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\ jgt ? . r^.f^T' " ' fitir^mt #?b^ |trfD^ptr: jfor % Irtmoti^of % ijMral, Social ^grittttanl nni) Ccmsttrrbil ^ntmsts of % $ont|. ^ TE^j^"-? PM> / ? j _ i j t .... .1 ?m'...'. '-^;' ' ' YOL. 13. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1867. NO. 21. ? ? ' " - f Itlerted ??t*g. 1 \" WHAT I SAW. One Sunday morning, I chanced to stray Into a church not fkr away: The people had assembled there To serve the Lord with psalms and prayer. I ventured in and sought a seat, For here, I thought, au christians meet. I trudged along, up through the aisle, Met here a stare and therea smile. Nothing daunted, on I went. And toward a pew my steps I bent; I entered in and sat me down? The oocupant began to frown: Dainty skirts were drawn aside, The space between us grew very wide. T looked around and heaved a sigh, This church was not fof Buch as L My dress was old, but kept with care : Hands were brown, and worse?were hare; I was poor and they were richCould they fellowship with "sich?" .DtJiureme, ui jcuivuuua uiav, A lady sat. that Sabbath day; A waterfall, of jMfflaa Bedecked her head and filled her eyes; And something else was on her head, With nameless gimcracks overspread? I cannot tejl what all was on it? I 'spose she wore it for a "bonnetj!" "Prom pride, vain glory," I heard her say, "Good Lord, deliver ns," in that day. Nejst to her sat a male exquisite, Or something else?perhaps, "what is it, His hair was parted straight behind, Poodle style, the frizxliest kind; And monstaoie, too, with snch a cnrl, 'Twonld break the heart of any girl! ; His taper fingers, 'circled with rings, I thought bat women wore snch things. Bye-glass he used, with genteel stare, -Heapied me, and began to glare; And then he turned his glass around. And viewed the lady up and down. 1 Her waterfall?he lingered there? < I 'spose he thought 'twas "natural hair," Ana never dreamed of rags and wool Being used to staff them out so full. 1 Well pleased was he with his survey? ] He lowered his glass and turned away. A terrible flatter commenced in the choir, , To shriek the loudest each seemed to aspire? ' Upperattic it was?a screech and a strain? i May I never hear the like again. The sermon was beyond comprehension? The subject, war and political contention. 1 I listened to it all, bnt hot a word Bid I understand of what I heard. - . It ended at last, and snch an array As met my eyes that Sabbath day 1 Immaculate kids, of every hue, And lovely toilets met my view; ( From fluttering 'kerchiefs odors rose That quite entranced my plebian nose. stately dame, both large and tall, I Jostled me against the wall; I gathered up my ancient drees, And toward the door began to press? I But there they'd stopped to have a chat. To tell of this and hear of that? "Belinda's ball was such a success!" "Araminta wore that love of a dress." Augustus Edward had just come down? "How very fortunate he was in town." Vanity, vanity, folly, display, Was what I saw that Sabbath day. MARIE, THE BEGGAR GIRL. ' During the "Reign of Terror" in France, there were many deeds of daring performed, even by ' women, anefmany noble examples of affection exhibited. The very streets of Paris were deluged with human blood, but near ike guillotine it ran in gush- - log torrents. One dark morning an onnsnal number of the], aristocracy bad been marched fbrth,' and eomrttess heads rolled from the block. A gaping multitude stood by, and with shouts rent the air as the aristocracy were thus butchered. Among the assembled multitude, that dreary morning, were two females. One of them was plainly dad, while a cloak was thrown around her, with which she kept her features nearly concealed. But a close observation would betray the fact that the woman had been weeping. Her eyes were inflamed and red, and she gazed eagerly upon the platform, while a shudder passed 1 over her frame as each shock of the glittering knife severed the head from the body of some one who : I had been unfortuuate enough to fall under the ban ' of the leaders. The face of the woman was very beautiful, and ' she was young?certainly not more than sixteen or eighteen years of age. The other female was quite different in character. Her face was fair, but there was a brazen expres- ! sion about it She was clad in-rags, aud as each head fell she would dance, and in various ways express her delight and then exclaim: ' "There falls another aristocrat who refused me charity when I humbly sued to him!" Each expression of the kind would create a laugh from those who heard her. But any thoughtful person must wonder how one so young could have become so depraved. The first female watched this creature for a few moments, and then pressing her way to her side, she laid her hand upon the shoulder of the wretch, and whispered: "Would you liko to beoome rich at once ?" The female in rags turned about with a look of surprise, burst into a loud laugh, and replied: "Of course I would." "Follow me, and you shall be." "Enough. Lead on." It was with considerable difficulty that the feI males extricated themselves from the crowd; but they did so at length, aud then the first female asked of the other: "Whatshall I call you?" "Oh! Fm called the Beggar-Girl, Marie." "You live by begging?" "Yes ; but what's your name, and what do you want ?" "My name is Marie, the same as your own." "Are you an aristocrat?" "It does not matter. If you know where we can find a room, lead me to it, and you shall have gold." The pauper led the way in a narrow and filthy street, and then down into a cellar, and into a dark and filthy room. The other female could not but feel a sickening sensation creep over her, but she recovered hereelf. After contemplating, for a time, the apartment and what it contained, she asked: "Axe you well known in Paris?" "Yes. Everybody knows Marie, the BeggarGirl." "Are you known to Robespierre ? If so, I want 4 to make a bargain with you." "I am. What do you wish ?" "You see my clothing is better than your own and I wish to exchange with you. I want you to consent to remain here, and not to show yourself at all for a short time, or until I oome to you again. As a recompense for aiding me I will give you a thousand francs, and when I come back I will give wftn ? fYtnno&nri more. As securitv for mv return, take this ring." The lady drew a diamond ring from her finger, and gave