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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XIII. WEDNESDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 7, 187. No. 6. T HE H ER AL D IS PIIBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING, At Newberry, S. C. BY THO,. B. GPRKNHKRR, Editor and Proprietor. Terms, $2.50 per .Innum, Invariably in Advance. t7" The paper is stopped at the expiration of time for which it is paid. Zl7 tie mark denotes expiration of sub sciton. "OUR OWN.,' If I had known in the morning How wearily all the day The words uokind Would trouble my mind I said when you went away, " I had been more careful, darling, Nor given you needless pain; But we vex "our own" With look and tone We might never take back again. For- though in the quiet evening You may give me the kiss of peace, Yet it might be That never for mE e The pain of the heart should cease, How many go forth in the morning That never come home at night, And hearts have broken For harsh words spoken, That sorrow can ne'er set right. Wehayeacarefal thoughts for the stranger, And smiles for the sometime guest, But oft for "our own"? The bitter tone, Th*igh :we -love "our own" the best. 1 Aha!~ lips with the curve impatient, AbM brow with that look of scorn, 'Twere a cruel fate, Were the night toco late4 To un thnwrkr of morn. mendous' thunder peal rolled along the mountain sides. Its echo hac not died away in the far off valet until the rain began to pour fron the garnered fullness ci the clouds We waited for it to stop until We were all sleepy, when the girls said we could go to bed in the lit tle room at the head of the stair which led out of the kitchen, a their father did not get up early we could be at home before the old folks were astir. So after bid ding the girls a sweet good night, and hugging them a little, and wishing them pleasant dreams, and promising them to come on the next Sunday night, we started to bed. "We didn't have far to go, as the bed stood near the head of the stairs. John was soon in bed, but [ was always a little slow and full :f curiosity, I was looking around the little room. "At last I thought I would sit lown on a chest, which was spread >ver with a nice white cloth, while L drew off my boots. So down I ;at, when, stars of the east ! I went plump into a custard pie ! "I thought John would die aughing, for he said I smashed hat custard all to thunder and ?late right in too. You eee we 3ad to be awful quiet, so the old nan would not hear. "I was now ready to get into >ed, so I put the light out and icked up my boots thinking to )ut them in a more convenient )lace, when down one of my legs vent through a pipe hole which iad been covered by paper, up to ny hip. "Now one part of me was up itairs while the longest part of me was in the kitchen. As my leg vas very long, it reached a shelf vhich was occupied by dishes, >ans, coffee pots, etc., and turning t over with a tremendous crash. "The girls had not retired, and ye could hear them laugh fit to split their sides. I felt awful bshamed, and was scared until my leart was in my throat, for I ex >eced the old man every moment. "I extricated my leg from the ionfounded hole just in time, for he old lady looked into the kitch m from the roomn door and asked hat all that noise wvas about. [he girls put her off as best they ould and '1 went to bed, while robn was strangling himself under .he cover to keep from laughing "We soon went off into the land f dreams with the hope of waking ~arly. I wish I could tell you my reams, but it would be too long. )ne moment 1 would fancy myself y the side of my Sadie, sipping ectar from her heaven-bedewed ips, and the next I would be fly. ng from the old man, while he woud be flourishing his cane above ny head. This came to an end y John giving me a. kick. "On waking up and looking round, I saw John's eyes as big s niy fist, while the sun was beam ng in at the window. "What to do we couldn't tell, r we heard the old man having Family prayer in the kitchen. "John looked out of the window~ end said we could get down over the porch. "Get out and dress as soon as possible, said he. "So in my hurry my foot got astened in the bed clothes, and :ut I tumbled, head foremost, turn 9 ed o'ver, and down the steps until ? struck the door, which was fast ened by a wooden button, and it gave way, out I rolled in front of the old man. He threw up hiu bands and cried, "'Lord save us!' for he thought it was the devil. "The old lady screamed until you could have heard her a mile was so scared and bewildered tha'{ could not get up at once [t was, warm weather and I didn't ave og anything but a-well, oni garment.