Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 16, 1875. No. 24. THE HEAL D IS PUBLISHED FmERY WEDNESDAY MORNENGi it xewberrY9 S. C BY UKO~ F, GRENEKRt Editor and Proprietor. Terms, sez4o per tlnnum, Invariably in Advance. r,,-- The paper is stopped at the expirtiOul Of time for" whcit is paid. By- The >4 Mark denotes expirationl of sub scriptiou.U A LEGAL ATTACK -MENT. RT AN INI)ERGRADUATE OF THE LAW SCHOOL. -- n Believe me, Bess, when I declare A title deed's my heart, And you the party of the first, s And I the second part. S That I have an attachment true e( Is useless qnite to mention ; al In vain Iseek toserve you and f Arrest your sweet attention. yon know you owned some love for me O When I the question mooted;d But now it seems to me ycu acttJ As if you were nou-suited. P 3fy ease is one inequlity; g I've pleaded with precision; Oten V1 You know the points; why willYo th N So long reserve decision? V I make no dilatorY PlR 'm driven to distraction!It Unless I soon obtain relief Prm sure I shall take action. t At first a civil suit I'll bring s - At Cupid's special session; And there a plaintiff lover, ask hi For judgment by confession. ki Now don't demur when this you read, t But own you feel compunction, Si por I my suit will prosecute, In spite Of your iWunction. o And ff my jutigment in despite, N4 You will not hear me still, What sadder fate could any heart befall? Alas! dearchild,ne'er rohavekuown them all! '~ I de A GHOSTLY BRIDEGROOM. wi Vic he The celebrated Viscount Tur- ha )no, in his earlier youth, was a kan of pleasure in the innocent Co ,nse of that word; it was his con- c ant maxim that man was form- . I for two purposes, to be virtuous t. 2d to be happy. He did not con- ri ne the latter term within the no( mits of any philosophical the- rec y-he understood happiness as 1e world, and not as philoso- ho hers understood it. Being of a . a,y disposition, he gave it free; ,nt; and the levities of his youth ere as much tive subject of'con )rsation as the heroism of his aturer years has become the ieme of history. Like many others of that period, f far ie father of Turrene was per- fan iaded that his son would make s fortune at Paris, but with that t. nd of blindness, not uncommon h parents, he expected this de- w red event by means very little I abl ted to the character and finind I 1 the young Chevalier. Will it by leis credited, that Turrene was nt to the court of Louis XIV for fol e purpose of making his fortune bel r entering into the Sorbonne ? Accordingly, with ten Louis cbe Ors in his pocket, the young Wt arrene was conducted by his w ther to the town nearest his pa- o rnal chateau, whence the good pr d gentleman saw his son safely Tu to a provincial stage, and, with t any blessings, left him on his wie ad to Paris. Turrene, when a few miles on s road, got into conversation ith a fellow-passenger; and there q did ing in the vehicle but this gen- fric man and himself, they soon be- mr me as much acquainted as if m ren ey had passed the whole of their res together. Turrene, himself, as always noted for his candor he, id pleasantry, and the young hevalier, his fellow-passenger, emed much of the same charac- i r. There were no limits, there re, to their mutual confidence.to . har rrene entered into a narrative his expectations; and his comn nion, equally communicative, p formed Turrene of all the cir- G mstances of his situation. i Turrene learned by this detail iat the name of his companion as the Chevalier iDupaty; that a was the son of an old citizen of ad lois, and was going to Paris on b visit to a merchant, the old sh iend of his father, with the pur- h >e of marrying the old gentle an's daughter. Old Monsieurm upaty and the Parisian merchant pa ad, it seems, been educated to-be ather; and though so separated bybe te events of their future life, they me ad scarcely seen each other forth venty years, they had mutually th tained that affectionate remem-. r'ance not uncommon in like sit tions. The old merchant, whosea me is given as Monsieur St. qu eorge, had therefore sent an in- d tation to Monsieur Dupaty to .l deavor to unite their families; i rpressing in the same letter what an e would give with his daughter, t Dd what he should expect the 4 oung IDupaty would bring with * im. The letter concluded, that y7 Old Dupaty agreed to the propo-hi 1, the young Chevalier should e sent with a bag of five hundred s rowns, and the nuptials be forth- n rith concluded. t "Have you never seen your in- t anded, Chevalier ?" said Turrene. go "Never," replied the young iDa- up ac aty. "iNor the old gentleman ?" re- 50 >ined Turrene. "Never, my friend," re-added eq se Chevalier.hi "It will be a singular union, h en," said Turrene; "but perhxaps se aose things are not so much the hi rorse for being done blindfolded; fri )rtune may choose, perhaps, as roll as ourselves." o In this conversation between br be young friends, passed the rhole interval of the whole jour- pr *ey till their arrival at Paris. It u~ ras then agreed between the two lo' ompanions that they should stop th t the same inn. But scarcely had m hey reached thbis inn, and were left ed lone in their chamber, when a 'ery unexpected incident occurred. an ihe young Dupaty was seized ch ith a violent and dangerous corn- 1i laint. Whether arising from the T urney, or from any other cause, CO he disease wvas so severe and nstaantenouls in its effect, that an 'arrene had scarcely time to call we or aid before his companion had g) xpired. re There is help for everything at 3ut death. Turrene retired to his cl< ed, and revolved the incidents of Bf he day andhis journey. Hie was Pi then at an age when the spirit of el iiif Bpoedoprd i-Lv mianhid in annnaand in nredomi. fo te. Turrene rose in the morn. , and going to the trunk of th< .eased Chevalier, the keys o. iich Dupaty had given him pre >us to his unhappy catastrophe examimed the contents; and ing the letters and the ban ntaining the five hundred wns, sallies forth for the house Monsieur St. George, havine -en previous orders for the bu I of his friend. It may be herc essary to mention that, by the ulations of Paris, every one waE uired to be buried within twelve ars after their decease. )n coming to the house of Mon ur St. George, Turrene ordered i porter to announce his arrival his master. 'Who am I to announce, sir?" J the porter. 'The Chevalier Dupaty." Phe porter had not lived in the iily for nothing; he knew the iy secrets as well as Monsienr George himself. He eagerly, refore, hastened to announce at he knew to be most agree e intelligence. n the meantime, Turreue, left himself in a large parlor, had ure to look around him; he nd himself in one of those ises, or rather palaces, which ong to the higher order of mer mts. Everything bespoke the )th of its owner. His reverie s interrupted by the eDtrance the old gentleman, who, ap aching in haste, precipitated ie.If into the arms of Turrene. rrene returned his embraces ,h equal warmth. The o"I Ltleman was enraptured at the ire of his intended son-in-law. overwhelmed him with family stions, to all of which the can communication of his deceased nd had enabled him to return st satisfactory answers. Tur e delivered his letters. The gentleman read them. 'Yoa have brought then," said "the five hundred crowns ich your father has mentioned his letter ?" vurrene replied to his interroga y by putting the bag into the ids of the old gentleman. 'Good, my young friend," re A the worthy Monsieur St. rge, "Your father, I perceive, as much a man of business as self. You will soon learn that fortune, and what I shall give daughter, did not require the lition of five hundred crowns, SI was willing that your fathez >uld have some share in the piness of setting you going am a plain man, young gentle ,n; your father has done his it, and 1 shall now do mine." With these words, he rang a I; and, upon the entrance of a vant, commanded him to sum n a priest by a certain hour in isame evening. "In the mean e, you shall go and see my re and daughter. It is fit thai young man should become ac inted with his wife." urrene was accordingly con eted to the drawing room, anc roduced to a matronly womar I a young girl of great beauty wife and daughter of tb< rthy merchant; who, after th< -emony of introduction, left th< ung Chevalier to recommeni nself. [n this Turrene so effectually ceeded, that by the hour of din r, the ladies had become mor< n commonly satisfied witi air new acquaintance. Th< od matron looked with prid< on the elegan t figure and manl3 aomplishments of her intende< , and the young lady blushe< th more meaning, but wit] ual satisfaction. Turrene equally recommende< self during the dinner and des et. The merchant almost crosse< rself with surprise, how his o1< en, the citizen of Blois, wh L a proverb of niggardly econ ly, could have given his son s illiant an education. It was now becoming late ; th jest was