it to the beggar girl. Then she handed her a parse containing gold. The girl appeared a little puzzled, and said: "Well, what are you going to do with my dress?" "I want to put it on and- go where I first met ?? you. "Oh ! I understand now. You want to see the chopping go on, and you are afraid you will be taken for an aristocrat if you wear that dress.? You want to represent me?" "Yes, I want to look as near like you as possible." """Well, that wont be very difficult. Your hair and eyes, and even your mouth, is like mine.? Your face is too white, though. But we can alter that with a little dirt" They exchanged dresses, and soon the young, : rich and noble Marie de Nantes was clad in the rags of Marie, the Beggar-Girl of Paris. The history of Marie de Nantes was a sad one. fi Qer father and two brothers had fallen victims to I the remorseless fiends of the Bevolution, and a C third and last brother had been seized. But of r his fate she was ignorant, although she expected it v would be similar to that of her other relatives.? He had been torn from her side but a few hours before. ti After the exchange had been made the pauper b looked on the bare feet and ankles of the lady, and r< said: q "That will never do. Your feet are too white and delicate. Let me arrange matters." b In a few moments Marie was prepared, and in 1 the filth and rags, she merged into the street n She now took her course back towards the guillotine, and at length reached the square where the 2 bloody work was still going on. u Gradually she forced her way through the crowd, b and nearer and nearer she came to the scaffold. & She even forced a laugh at several remarks she ic heard around her, but those laughs sounded very b strangely. a She now stood within a few feet of the platform A and swept it with her eyes, but her brother was not there. * - h mUT two O tlATW veioaJ f/ a uv. v/ijf noo uv w icuj^/u w, ' 'Here comes another batch.'' ai Her heart fluttered violently, and she felt a faint- w ess come over her as she heard the tramp of the I doomed men approaching. ki Her brother walked proudly and fearlessly for- w yard, and ascended the very steps which led to the ft block. 01 Up to this moment the strength of poor Marie a< bad failed her, and she was unable to put her re- 0i jolve into execution. n But now a sister's love swelled up in her breast, ti md she recovered her strength. se She sprang forward, bursting through the line a )f guards, and ran up the steps. - tr Grasping her brother by the hand she cried: lo '"What does this mean ? It is only the aristo- ai irats that are to die." h "Away, woman," exclaimed one of the execu- m doners. ki "No; I will not away until you tell me why my i8 Mother is here and thus bound." "Your broiher?" was the echo. rt "Yes, this iff my brother." v< "Well, who are you ?" tl "I am Marie; don't you know me ?" V( "The beggar girl?" "Ay." , A ' 'But this is not your brother ?" a "It is. Ask him?ask him." w Young Antonio de Nantes had turned a scornful ^ jaze upon the maiden, but a light passed across bis face, and he murmured: Dl "Oh, my sister 1" jj "Is this your brother?" asked Kobespierre of -y the supposed beggar, advancing near her. a] "Itis." 4 'But his name is down differently.'' ^ 4'Then you are mistaken. He is my brother.? tl Ask him." ^ "Does Marie speak the truth?" asked Robes- a, Dierre. Cc - A'She dooa)" 0m the brothof'a reply. ?^ "And you are not De Nantes?" 01 "I tell you I am her brother." * "Why did you not tell us this before ?" 0, "I attempted to speak but was silenced." C 4 'But you might have declared yourself.'' F "You would not have believed me.'' a] "But your dress ?" n 4'It belonged to an aristocrat. Perhaps to him ^ for whom I was taken.'' g Robespierre advanced close to young Nantes, t< md gazed earnestly into his face. Then he ap- b proached Marie, and looked steadily in her eyes for a short time. C It was a moment of trial to the poor girl. She n trembled in spite of all her efforts to be calm. She ^ almost felt that she was lost, when the human fiend, e whose word was law, turned and said:' d 4 'Release the man.'' p The chains were instantly removed and Antonio b de Nantes walked down from the scaffold, followed a by his sister, while the shouts of those around rent b the air, for they supposed that it was a commoner who had been saved. v The young man worked his way through the G orowd as rapidly as possible, leading Marie. ti They had scarcely escaped it before the poor v girl fainted from the intensity of her feelings. ti The brother scarcely knew what to do, but a o hand was laid upon his arm, and a voice said: "Bring her to my room again. She will bo safe b there." t The brother conveyed her to the apartment of c the pauper, and asked of her: c "Have you seen the female before?" s "Yes, I know all about it," returned the pan- | per. "She borrowed my clothes to save her lover. 0 She has done it and I am glad." e Before the noble sister returned to consciousness n the brother had learned alL a When she did so they both sought secure quar- g tere, after rewarding the beggar-girl as had been c promised. t "Do you think Robespierre was really deceiv- ] ed ?" asked Marie de Nantes. v "I think not," returned the brother. r "Then why did he order your release?" ( "He saw your plan. He admired your courage, g Could a fiend have done less ?" c "Perhaps this was.the case. But if so, it was s a deed of mercy and the only one that man ever a ^ " "You are right." Antonio de Nantes was not again arrested, and lived happily with that sister who had so nobly periled her own life to save him by representing the "Beggar-Girl of Paris." HOW PAPER COLLARS ARE MADE. A correspondent describes the process of making paper collars and cuffs at a factory in Biddeford, Me. The paper from which they are formed comes in large sheets of the required thickness. Some forty of these sheets are placed one upon another, and then moved under the die which cuts through the whole, giving the requisite shape to forty collars. The paper is then moved under the die again, and forty more cut, and so on to the end. The button holes are next made. Some half dozen collars are placed under the dies, and the three holes cut in each instantly. Next the collars arc placed one at a time under a die or : mnnM whifih imnresses the stitchinc upon them j and marks the line by which the collar is to be i turned or