> "When i heard the girls snick. ring it mnaA'e 'ne mad, and I jump ed up and rished out of the door leaving .the greater part of my nly garment on the old doo1 latch. "Off I starte I for the barn, ant w.he al wathrough the yarc the dogs set up a bowl and went I for me. 3 "When I got into the barn yard i I had to run through a flock of .sheep, and among them was an old ram who backed off a little and 3 started for me. With one bound I escaped his blow, sprang into the barn, and began to climb up the logs into the mow, when an old mother hen pounced upon my legs, picking them until they bled. -1 "I threw myself upon the hay, and after John had slid down the porch into a hogshead of rain wa ter, he came to me with one of my boots, my coat, and one of the legs iofmy pants. He found me com pletely prostrated. Part of my shirt, my hat, one leg of my pants, my vest, stockings, necktie and one boot, were left behind. "I vowed then and there that I would never go to see another girl, and I'll die before I will." Klisull!autcus. FOR THE HERALD. BROADBRIYI'S NEW YORK - LETTER. NUMBER ONE. In the letters which I propose to send you, it is my intention in each one, aside from the general news and gossip of the city, to give a sketch of some prominent building or public place, w hich I trust will be of interest to your readers ; and if any of them should befortun ate or unfortunate enough to visit this great moral Lazeretto, these letters may serve as a sort of guide; and if not always tell ing people where to go, I hope to be able to tell them what places to avoid. It seems especially appropriate that I should begin my journey from the Gold-room. I elct this place for a start, for the reason that those who know me best will acquit me at once of any interest ed motive. The Gold-room ! there is magic in the very name. Thbe sound of it is associated with all the glories of the earth, the sight of it realizes more than the visions of Alladin, and the jingle of it surpasses the sweetest music that ever lured the luckless ma riner to the rocks and the quick sands, when chanted by the syrens of the sea. Thbe millions whbo have heard of the Gold-room, and whbo have watched with anxious hearts the rise and the fall of the shining metal. very naturally suppose that the Gold-room is a sort of glitter ing ternpie where Midas sits en throned in his glory, and the glit tering sheen of his gilded vest ments throws a pale yellow light over the eager multitude that crowd around to offer sacrifice at his shining altar. Alas for the romance of speculation, nothing more unpoetical can be imagined than the inside of the Gold-room. The interior is begrimed and din gy, and the style of the floor bears a close resemblance to the arrange. ment of a second class dog-pit. The Gold-room fronts on New street, a few doors from Wall, and adjoins the Stock Exchange. It occupies the first and second stories above the basement of rather an insig nificant-looking building running from 12 to 16 New street; but however unprepossessing the ex terior, the interior is infinitely more disappointing. The room itself has a miserable, unswept, unwashed kind of appearance that leads one to think that the busi ness of gold-buying is not only disreputable but, diuty. If you wish to get a good look at the goldgamblers. step up with me into the filthy little gallery that occupies the south end of thbe build ing,-look out where you sit do~ or you may stick fast. You see they have sheathed the top of the railing with sheet iron or zinc to keep it from the jack-knives of the vandals who sit here daily and watch t,he rise and the fall of gold. There may possibly be some - where an aristocracy of gold-buy ers; if so, they are seldom seen upon Change. The floor is cut up into a series of rings, each one, toward the center being a short step below the other ; the center Ii s ccupie by airepntable.lnnor ing fountain. In the middle, the i water-jet is a consumptive-looking a little figure, standing on lily leaves f that were gilded once, but the i tinsel has all worn off and they i look just exactly what they are counterfeit. The great body of t brokers wh occupy the floor have b a hard, leathery, care-worn ap- d pearance, like men whose minds a are ill at ease, and whose con- t sciences (if they have ary) are a exceedingly troublesome. Many of them wear their hats cocked on a one side, sport fancy neck-ties and I very loud vests, and meeting them t away from their place of business, c you would be favorably impressed p with their knowledge of faro, c draw-poker and seven-up. Gold r at 105 . one can scarcely realize I the state of affairs in this old room d when it went up suddenly to 200. c Sitting here in this wretched little A gallery, I close my eyes, and in an p instant I am transported back to is that memorable Friday, nearly A four years ago, the name of which t shall be Black in the calendar for- a ever. The morning broke dark n and lowering, as if portending the if coming storm. All day long the I tide had been lashed into irresist- d ible fury, like the waves of an an- n gry sea. Wild crowds of financial I wreckers and buccaneers were N anxiously waiting the stranding tl of the mighty ship freighted with c. a nation's credit. She was already t among the rocks and the quick- I sands, and false lights gleamed b from every headland and rock s along the shore ; ruin, ruin, ruin n was everywhere ; death was rid- o ing abroad