expected. Turrene on a sudden, arose ; assumed k of solemnity, and beckonc< e merchant to follow him. Thi rchant, in some surprise, obey Turrene descended the stairs d entered the street. The mer ant inquired whither he wvas go . Turrene waved his band ie merchant, more astonished ntinued to follow him. It was the month of December d, therefore, though the hou: is 8 in the evening, it was fog -and dark as midnight. Tur ne, holding the merchant by th m, insensibly led him into th yisters of the Monastery of th ndictines, when, suddenly stol: ng, "My friend, said ge, "it i iog,Ihv dshre h oughc it a erisared meha e rha.h H. wa normitted me ti be absent, and must now returi Behold in me the spirit of th young Chevalier Dupaty. I ai rived in Paris at the Hotel d Pont Matre, at 6 o'clock yeste: terday evening, and died of th cholic about half an hour after m arrival. I need not tell you th my father had entrusted to m care a bag of 500 crowns. M senses survived my speecb, an made me anxious, that as th match could not be concluded fror the circumstance of my death the money might return safe int the hands of my father. I mus not declare further the secrets C the grave; suffice it that the las wish of my life was the first of m; death. The permission was grani ed me. The thing is done, an the montf safe. I must now r< turn to be buried. This very hou is the time appointed for me t enter the grave. Farewell." With these words, whilst th merchant was fixed in motionles astonishment, Turrene disappear ed, availing himself of the darknes of the night, and an obscure tur: in the cloisters. After some moments of mut surprise, the merchant, rubbinj his eyes, looked about him. Tui rene, as we have said, had disap peared. The merchant called; n one answered. In a word, th merchant became horror-struck and recovered himself only to hur ry home and relate the terribl adventure to his wife and daugh ter. Terror has quick steps; he sooi regained his own door, and knoch ed for entrance with unusual vic lence. Before the door was opened, cart with trunks came up to i1 The merchant demanded whenc it came? "From the Hotel de Pont Ms tre." "From whom there ?" demand ed the merchant, eagerly. "They are the trunks of th young Chevalier Dupaty," replie the carter. "And where is the young Chev lier Dupaty ?" rejoined the mei chant. "In his grave by this time," r< plied the carter. "The bell of N< tre D.ieu was announcing the bi rial as 1 left the inn." "What, the Chevalier is reall dead then ?" said the merchan his hair erecting itself with ii creased horror. "Yes," replied the carter, "dea as Adam. He arrived in this cit yesterday afternoon, and die within half an hour afterwards, The merchant's door now opez ed; -he stayed not to ask anothe question, but rushed up to relat to his wife the circumstances < the apparition. The story got about Paris, an and as Turrene was silent, it we almost generally believed that th young Chevalier Dupaty had ai peared to the merchant St. Georg as has been related. THE MYsTERIES OF THE FEMAL TOILETTE.-The "latest novelty in woman's attire does not soun comfortable. She has, it seem adopted a garment in which it almost impossible to walk or s down, or to enter a carriage, an which can only be worn by thros ing the body into the most pos erful contortions according to ti instructions specially given by ti dressmakers w h o man ufactua it. The Paris correspondent the Queen gives the followir account of this new article dress: "Demi-trains," says ti correspondent, "are inconveniel for the street, and even for gettir into a carriage, and they go tied back and banded with elast that walking, and, above all, si ting down are not the easy, car less movements of yore. Son -dressmakers give instructions: to the management of the derr trains. The best manner of gat ering up the train is to turn to tl right, bending slightly back ward ~'and to take hold of the *dress: low down as possible. When y< straighten and stand upright aga the skirt will be slightly lifte and thus become no longer than short costume. When you wish' let the skirt trail again you mu throw it back with a sweep of ti right hand. This will be found much more graceful way of pr serving the train from conta' with the streets than by lifting on each side with both hands. Man dressed in a coat or pair trousers involving so much troub and agony would hardly -feel t to performing those duties whli woman kindly proposes to tal on her own