doubled. The collars are then run j through a machine which presses them, and they i are finished. They are then packed in boxes of i ten each, and ten of these boxes put in a larger one, when they are ready for market. i The cuffs are cut with dies after the same man- >, ner as the collars, the button holes cut a by similar 1 method; then they are stitched and then packed for market. Three styles of collars are made? plain enamel and linen surface, the paper being finished in a particular manner for each of these i different styles. The average size of necks is 14} inches. Some collars are made 16} inches long; ! but most are sold 14}, 14 and 15 inchea The i present capacity of this manufactory is 25,000 collars a day, but with a new cutting machine near- i ly ready, its capacity will be more than doubled. fading. GEN. CANBY. In a lato number of tbe Raleigh Sentinel, we nd the subjoined interesting sketch of Gen. E. S. I Canby, the Military Commander of the two 1 Jarolinas. The sketch was written by an ex-Fede- i al soldier, now a resident of Raleigh, who served < rith Gen. Canby: Raleigh, N. C., Sept 10,1867. 1 Messrs. Editors :?I have known our new Dis- i ricfc Commander for many years, and it may not i e altogether without interest to you and your jadere, to know something about his personal 4 ualifications as a soldier, citizen and gentleman. I I have known gentlemen who knew Gen. Canby ] efore I did, and am told that he graduated in j 838 or 1840 at West Point, one of the ablest young 1 len in his class. i He joined the 2nd TJ. S. Infantry, as a Brevet < nd. lieutenant, and remained in said Regiment 1 ntil he was appointed 1st Lieutenant After 1 eimr nromoted 1st Lieutenant Caubv was order- i i to Washington,!). C. Then the war with Mex? breaking out, and the War Department having y this time noticed Lieut Canby's talents, he was ppointed in the Staff Department, as Assistant ic[jut&nt General, with the rank of Captain. A good many of my former companions, who ad the fortune to be with Canby, speak in high urns of his bravery, coolness and good judgment, i an officer, during the Mexican war. I think he as on Gen. Taylor's Staff. A great many times, have been told by officers and soldiers who have nown him, that like Gen. Grant Canby was alays smoking his pipe, or cigar, no matter how erce the battle was raging. I am informed that, a one occasion, the enemy was pursuing our troops :ross a bridge, and Canby's pipe or cigar went at; he stopped under the fire of the pursuing arty, lighted his pipe and went on. At another me, during the Mexican war, Gen. Canby was sverely wounded, and the country came near losing good soldier and gentleman. After Medical eatment, Canby recovered and accepted a furugh, which enabled him to return to his State ad city?I believe Terre Haute, in Indiana, where e married a Miss Hawkins, certainly one of the tost accomplished ladies I have ever seen. I Qowof but one that reminds me of her, and she not far from here. After the war with Mexico closed, Capt Canby tmained in the Staff Department, and was breetted Major and Lieut Colonel by the Senate of le United States, for his gallant oonduct and bra2ry during the war. For a number of years, Canby was on duty as .ss't Adj't Gen'L in the Department of Califoria and New Mexico, until the year 1855, since hen I have known him. On the 5th of March \ 355, when four new Regiments were added to ( le old Regular Army, at the same time that Sidey Johnston was appointed Colonel of the 2nd United States Cavalry, R. E. Lee, Lieut Colonel, . an Dorn Captain, and many more, Canby was 1 ppointed Major 10th United States Infantry, one 1 F the best Regiments in the old Army, to which 1 lany good and brave men have belonged?among 1 lem, Gen. C. F. Smith, the hero of Donelson, ' id Barnard E. Bee, one of the bravest, truest, 1 id best men, that ever wore the sword, and the 1 une who christened Gen. Jackson Stonewall, at 1 ie first battle ofMahassas. In him America lost 1 le of her best men. After the 10th United States Infantry had been ? rganized, in Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, Gen. f anby, then Major, went with his Regiment to ort Snelling, where the Regiment was divided, i nd Major Canby, with a Battallion of his Regi- ( tent went to Fort Ripley, and remained there in ( immand until June, 1857, when the 10th United ( tates Infantry was ordered to Fort Leavenworth, s ) proceed to Utah, which was then trying to re- ' el against the authority of the United States. 1 From that time I saw more, personally, of Gen. > -anby?he always being in command of the Regi- < V - ?1 - 1 -1 .!? xt. 1 | lent, riding at me neaa 01 me uuiuuin, never ithout his cigar, stopping regularly ten minutes ' eery hour to give the men rest, a chance to get a 1 rink of water, take a bite of hard tack, and a 1 iece of Cincinnati chicken. believe I never 1 eard one man of all the Regiment speak a word < gainst Major Canby; he had the love of everyodv. ' There also, on this long, weary march through a I rilderness, accompanied us three ladies, all, thank i rod, alive yet Two of them are now in this Dis- ] rict?Mrs. (Jen. Canby, and Mrs. Gen. Burns, i rife of the chief Commissary officer of this Dis- ] rict The other was Mrs. Gen. Tyler, daughter i f Surgeon Wright, of the regular army. ' i The army came to Utah, on the 27th of Noveracr, 1857, after a march of over 1,130 miles, i hrough snow and cold, and went into camp, called amp Scott, three miles from an old trading post, ailed Fort Bridger. There is where Sidney Johnton received his brevetrank as Brigadier-General, lere Gen. Canby did everything for the comfort f his regiment, while still two officers were presnt who ranked him in the Regiment?Colonel, 1 iow Brevet Brigadier-General, E. B.. Alexander, t present at Fort Snelling, and Colonel Charles F. Imith, the hero of Donelson. He exhibited great harity and feeling for his men, not forgetting that i he enlisted men of the army were flesh and blood. iwmamW of. nno fimA durintr Ffthruarv. 