upon the. blast, but b just at the moment when hope r seemed lost, a crash of thunder t was heard, the lightning bad s struck, but not the ship ; it had d fallen among the robbers who 0 were endeavoring to destroy her, G and that one flash had lighted the a heavens long enough to show the a ship the pathway to safety. The a great body of wretched gamblers ti struck down on that black day 0 never appeared on Change again ti except as beggars or borrowers; v most of them got their deserts. d Fisk fell by the hand of an assas sin. Charley J.,--"Handsome b Chanley," as we used to call him, Ii blew out his brains in Paris. Fat V Tom Marston, whose dinners at -( Delmonico's were like the feasts s< of Heleogabulus, died a pauper at :0 Bellevue, and was buried in an e' unmarked grave on Blackwell's s< Island. Ned Marcy, who for years a was a marked man in Harlem si Lane and the Park, whose spank I ing bays would only take dust t from the old Commodore or Bon- a ner, and whose gorgeous diamond ri pin and ring were as wellknown as o John Morrissey's club-house, died g in extreme poverty in a wretched b lodging in London-deserted by r all who had known him in his a prosperous days. Of the desperate crowd whose a nameR that day has made infa- t mous, one man yet remains a fi nancial power in the land. Yet 3 in the length and breadth of this fi great Union, I cannot conceive a e life more scathed, lonely and b bloomless. When Jim Fisk fell, I li saw strong men and tender wo- y men weep tears of as bitter grief a as ever fell from mortal eyes. I fi have seen others cling with un- r faltering affection for years to I Stkes, the man who slew him. c When Rubenstein, the murderer b of Sarah Alexander, became so fi filty and loathsome that keepers a and strangers shrank from him as e if he were a leper, there were a I mother, wife and children who e still regarded him with almost s unutterable love. But Jay Gould y seems to have ne friends nor to want any-no one speaks kindly of him-no good that he has done has ever come to light-charity passes by his threshold and love , seems to find no place within his soul. He goes on piling up stocks t and gold-gold and stocks-to be.a spent by Heaven only knows who. His name is familiar on Change as that of the boat-man who died a week ago worth nearly a hun t dred millions. Yet among the thousands brought in contact with him in the busmness of daily life, you never hear for him one word of love, or kindness, or re ect.i Perha his punishment I 5 yet to come. It is said he fears assassination-like that which be el his dead partner. Let him fall a that or any other way, there vill be few rnourners at his grave. Astor, Stewart and Vanderbilt, he representatives of nearly two Lundred and eighty millions of ollars, have passed away within few months, and yet the mighty ide of life rolls down Broadway s though they had never been. The theaters have been having hard time of it ever since the rooklyn disaster. Lotta,r one of be most successful stars in the ountry, has been playing a new iece at the New Park to only a orporal's guard. Lawrence Bar ett is at Booth's with "Daniel )ruce"-business from fair to mid ling. Edwin Booth is at the Ly eum, under the management of lcVicker, his father-in-law; it is ossible to get several people more ito the boxes every night. Miss [ulton, the latest production at he Union Square, though not an bsolute failure, is far from a pro ounced success. "The American" still running at Daly's Fifth Lvenue, and is shortly to be with rawn to make room for fresh ovelties. "The Shaughraun"and oucicault have departed from. Pallack's ; Wallack himself is now h~e attraction, and of course the reme de la creme has all turned out greet the old-time favorite. usiness of all kinds is still terri ly depressed; crowds of beggars warm from house to house. The iost untiring efforts on the part f our charitable institutions have een unable to cope with this te1 ible poverty that surrounds us in is evil and disastrous time. It ,ems frightful that people should is of starvation in the midst of ur populous cities; but they do. rod help them through this bitter nd trying season. Our churches re crowded, and seatsrent almost s high as ever. I understand bat Dr. Deems is terribly down n Beecher because he thought lat Bliss, the ''Sweet Singer," ho perished in the Ashtabula isaster, had done more good with Hold the Fort" than Vanderbilt ad done with his hundred mil ons. Certain it is that there rere few who wept for the dead ommnodore except John Morris y and Dr. Deems, whbile hundreds f thousands who had never look d upon his face shed bitter and ~alding tears of genuine love and fection for the sweet and gentle nger of Zion. Deems says that ~eecher was wrong if he supposes bat Vanderbilt never sang hymns; nd next week I suppose he'll be ady to make affidavit that the ld man never sat down to a little ame of draw without a hymn ook in his pocket. Dr. Deems is ight; the Commodore built him magnificent church and left him 20,000 in cash. If he had done s much for me, I'd