hands. -She is, hoi ever, very strong minded, and d lights in a life of active. occup ) in "_Pan Man azett About two o'clock in the after noon the clouds rolled away like a scroll; in a very short time they had dissappeared, and the Cascade Range lay before us in all its greatness. The view was too grand and extensive to be taken in at once, or in the short time we had to observe. The entire scene, with few exceptions, was covered with forests, with here and there barren rocky peaks that rose up out of the ridges ; now and then a mountain lake, much more blue than the sky, and the Nesqually, winding like a thread of silver through the dark forests. From the foot of the glacier for several miles the bed of the river was very white, from the granite bowldors that covered the bed of the stream. The water, too, was of a decidedly chalkier color near its source.-Gen. A. V. Krautz, in Overland Monthly for May. THE PRISONER OF SINTE PELAGIE. The following pathetic little story, from the French of M. Al hoy-Lurine, derives its interest from the fact that it concerns an American Revolutionary patriot and friend of Washington. The acts of benevolence of the fine old soldier are touching for their sim plicity and modesty, and sad in deed is the story of his melan choly end: On the second story of the buildings which were reserved for the debtors, a modestly-.furnished cell was the abode of an American Colonel named Swan, who, after a long litigation with a Frenchman, had suffered imprisonment for debt in preference to paying a sum which his conscience told him he did not owe. French law then permitted the provisional arrest- of a foreign debtor, and twenty ye. safter the arrest he was still a prisoner in Sainte Pelagie. Colonel Swan, a compatriot and friend of Washington, had served in the war of American independ ence with Lafayette, and the old French Republican was often seen to bow his white head under the gate of the jail which held his brother in arms. His personal fortune, the assist ance of rich friends, and perhaps bribery, or a successful escape could have restored the American to liberty; but he was so accus tomed to his punishment that one could r ea d ily see that these thoughts could not occur to him. No one could see without emo tion this fine old man, whose Ifea tures seemed to be a fac-simile of those of Benjamin Franklin, walk ing up and down the narrow pas sages of the prison,-seeking a little fresh air from the loop-holes which looked out on the Jardin des Plantes. His long dressing-gown of flannel or white dimity an nounced his approach, and it was then a curious and touching sight to see the groups of prisoners sep arate to let him pass. Some of them cleared away at his approach the corridor, which was often en cumbered with furniture, and others took away the humble stoves on which they cooked their food, for fear that the odor of the charcoal might be disagreeable to him. This universal love Colonel Swan fully deserved. This vete ran of the prison had marked every day of his imprisonment by good deeds performed most mysterious ly. No miserable prisoner had knocked at his door in vain, and often coming there to seek bread had found liberty. These deeds were often renew ed. A poor young girl coming to pay her old imprisoned father a birthday visit had received a let ter at the grating, which the keeper directed her to give to the prisoner at the same time she gave him the bouquet which she carried. The old man unfolded the pa per and read these words: "I acknowledge to have received from M- (the name of the prison er) the sum of five hundred and forty francs, being the principal, interest and expenses of the sum for which he is imprisoned in Sainte Pelagie. I also give, by these presents, the authority to M. Papin (the jailer) to discharge the said prisoner as soon as possi ble." The note was signed by the creditor of the old man. It is useless to say that Colonel Swan had mysteriously taken the place of the debtor in sending the money to the creditor. One single creditor kept the Colonel prisoner, and every year -this creditor, -hoping to bond the firm will oftli old ma1n called him to the grating and offered him acoamnromie. The prison superintendent and officials urged him to accept these propositions, which would restore him to his country and family. He smiled sadly, and turning to the turnkey said to him: "Let us go, my friend-lead me to my room." He sainted the creditor