1858. it ras very cold, and we had several sick cases in our egimental hospital. All this time the army in Jtah had nothing but half rations?the beeves ieing killed to save them from dying on account if want of food and the cold. It was dried by moke, and then packed in a log house. One day i man with a packed mule came into camp from Salt Lake city; everybody ran up to see what he lad for sale. He had a few eggs and a little buter, which he sold at $1 a dozen for the eggs, and J 1.50 for a. pound of butter. At that time, Mrs. }anby and the Major came up and bought a part >f the eggs and butter. Not more than half an lour after, I saw Mrs. Canby go from her tent to he regimental hospital, where she divided to evey one who was sick, eggs, butter and bread. You nay imagine, Messrs. Editors, that a good many " ? i ll 11? 1. 1 3 ?i. A. )i tnose rougn oia soiaiers, wuu uau uui ?eeu me imiling face of a mother, sister, or any kindred, or a number of years, showered blessings on that jxcellent lady. In August, 1858, the army went into camp, called uamp Floyd, on the other side of Jordan, 40 miles irom Salt Lake City. General Johnston now orlered Major Canby, with two companies, A and K, 10th Infantry, (Bee and Dunovant) F and I, 2nd Dragoons, (Major Sibley and Captain Smith,) to take post at old Fort Bridger, and establish a regular Post, where also Company F, 7th United 3tates Infantry joined us, under command of Captain Gatlin, Brevet Major U. S. A., another good man. As soon as we had our tents pitched, the next day; we commenced to work, cut down trees, &c., and commenced building. Everything was laid out by Major Canby himself. I remember that when we built a saw mill, to work by water power, Canby was always there himself, superintending. He has practical ideas and knowledge of most everything. Major Canby and command remained at Fort Bridger during '58, '59, and part of 1860, when I remember, the new flag staff" was finished, under Major Canby's superintendence, and, for the first time, the Star Spangled Banner was hauled up on the 22nd of February?Washington's birthday. I remember that same morning Mrs. Major Gatlin presented the Major with a fine boy. At 12 o'clook, M, the troops ware under arms, in full uniform, Major Gatlin fastened the flag to the halyards, and our Post Comnjpnder, Canby, hauled up the flag?the troops presenting arms, the music playing the march of Washington crossing the river from Valley Forge, and the glorions colors were waving in defiance to Brigham Young, arith all his sixty-five wives. Two and a half years before, he asked us to lay down our arms, when we came to the sacred soil of Utah, and he would not harm us! On the 20th of March, I860, orders arrived from Damp Floyd, that General Sidney Johnston had been relieved and ordered in oommand of the Department of the Pacific, where General Clark, the father-in-law of our Post Commander, *Col. Bom?ord, had died. This put CoL Charles F. Smith n command of Camp Floyd, and Mqjor Canby in jommand of the 10th Infantry, stationed at Camp Floyd. The same evening, at retz^ai, Major Can>y turned over the command to Gatlin, and the lecond morning after, started for Camp Floyd. I member it was one of the ooldest and stormiest nornings of that winter; but nothing could induce rim to delay one moment; the order had been revived, and Canby was the last of mon to shrink Int-.v TViIr was tlie last time I saw CoL Canby. in til January, 1863, at Horrisburg. In May, 1860, the army in Utah was divided, ind CoL Canby was ordered, with part of the 10th, [nfantry, 5th Infantry, and 2nd Dragoons, to Fort Jarland, New Mexico, While in command in Sew Mexico, the late war broke out, and Canby vas appointed, on the 3d of May, 1861, Colonel idth United States Infantry. Shortly after, he lad to fight some of his best friends whom he had mown in the army for years,?Msgor Sibley, the nventor of the Sibley tent, and many othecB. The sountiy which had raised him, the flag he was >orn under, were paramount to everything, and he lever faltered a moment in his allegiance to duty, "n some paper I have seen it stated that CoL Can>y failed to show courage in New Mexico, fighting Sibley and others. This is false. There are men n this State, who fought onder Canby at that time, ind they know better. What action Geo. Canby took after .being reieved as Acting and Assistant Secretary of War, n 1863, the people at large know, and it is not necissary to repeat All I wish to say, in conclusion, is this: North ind South Carolina are fortunate to have him as a Commander. Let all politicians, red, white or jreen, stay away from him, and he will do justioe o all. Certainly I know this; he is firm, he knows )o party, and he obeys the instructions and orders >f his superiors. Excuse my long writing, I am an old soldier, vho have seen a good many hard days with our new Commander. OLD SOLDIER. TfAD A AV r*U WT W JD.VAAVCI VMJUJHAJU A Is the best known man in America. His name s as familiar in the Courts of Europe as that of Jladstone or Drouyn de l'Huys. He has been nore talked of, and written about, andcarricatured md lauded, and slandered, than any other citizen of he United States in this generation. He has furlished themes for editorials in every recognized anguage, and has figured so often in Punch, Chaivari, and the Berlin and Vienna comic weeklies, rith. his great hoad and littionoee, stereotyped vhite hat and white coat, that half of Europe conlider him the drollest genius and most peculiar jrcat man in the model Republic. Everybody knows the history of his career?his struggles in his New Hampshire home, his ooming :o New York a poor printer boy, his establishment )f the Tribune, his subsequent course as a politi:iun and journalist, his embarkation in the antiilavery cause, when its advocacy meant social ostracism and avowed fanaticism, down to the suppression of the rebellion, and the perplexities of econstruction. But a very few have any knowledge of Horace Greeley, the actual man, dissociated from pictorial extravaganza and grotesque illustration on dead walls and antagonistic cotemporaries. "We very much doubt if any celebrity is so Evidely and almost universally misunderstood, that the popular conception of any public character is so entirely confounded with the private individual. Seven-eights of the people in the United States believe Greeley subsists wholly on bran bread ; thai; his slovenly costume mainly consists of a white joat, and a slouch hat hung on the back of his bead; that he always wears a boot on one foot and a shoe on the other, and invariably ties his cravat like a hangman's knot under his left ear; that he is a species of baby of fifty-five wirpm police cany across Broadway, and to whose coat unchristian boys