scalp the man bat said one word against him. The heavy snow-storm on New ear's Day has left our streets led with snow and ice. Broad ~ay was never in such a mnisera le condition in the memory of ving men. When a thaw comes on will need fins or a boat to get cross the street. The rivers are led with floating ice. The other aorning, I was two hours crossing ulton Ferry, which I usually ross in five minutes. Ouir big ridge is rapidly progressing; the ot bridge is partially laid. We ,re now anxiously waiting the ount of the Presidential vote, and oping that whoever is legally lected may be inaugurated, with upport of a united and happy seople. I am, truly yours, BROADBRIM. "Does this razor take hold ell ?" asked the smiling barber. Yes," replied the unhappy vie im, "it takes hold well, but it on't lot go worth a cent." A lady says there are more su erfiuous men than women, and e rest of her sex would iike to :now where they are. We are told of grass in Colorado hat is so short you must lather it PERSONAL TRAITS AND PE- a1 CULIARITIES OF COMMO- lc DORE VANDERBILT. P Commodore Vanderbilt was gen- -' erally described as a most kingly w looking man of about six feet one, with a fine, large, bald head, fair complexion and ruddy cheeks, aquiline, powerful nose and lively, dark eyes of keen expression. His hair was beautifully white, and even now the bankers in Wall F street say, "He is the finest look ing man I ever saw." He was as b straight as sn arrow and carried uh himself in an imposing manner. P He generally wore black, with m a white silk necktie, and in b Winter a peculiar heavy fur-trim- M iaed overcoat, by which he was generally known about Wall street. Of late years he gave himself up almost exclusively to home life and did not take an active part in g the management of the great busi- hi ness which he controlled. His w son William H. was well acquaint- w ed with his father's wishes, and d under his direction the vast busi ness was carried on. Occasionally 0 great questions arose, and they d4 were submitted to Mr. Vanderbilt. h' He decided them quickly, and, Sl once decided, he dismissed them h from his mind. He generally arose hi at about eight o'clock, and after a ei leisurely toilet breakfasted with li: his wife. His breakfast was very n' light-it hardly deserved the name (l of breakfast. He prolonged his t? stay at the table' that he might sl glance over the morning papers. e: From breakfast he proceeded to ft his private office on Fourth street, b where be got the important con tents of the morning's mail, and s< received his friends and business ti acquaintances. His office was al- n ways thronged. At 11 o'clock he m would leave his office and pay a aE visit of inspection to his horses in ". the adjacent stables. He was very W fond of his horses, and nothing " but an extraordinary press of busi- g ness would persuade him to give it up his morning visit. It was the greatest courtesy he could extend fc to a friend to invite him to join P him in the inspection of the stable. w After having visited the stable, ol the Commodore returned to the et house to dress for dinner and to fla chat with his wife and his grand- at children, or perhaps to receive ca such persons as arrived too late ar for the office hours. -Dinner was h served at one o'clock, and it was m generally a good dinner. The ti< Commodore ate sparingly, and se rarely took wine, but insisted that tc the little he did eat should be good is and well prepared. After dinner, A driving was in order. Supper g: was served at six o'clock, and it st: was a rare thing for Mr. Vander- ta bilt to leave the house in the even- w ing. He seldom visited the thea- C< tre or other places of amusement. th He retired early, scarcely ever re- pi maining up later than ten o'clock. A Always when at home Mr. Van- a derbilt was besieged by visitors. Xi He used to say that he was never C alone except in his afternoon drive. B Hundreds of people called upon ai him every day, on every conceiv- M1 able business. He wa.s sometimes T inwardly impatient at the unceas- os ing train of callers, but he never gi refused to see anybody who might ti call. Persons calling on business p< were counseled, however, to speak ti quickly and be off. The Commo- d< dore never allowed himself to be RE talked to after he had heard ti enough. A lady who knew him he intimately tells thbe following story d< of him: It was at the beginning it of the panic of 1873 that a report- ti er of a city journal waited upon b< the Commodore to get his views bl of the situation. The inexperi enced journalist plunged in medias a res as soon as he.was shown into p the Commodore's presence. "Good morning, Commodore," tr said he, "What do you think of a the panic ?" ~u "I don't think about it at all." g, "What do you intend to do og about it, then ?" o "I don't intend to do anything." y, "Well, haven't you got any- o' thing to say. about it ?" a "No, sir, not a word." R The poor reporter was on his be beam ends. He was just leaving n< the room in despair when the n< ommodoe turned