saying, "Au revoir, Mnsieur-; next year." About the year 1820 the*habitues of the Jardin des Plantes could see from the labyrinth of walks an old man promenading every day on the gallery which over looks the prison of-Sainte Pelagie. This old man was Colonel Swan. The surgeons required that this Father of the prison should be per mitted to breathe purer air than he atmosphere he had breathed 3o long. The Colonel availed himself gratefully of this privilege, but, is if he had been warned by some 5ecret presentiment, he told the loctors that the brisk air of liber ty would kill his body, accustomed o the heavy atmosphere of the prison. Some months afterwards the .annons of the 27th of fuly thun lered. On the 28th the gates of Ibis commercial bastile were open 3d. All the prisoners went out. Dolonel Swan became free, and he last hour of his captivity was xbout to strike. After the popular triumph he went to press to his heart his old friend Lafayette, and on the steps )f the Hotel de Ville was realized Lhe prediction the prisoner of ainte Pelagie had made of him 3elf: "The brisk air of liberty will kill my body, so long aceustomed o the heavy atmosphere of the prison," and on the next day the ld soldier ofSainte Pelagie closed his eyes upon that soil which had o long been unhospitable to him. THE CURSE oF THE COUNTRY NEw YORK GoLD-RooM.-But do he friends of the drifting policy onsider the evils which their plan inflicts upon 'the country ? Look at this single fact: As matters are at present constituted, a whole nation, numbering 39,000,000, is left at the mercy of 500 gold-gam bers in New York City ! It is in alculable the loss to which the country is subjected when these gentlemen, for their amusement or profit, put up the price of gold even one per cent. Every well ordered government on the face of the earth punishes gambling as a misdemeanor, if not a crime; and so the common nimble.fingered gentry who follow this calling, in all our towns and cities, are pe riodically visited with the extreme penalty of the laws. Yet our pa. ternal Government suffers the whole business of the country to be put in daily jeopardy by the tricks of the gamblers in Wall Street, and has ceased the effort to provide any remedy against their disreputable s tr a tag e ms. Nor will any remedy prove efficacious short of making greenbacks equal in value to gold. That will put an end to one of the most mischievous and hurtful occupations that is pro secuted in our land. Another evil that is quite as serious is the op. portunity which is afforded to the capitalists of the country unduly to increase their hoards of wealth. The United States is a paradise, not only for gamblers-if so be thy make their head-quarters it Wall Street, and speculate in those values which touch most vitally the business of the country-but for bankers as well. It is a well known fact that the national banking institutions are annually dividing enormous profits among stock-holders, and this, too, while other interests are staggering un der loads that may almost be said to be unprecedented. If ever in the history of the world laws were framed expressly, as it would seem, to make the rich richer and the poor poorer, we find an illustration of this policy in the present laws touching financial interests in this year of grace 1875, and in this boasted country of ours.-From "Row Many do Two and Two Make ?" in Overland Monthly for June. It is not so difficult a task to plant new truths as to root out old errors, for there is this paradox in men-they run after that which is new, but are prejudiced in fa vor of that which is old. The limitation permitting the abductors of Charley Ross to re turn him and escape the penalty of the law expired last week, but they have yet made no sign. A man may be great by chance, but never wise nor good without taknur nain isetUlantons. e ASCENT OF MOUNT RAINIER. e On the morning of the sixth day we set out again up the gla. cier. A drizzling rain prevailed through the night, and continued this morning. We had a little trouble in getting upon the glacier, e as it terminated everywhere in steep faces that were very difficult to climb. Once up, we did not meet with any obstructions, or inter ruptions for several hours, al though the slippery surface of the t glacier, which formed inclined planes of about twenty degrees, made it very fatiguing with our packs. About noon the weather thickened; snow, sleet, and rain r prevailed, and