pin papers, while he is wondering on the street corner who he is, and mentally offering rewards for the discovery of his remains. Horace Greeley is pre-eminently a public man. He lives in print and on the rostrum; is monomania*^ on the subject of work, and never quite satisfied when wholly withdrawn from the public eye. It is much harder for him to rest than to work.? Though he complains often of weariness and fatigue and the countless tasks he sets himself to do, ho would be wretched if he were obliged to be quiet for a week. If induced to take a little recreation out of town, he devours all the books, and papers and magasines, he can find, and would write letters to the Tribune and Independent, and have something fresh and interesting to say too, if he spent the night at Astoria or Carmansviile, Mr. Greeley was married more than a quarter of a centuiy ago to a young and pretty New England woman, who was teaching in North Carolina, where he accidentally encountered her in his travels. He has been the father of three children, two girls and a boy, the latter of whom was particularly bright, and gave extraordinary promise, but died in his early childhood, leaving a vacuity in his doting parent's heart that has never been filled He had formed the brightest hopes of his boy, and under the bereavement his philosophy, for a time, gave way completely. His two daughters, Gabrielle and Ida, aged respectively eighteen and eight, are clever and interesting, but eccentric and self-willed. They are at present pupils at a convent near the city; the elder has nearly finished her education. Mr. Greeley's house is at unanaqua, tmrty-six miles from the city, on the Harlem railway, where he has a ' Taney" farm of a hundred acres, upon which he has spent most of the money he has earned for the past fifteen years. This farm is his weakness and pet He will talk to any one about it for half a day if he has leisure, and expatiate upon its merits as many men would upon the beauty of a woman with whom they had recently fallen in love. He is always making improvements at Chaffaqua, or what he declares such, at least digging, ditching, planting, draining, sub-soiling, manuring, planning and speculating upon what will be best for the farm. He seems to take more piide in a huge turnip or carrot of his own raising, than in his ablest editorial or most convincing speech. He certainly ought to, for all his products have been very expensive to him; plainer and more practical tillers of the soil estimating that every potato and beet he raises costs him about ten dollars in gold. H. G. denies this, however, and says the hundred acres will make him an excellent re turn before he dies for all he has invested it them. He lives in town six days of the week, bu1 goes home every Saturday and remains until Monday morning. During those twenty-four hours, i I the weather is pleasant, he lays aside journals - V ? books, and pen and paper, takes off his coat and sets to work digging, chopping wood, driving posts or engages in some other purely bucolio employ* ment He relishes this exceedingly, and no doubt it has great influence in preserving his health, which constant labors have never yet impaired.? Hardly a literary man or writer in New York has such physical endurance and fine health as Mr. Greeley. He head is always clear, his band steady, his digestion perfect There is no time when he is not in laboring condition. He has no moods of indolence; waits for no inspirations; defers no task from mere want of leisure. As Clarendon once said of Sir Walter Raleigh, he can toil dreadfully, and at all times and in all places, though he is usually regular in his habits, and lays a solid bar of sleep between his days. Sunday morning, when in this neighborhood, he always attended Dr. Chapin's Universalist Church, of which he is a member, and, though it has been charged that he sleepB through the sermon, he can always give the text and the point of discourse as clearly and correctly as if he had been employed to report it for Monday's Tribune. If the editor-in-chief of the great Radical journal of the country has one delight above another it is elections and election returns. He revels in, and he seems to have a sensuous affection for them. They appeal to his heart as well as. intellect, and enter into the very citadel of his most sacred pleasures. They are to him what the Anatomy of Melancholy was to Dr. Johnson, as Ddphine would be to a sentimental girl, not only taking him out, but keeping him out of bed hours beyond his usual time. He was never known to lie down on election nights, so long as there was any doubt of the result, or any possibility of hearing more. Very often the early sun has lighted the social philosopher from his office, on Printing House Square, to his up-town lodgings; and he has gone home rosy with hope or pallid with despondency, according to the character of the returns. The interest he feels in elections and political measures is personal and absorbing, and he rejoices over them if they favor his views, or resents them if they go against him, as others would the affection of a friend or the insult of a foe. Greeley can count his admirers by tens of thousands; but he has fen! personal friends, for the reason that he does not want, and does not care for them. His attachments are rather to principles than to persons; and while he is unswerving in his loyalty to the former, he seems entirely indifferent to the latter. Perhaps, like the character Goldsmith describes, (with a trifling change) "He coat*off bUfricnita as n huntsman his pack; For be knows when ho will be can whistle them back." The few men he particularly affects he invites to Chaffaqua, and likes to dine with when he has a leisure hour or two. When he has written enough to satisfy bis greedy soul, be relishes stealing out of the sanctum with one of his intimates, sitting down at the Astor table, or at Delmonico's, (corner Broad and Chambers,) and having a pleasant chat . over a bounteous bill of fare. He has an excellent appetite usually, is fond of meats, and especially partial to tea; but he never tastes wine or liquors, spirituous or fomented, and never touches tobacco. He does not take his meals anywhere in particular, but Bohemianizes around, (he is a thorough Bohemian in the truest sense,) as is most convenient and circumstances prompt. -Wemen-h^tfeee-BOtcultivate; he