full upon him hi ad said: "Look-a-here, sonny, < t me give you a little advice. I ay ready money for everything >u buy, and never sell anything hich you do not own. Good orning, sonny." The Commodore was an invet -ate smoker, and during his last ness, when remonstrated with r continually smoking, said : t When I have to give up smoking i yu may give me up." Ae a business man he was bold, it none the less prudent. He 3ed to say that no man could t 'event him keeping an engage- 1 ent when once it was made. If1 3 had bound himself to pay a illion of dollars on the first of 1 ay, he would at once provide r fulfilling his. engagement is ch a manner that no failure on a e part of others, on any contin )ncy whatever, could ~prevent m doing it. In other words, he ould have the money where he t ould be sure to find it on that t Ly. He was never fond of talking. 6 nee he was at a dinner in Lon- t >n, and his health being given, 3 was urged to respond in a >eech. All that was got out of m was the following. Rising, 3 said: "Gentlemen, I have nev made a fool of myself in my Ee, and I'm not going to begin >w. Here's a friend of mine >inting to his lawyer) who can 6lk all day. He will do my )eaking." Still he knew how to cpress 'himself with clearness, ree and brevity, and some of his isiness letters were models of at kind of composition. He al possessed the more difficult art, iat of not saying what he did )t wish to say. He had few axims of life. When ho was ked for one he would reply : I Do your business well." And he as sometimes fond of adding Don't tell anybody what you are ying to do until you have done Commodore Vanderbilt was as nd of cards as was Talleyrand. rior to his second marriage he as a member of three social abs, in which whist was regard ias the-great social duty. He -st joined the old Racket Club, td when it was broken up he be ,me a member of the City Club, id finally united with the Man ,ttan Club. After his second arriage he became more domes > in his habits and was seldom en at his club. But the Sara ga five-point euchre parties flour- ~ bed all the same in July and ugust of each year. The Sarato Sparty was very exclusive. A ranger was seldom, if ever ken into the game or allowed to itch its progress. Beside the >mmodore there was usually at e euchre table, Chester W. Cha n, President of the Boston and Ibany Railroad ; Joseph Harper, New York Central Director; ; 'illiam Turnbull, of New York ; :mmodore C. K. Garrison ; A. oody, formerly of the Baltimore id Ohio, W. H. Vanderbilt, and r. Peabody, of Philadelphia. be ante was always a dollar, and wing to th e peculiarities of the sme, it frequently happened that ere was from $60 to $80 in the >ol, a march being the only play it would secure the stakes. Un ir these circumstances the Coin- e odore and Mr. Boody fell into e habit ot playing worthless inds when it was their next sal, or, in other words, making a reckless venture to improve eir chances of getting a deal ifore the stakes were captured, r somebody else. To put an end to these tactics penalty of five dollars was im >sed if the person playing a orthless hand failed to take two icks, and ten if he did not secure single trick. The Commodore sually played with caution and >Od judgment. An illustration his fondness for a social ganme t cards was brought out a few i ~ars ago at a coroner's in'quest e rer the bodies of the victims of e disaster on the Hudson River 'ilroad. The Commodore had en subpo~naed, and appeared in a >very good spirits at being an- r yed about a matter of which he f td no persnnal knowledge and K ADVERTISIN~ RATES Advertisements insemtad at Asirs of" per square-one ineh-forStst 1iaverd 75c. for each subsequent insertioi. J colamn advertisements tenpsr ceat on abv N'otices of meetings, obituaries aad trMWt " Df respect, same rates per square as ordbt*fP Id ertiements. Special notices in local column 13 cents perline. Advertisements not? markcd with the nnm er of in-zr-nt, w;' he kep in till forbid and charged accordingly. Special c,ontracts mnnrlc with large adver., isers, with liberal de't.c'tir:ns on~ above rates Ira' ft'.rrx Done with tiestnesQ~ and Dispatch Terms Cash. ,ould give no evidence, and so ex )ressedi himself. The coroner asked urn if he had not been informed )f the disaster., "Yes," answered 1he witness, "the conductor tele ;raphed for physiciat s to aid the wounded, and -the dispatch was 'ent to my house." "What did 7ou do about it ?" "1 did no hing," he answered : "it came vhen I was engaged at whist and never allow business to interfere vith the game." He not only kept out of poli ics, but he stayed away from the >olls. Twice in his long life he roted. r8E IMPORTANT Q~UESTION. Of all loathsome diseases Catarrh tands .pre-eminent. It. readers is victim as disgusting to himself ,s to other$. And the most hu. ailiating of all is the,conscious. iess that his presence is. offensive o those around him. If any dis. ase deserves the name of nniver al, it is this. Dietetic errors and ~pishun dat dat white man wuz ne time do casheer cub a freed