strong winds, blow ing hither and thither, almost blinded us. The surface of the glacier, becoming steeper, began to be intersected by immense ore vasses crossing our path, often compelling us to travel several hundred yards to gain a few feet. We finally resolved to find a camp. But getting off the glacier was no easy task. We found that the face of the lateral moraine was al most perpendicular, and composed of loose stones, sand, and gravel, furnishing a very uncertain foot hold, besides being about fifty feet high. Wah-pow-e-ty and I finally succeeded in getting up, and with the aid of the rope we assisted our companionsto do the same. When we reached the top we were a lit tle surprised to find that we had to go down-hill again to reach the mountain side. Here a few stunt ed pines furnished us fuel and shelter, and we rested for the re mainder of the day. I explored a little in the evening by ascend ing the ridge from the glacier, and discovered that it would be much the best route to pursue in ascending to the summit. e When night set in, the solitude of our camp was very oppressive. We were near the limit of perpet ual snow. The water for our tea we obtained from the melting of the ice near by. The atmosphere was very different from what it was below, and singularly clear Swhen not obstructed by fog, rain, or snow. There were no familiar objectsato enable one to estimate dis I tance. When I caught a glimpse 6 of the top.of Rainier through the ' the clouds, I felt certain that we could reach it in three hours. The d only living things to be seen were y some animals, with regard to d which we still labor under an er "ror. These little creatures would t-make their appearance on the side r o,f the mountain in sight of our o camp, and feed upon herbage that f grew on the soil where the snow left it bare. The moment anyone j stirred from camnp,a sound between s~ a whistle and a scream would e break unexpectedly and from some . unknown quarter, and immediate ,ly all the animals that were in sight would vanish in the earth. Upon visiting the spot where they disappeared, we would find a bur row which was evidently the crea d tures' home. Everywhere round the entrance we found great num bers of tracks, such as a lamb or tkid would make. The animals d that we saw were about the size of kids, and graz'ed and moved about so much like them, that, ta ken in connection with the tracks e we saw, we jumped at once to the -conclusion that they were moun tain sheep, of which weall had Sheard a great deal, but none of our party had ever seen any. My e report of .these animals, which t uas published in the Washington gRepublican on our return, was se Sverely ridiculed by some of the ic naturalists who were hunting for t-undescribed insects and animals in that country at the time. We are estill at a loss to understand the habits of the creatures, and to re .concile the split hoofs which the tracks indicated with their bur row in the earth. On the following morning-the seventh dayfrom our camp on the 3a Mishawl-the sky showed signs of n clear weather, and we began the ascent '>f the main peak. Until aabout noon we were enveloped in oclouds, and only occasionally did we get a glimpse of the peak. eSoon after midday we reached a sndden ly a colder atmosphere, and found ourselves all at once above the clouds, which were spread out tsmooth and even as a sea, above _which appeared the snowy peaks of St. Helens, Mount Adams, and e Mount Hood, looking like pyra midal icebergs above an'-ocean. At first we could not see down e through the clouds into the valleys. SAbove, the atmosphere was singil larly clear, and the reflection of - the sunapc the snow very. pow-. - erful.. summnit of Ramier seemed very at hand. HIS HONOR AND BIJAH. AN HOUR AT THE CENTRAL STATION COURT. "That's it-that's the way!" said Bijah as he got the broom and brushed the dust off his Honor's back. "I've been run over by these old wilk-carti time and time again, and I'm now watching for a woman with a wart on her nose who owns four carts and has run over twenty-eigbt innocent per sons. Did I ever tell you how I was run over by a milk cart in the Sandwich Islands ?" "No, sir, and I hope you never shall," replied his Honor. Bijah wore an injured look as he put up the broom, and his Hon.. or continued: "I don't suppose you were ever within a thousand miles of the I Sandwich Islands," "Bet you even-two to one forty to nothing-I was right thar