seems to like those of the gentler sort when- thrown into their society, but rarely visits any of the opposite sex except Alice and Phoebe Carey, in Twentieth street, where he always takes tea Sunday evening when in town, and indulges in a deal of pleafcant talk on every subject with the clever people he meets here. It is apart of PL Gr.'s religion to believe he| must write at least two columns for the Tribune every day he is in town, and he does it most fathfully. If he does not have subjects he hunts them up. He enters the office with a half dozers articles in each eye, calls for the evening papers, certain favorite exchanges that are always at issue with him, tilts up his chair, and begins to make Virginia worm fences in ink, which, with a dry humor characteristic of the man, he declares lcgi"ble manuscript For the next four or five, perKiniiQ Rpvpn nr eirrht hnnrs. he is lost to the Outer world, pays no attention to anybody who comes in, unless some one he knows intimately, but scratches away rapidly and wretchedly, until he lias said everything ho desires. Then after writing "must go in" upon most of his matter, he puts on his hat, expresses a daily repeated wish, that he could get somebody to do what he wants dons, and disappears for the night into unknown space. HOW UNCLE BEN LOST HIS HIND SITES. We find the following humorous and capital communication in the Columbus Enquirer. Read it: Editor EnquirerThe Southern Confederacy is a thing of the past She is dead, but will live in the pantheon of nations. Nor was she stricken down, as Austria was, by the prowess of her enemy, but fell as Niagara falls, sublimely by the grav itation of Providence. To this it becomes us to bow our heads reverently. But to the everlasting advice from certain politicians to bow our necks to the yoke of the conqueror, and keep quiet under ruff manipulations, the only reply that can in reason be mode is, that the sheep, though quiet and dumb under the hands of the shearer, will struggle and bleat if the shears nip the skin. Trr-' ^? ?/IrtArv in nro_ W e ve ueeu uiauc uu nouc ucu& uccji u nn- .raters of humiliation. With our hands tied, we've been made to march np and down and beat time to the tune of "Yankee Doodle," with a white bayonet on one side and a black one on the other. We are denied representation, but taxed from cellar to garret, in our incomes and our out comes.? And yet, we must keep qooI, be quiet; go slow, and rely on the organic law of the land. How can we keep down all excitement and go slow when the North is in a rage and breaking things to pieces? When I was a boy, I was boarded with old Uncle Ben Bush, to get the benefits of,a school that had sprung up in that neighborhood. Uncle Ben was a dignified Christian man and sensible, but was a little too fond of piling up precept upon precept He would say in his dignified way, Thad., my boy, you can't do nothin' right under excitement When the house is on fire you can't put it out, ef you're excited. Keep cool, go slow, my boy, and then you'll be in a fix to out do fire, ur sword, ur wild beasts, ur what not. " Ana even when I was relating some incident, and my fancy would become somewhat excited by the friction of the recital, he would say in his short emphatic way, "(Jo slow." From the old gentlemen's precepts of this kind, and his dignified demeanor, I came, in time, to look upon, him as a philospher. But one day a little incident made me forever sensible ; of the wide difference there is between a philosoT ! pher's precepts and his example. The way of it was this: The old gentleman had a large blue ; sow that we called "Old Blue Dinah." Onemorni ing Uncle Ben says: "Thad., my boy, I want you 1 to help me mark 'Old Blue Dinah's' pigs." . The ; sow and pigs being in a five-ac.e lot, Uncle Ben i told me to turn the sow out, pin the gate, and i make the dog catch the pigs, which he would do ; without hurting them by holding them down with i his nose and paws till I could come up and take ; hold. But before we commenced, says I: "Uncle Ben, old Blue Dinah's.as strong as an elephant, f and when she hears her pigs squeal she'll be as i mad as a tiger, and she'll get through that gate too." Says he: "Did you put the pin in?" Says I: "Yes; but it's nothing but pine, and she'll break it like a pipe stem." Says he "Go slow." Well, the dog and I had caught the last pig, and Uncle Ben was coming leisurely up, knife in hand, when, sore enough, the pin broke and the old sow bore down upon us like a brigade with gongs. As I had the pig, I expected the infuriated beast to attack me, but not so; she made for Uncle Ben, and Uncle Ben made for the fence. For a moment I stood stock still, almost paralysed with fear lest the sow should overtake him. At length, however, I thought of my own safety, and made for the same friendly structure, which I reached just in time to see Uncle Ben still going it as if the sow had crossed the fence when he did. Partly for mischief, and partly to let the old gentleman know that all danger was over, I shouted: "Uncle Ben, goslow." At this, he-pulled up, and making towards the fence where I sat, saidin a tone of voice very unusual with him: "Thad., you're a fool, sitting on the fence hollering 'go slow,' instead of knocking that infernal old brute on the head with a lightwood knot, and she a tearin' my very hind - te >> T J- . v?J 1 TT?^L, Hi ICS on. x xuhuu a uuuuouuie apviugjr nu uuw Ben, and suggested that wfe might finish marking that pig, but he excused himself and went off in a sort of huff. As he turned to go, I discovered that what he called his hind sites was the seat of his breeches, which the qld sow had torn away just as he was clearing the fence. From the incidents of that day, which are stall fresh in my memory, I have drawn the following conclusions, applicable to our present condition: 1st It seems to me that the North is as much infuriated as Old Blue Dinah was. 2d. That the organic law we are told to rely upon is about as reliable as an organic pine pin. 3d. That under certain trying circumstances, even a Christian gentleman is liable to lose his equanimity with the loss of what Uncle Ben calls hind sites. Thaddzus op Warsaw Bush. SEA BATHING. A correspondent of the Home Journal, writing from Long Branch, N. J., gives an interesting and amusing sketch of sea-bathing, as it is practiced by the ladies at that popular Summer resort He also makes some startling revelations, as to their beautiful hair, teeth, complexions, &c. Says he: "The bathing is, to us, the great attraction at this place, and the scene, frota ten until twelve in the morning, is both ludicrous and pleasing. Groups of young ladies, accompanied by their mammas, come down from the hotels attired in all their morning finery, and emerge from the b&hing-houses dressed in every imaginable bathing costume. To some ladies, a bathing-dress is very becoming, while others look like 'frights," to use the expression of one of the sex. We have seen a lady who was positively ugly, look quite charming in a light blue bathing suit and broad-brimmed straw hat. It is very amusing to watch the ladies bathe.? They are almost always timid, and avoid going into the water as long as possible, preferring tonrun down the beach just near enough to get their delicate little feet damp, and then scream in the most heart-rending manner. They sit along the beach l ?J ?L- ?i?j >? ?i. u iUJU niHEC KUiU piW) OOk IUVOC WUU tVUlC uuv u tbe water is cold, or deep, and how they feel At last, having become sufficiently courageous, they form a line by taking hold of one another's hands, and slowly inaugurate a second "march to the.sea." The first wave that breaks over the line seta them all screaming, and uttering exclamations oi fear and pleasure. When they step into the gulley, which must be passed before reaching the fiats, they all imagine that they are going to drown, and cry and scream to a great extent Having reached tbe flats, and finding themselves in shallow water, their courage returns, and they danoe up and down to avoid the breakers, laugh and talk, splash water, and have a happy time generally.? Such exclamations as, "Here comes a big one I" "Aint this nice?" "Don't let go my hand!"? "Where's my hat?" etc., are heard on all sides. We were very much surprised to see one young lady on the beach, whom wo had been admiring very much on account of her abundant and elegantly dressed head of hair, which was of that rare tint of auburn, so much admired at present Judge of our surprise and amazement when wo saw her in her bathing dress, sitting on the sands, waiting for some gentleman to take her in, with a few short wisps of hair hanging down her neck. We passed and repassed her two or three times, to be sure we were not in error, but there was noflfetaking the lady, and we were overwhelmed with the discovery we made as to how much art could do in the way of extra adornment for the fair sex. In the water there con be no disgnise, and you see the fair creatures as they really are. If their hair is false, it has to come off, and if there is a suspicion of paint or rouge, it washes off, and false teeth are either taken out and left in the bathinghouse, or, if worn, they shake about in the most surprising manner. A large foot shows itself tc disadvantage, and a hand without rings, cuffs, etc., must be very small and white to look pretty. Th^ sun is a great truth teller, and shows every one iu their true light, and it is the best test for agewrinkles, however small, are sure to appear. The season now is at its height, and all manner of entertainments are given daity. THE PAPER* DON'T SAY. A few evenings ago, farmer Slocum was reading an account of a dreadful accident which had occurred at a factory in the next town, and which the village editor had described in a great manj hard words. "I declare, wife, that waff an awfa accident over tew the mills," said Mr. S. "Whal was it about, Mr. Slocum?" "I'llread the 'count, wife, and then you'll know all about it" Mr. Slocum beran to read : "Horrible and Fatal Accident?It becomes oui painful duty to record the particulars of an accident that oocurred at the lower mill of this village yesterday evening, by which a human being in the prime of life was hurried to "that bourne fron: which," as the immortal Shakspcare has said, "nc traveler returns." ['Do tell!' exclaimed Mrs. S.] "Mr. John Smith, a workman who has but feu superiors this side of the great city of New York, was engaged in adjusting a belt upon one of the large drums," ["I wonder if 'twas a bass drum, such as has E. Pluribus Unum painted on't," saic Mrs. Slocum,} when he became entangled. Hu arm was drawn around the drum, and finally hit entire body was whirled over the shaft at a fearful rate. When his situation was discovered, he had revolved with immense velocity about fifteen minutes, his head and limbs striking a large beam a distinct blow at each -revolution, l rwfwwiai how it must have 'urt him!"] "When the mar chinery had been stopped, it was found that Mr. Smith's arms and legs were macerated to a jelly ["wonder if it killed him," said Mrs. S. J "hii skull was fractured; his spine dislocated." ["Well, did it kill him?" asked Mrs. S., with increased interest. ] ' 'Portions of the dura matter, cerrebrum, cerrebellum, in confused masses, were* scattered about the floor?in short, the gates of eternity hac opened upon him." "Was the man killed?" said Mrs. S. "I don'l know?haven't come to that yet?you'll knoi when I've finished the piece.'' And Mr. Slocun continued reading. . - . "It was evident, when the shapeless form wai taken down, that it was no longer tenanted by ai immortal spirit?that the vital spark Was extiuct["Was the man killed ? that was what I wanted ti come at," said Mrs. S.] extinct." - p art wwsk a m < * "Do have a Httie patience, old 'email/' -gill Mr. Slocum, "I presume we shall oome ttpoR it right ? away." "This fatal casualty has cast a gloom &tei 6x&-' village, and we trust'that it will be a wwning-to persons who are called, to regulate machinery in our mills." "Now," said Mrs. Slocum, ttI fhduH,Eke to know whether the man was killed or w>Ty Mr. Slocum looked pwpled. He scndchedhjs head, scrutinized the article, he had been ingjingji ftS took a general survey of the paper: ."Idecline wife," said he, "it's rather earns; bat iaidr/dfer paper don't toy." *?