I" replied Bijah. "Where are they?" "Where-where are they?" "Yes." "Why, in in-well, that's queer; less s.e-e. Why, the Sandwich Islands are in Lake Ontario, of course." "Please step back," replied his 9 Honor quietly, and Bijah leaned up against the corridor door and mused: "They may be in Lake Erie, or Lake Michigan; but I know I've been thar and I'll die afore I'll lie about it." ALLEY-GORICAL. . "And this is William Spinner, eh I" inquired his Honor of a brick haired young man whose back was covered with mud. "Yes, sir." "They found you in an alley; it was night; you were drunk; when they hauled you out you was as ugly and pompous as the King of the Cannibal Islands. Isn't this true.?" "It was my birthday and I sup pose I took a glass too much," re plied the prisoner. "It's the last time however; you will never see me again." "Let's see-havn't you an old mother to support ?" "Yes-yes, sir. She's a good old lady, and she'll feel very bad ly about this." "And you have to support two or three young sisters ?" "Yes, sir, three of them-poor little girls." His honor removed his specta cles, wiped the apple on his coat sleeve, smiled blandly and remark ed: "What an awful liar! Why, man, I know all about you! You are one of the greatest loafers in Detroit, and I do not believe you have a relation on earth." The prisoner cast his eyes down and could make no reply. "I'll mark you down for sixty days," continued the court; "that's thirty days in which to get washed up and thirty more to get acquaint ed with yourself." "THAT MAN." "Mawning Jedge," said a portly colored woman as she rolled out of the corridor; "how is all de folks dis mawning ?" "Don't try to play that on me !" he replied after a sharp look. "Why, don't ye know me, y'edge -don't ye 'member Mrs. Par ker ?" "No, ma'am." "1 dun help ye clean house two year ago !" she continued, 'a earing an amazed look. "That may be, madam, you may be one of the women who tore up my house and compelled me to eat bologna and crackers and sleep around on window-sills for three long weeks, but that can have no possible bearing on this case. The* charge, Mrs. Parker, is that you were drunk, and had a fight with your husband, and knocked him into the middle of next week with a club." "Dat ar' man-woosh! He's bound an determined to be de ruinashun ob me. Why, Jedge, ye know I wouldn't git toxicated !" His Honor motioned to the offi cer, and the officer said that the woman was ugly drunk and a hard case. "Sakes alive ! but here, dat man tell lize !" she exclaimed. "Why, I hadn't even taken a sip of vine gar de hull day long!l It's dat man, Jedge-dat lazy, good fur nuffin' Parker. If ye only knew him, Jedge, if ye only knew what I hey to put up with from dat black deamon !" "Do you not jive happily with him ?" "I live happily, but he don't. Some days. when I'ze. a singing around like a canary bird he 'cums I homeand de fattie'he does is ol ADVERTISINC RATES4, Advertisements insertedat the rats 041 .00 per square-one inch-forfirst inwdron, ardi 75C. 1br each subsequent insertion. Double cOlun advertisements ten per cent on abOTGI Notices of meetings, obituaries andtImtre - of respect, same rates per square asordinary' advertisements. Special. notices in local coluni 20 cents'-. per line. Advertisemeubs no njake,dth ahe numl ber of insertions will be,-Iept -AMth forbid and charged acc6rdingy. Special contracts nmde ia bwq adver-. tisers, withIIeaddtoz.uauerts Done with Neatness and.DjSpgft Terms CasL bo kick de table over an jtF )n de dishes! I jist -wish y.M < iim to lib wid for abont fdi~h- M - ites" Well, there isn't the-leaim-ul4 Ihat yon were drunk. You h.ae 5 )een there before, anbd I bal:ftul ron up for thirty,dy.' . - "Oaf!I bat yoq-*otdr&4j~d weart to do i? "I must-take herawy "Can I spoke to ye,"Jed ' "Next week-call t- -eOjt4j 9 "Let me spoke one W-* "Sit her down on'the-ewbm -next case 1" RAPPINGs TAPPING ON 4k.bOW "I shall dell. udddin tARi ;A& ;olemn drath," said the ner as he steLpdot OT2 ",Well, thats a go6dar Z - olied His HEonor.. "'The-. 'h ,M tere is disturbing the pa~' 4(1 gave noddaugs a 'dV harge-I. want-w to14o iow it VhAs."Ir "Go, ahead I" er door- loqjed,-. l~s .aick asT drunk 0 prIvii Poing right to pe&1?7 :"' "UYes." n~y Lazily from his mouth. "I didn't'> ~et any money ~ 1 took two pup. pies at twelve dollars and a half ~piece." - It often happens that those are - - bhe best people whose characters have been' most injured by slander.