<f v : tt, ? yurac iijH sAYnre,. .. t ... ..... A man is very apt to doeeive himself Into the idea that he cannot save, and that it. is ph.mm attempting it He convinces hithmlf 'that Jarigb come is little enough for present nfjwmlgsjtfid - t . pats off the hope qf atynmiilatMB, nflfe at all, to the happy period when he shall be in better circumstarfcee. His cireumstanoea do perhaps,. improve ; but Ue wants have ettended as anwh) and still the time for saving is Ar ^htM^ lftiy he goes on and on, resolving and re-reaolving, until he is at last surprised by some sudden calamity which deprives him even of his ordinaiy ?u*unjpy, or by death, which cruelly outs him off in the vetj^ midst of the best intentions in the world. Did any man, we would ask, experience a falling off in his income, even to so small an extent as one dollar in the week? Many answer theyhave; Did they con tioue to live st a redaoed raie? They reply, we did so?we were compelled to do f! and, pray, what is the (fiffertnoe compelled to live a dollar a week cheaper and Coftt-, pelling yourself to do it ? Or, suppose stationary wages.and a rising produce mtpfcefc-Hiid you not find that, though bread rose a penny a loaf, other proviaons-ia proportion, yoa- still continued to make your income procure Bona^hinglfat the usual exhibition of victuals?/ You answer, jes^i And where, I would ask) is the difference betwsdtf1 ' spending a small extty sum uponcertaiirarticlegdf' food and laying it by for accumulation, supposing it not to be so needed ? It isdear that if yMlMP the fortitude and strength of charicterto make tHe^ savings as much a matter of compulsion as . the other drcumstaBoes are, you woulaiave. ; have, therefore, no excuse to present for not saving, except that you are too weak minded to abstain from using money which is in your power. . MACHINE mm BRUSH.; , ; The London correspondent of the Cincinnati Commercial describes an improvement in the man: ner of brushing the hair, which he saw in England. He says: i Enter one of these rooms, and you will notiee a revolving shaft extending along puHeys upon it at regular interval* ^Benaath each. v, pulley is a barber's chair, with ^ flexible'bend of india rubber extending down from above. T9L , are placed in the chair, sitting upright, and the operator takes his position behind you with his brush, which is of A cylindrical shape, about six inches in diameter, the bristiesaxteadingfipaaradKi , outward. A spindle goes through it with a handle at each end. This spindle, which is held by the barber with both hands, is stationary, whHe the brush revolves about it with Hghtciug velocity, when the band which hangs down from the shaft % above it is placed around a pulley on $e brush. The elasticity of the imlia rubber head xtioefc'tiwt . the operator can hold the brush, taming all the time, a foot above your head, two feet behind ymi^ just touch your hair or sweep through it with a velocity of a hundred revolutions a minute, whiKti cloud of dust and dandruff falls down in front of , you, leaving your .head perfectly foe and cpqft . from all impurities, more than any ?hampn?wj process could accomplish. The whole thiug^.is done in an instant almost They have hard brushes and soft brushes, and the sensation as they whirl' around your head and through your hahria electrical. A morning headache disappears almost fair , mediately; and any one who his experienced the . luxury of having his hair brushed by machinery finds if a pleasure which, in future,die will pgat irilliDgly forego. There are hundreds of thqse establishments in England, and their number is con-; stantly increasing. - htm* ' . * ? ? i? A Horse Finds-bob Wat Home Aitxn am Absence of Foub Years.?Mr. Green Tripfet,cf Flemingburg, Ky.. sold a horse to a man wh<j was ' buying horses for theGovernmcnt eariyft the w?ir:' The same horse was taken to Cincifmati and sold to an officer in the United States anfty; aWFrihii ' that time nothing was heard of him until* afMr days ago, when he returned to the farm of Mr. i Triplet, who had raised him from a colt, The ' horse was four yean old when he left, and now mi turns aged eight years, having been on quite a ' tour since he left his home. Where he came from,* - or how he managed to find the place of his birth, ; is involved in mystery. I Mr. Triplet is an excellent hand with horses, and it is supposed that the animal was btufy treat-' ed. and having evaded the vigilance of his maat$& i has returned to the home of his ehmee. This iafc remarkable illustration of the wooderftxl instinet s possessed by the horse. This horse was absent four long years in distant and strange lands, and how he managed to find his w*y back bone is qipte a problem for ttye naturalist. It shows that the , horse is possessed of a wonderful instinct, and | years do not wipe out his memory. ', , ^ ? " i A St,kept Bride.?The New Orleans OrtteaU ' gets the following from one of the Sisters of CharI ity at a hospital in that city: g: t Sister Mary gave an account of a singular mar^ i riage that took place during the morning in the chapeL Some time ago the newspapers announced that a young man had attempted tooommit suicide in town by shootinghimself. He was taken to the Hnte) "Rimi. and it was feared the wound wasmor ! tal, but -with the care he received he was onto? 1 danger in a few days. The cause of his attempt 1 to destroy himself then became known. He was * in love. His inamorita had promised three times I to marry him and disappointed him every tune. * ' . The last was too much, and a bullet armed at > the heart was to end his misery. The crnel lady 1 visited him at the hospital, and there she pledged ' herself to him again. The ceremony was to have ' taken place at 8 o'clock yesterday morning. The > lady again failed. The expectant groom wa* in ft ' wretched state of mind, until he received a men* ' sage from her that she had overslept herself and ! would be with him at 11 e^OcET Atthat hour she was there, and the oeremony took place. . "Only think," said Sister Maiy, "of a hride sending word that she had overslept herself!" ~ m TTT .... K't.' UOLLECHON OP THE tax oh tthuobj^.?? is stated that a radical change in the manner of ooli looting the whiskey revenue tax will be reoommen, ded.at the next session of Congress, embracing s . proposition to dispense with the oftces of inapee^ ( tors, detectives, &c., and providing that eaeh whi* I key still shall be taxed to the amount of its oapiao; I ity. An inspector cr ganger of stills will he ordered to measure their capacity, after which the pro* t priefcor can obtain from the collector of the district r a license to run them for a week, month or yew, i as they choose to select, which license must 1* paid for in advance. The cost of the charged s oense^ will, of coarse, amount to the present tax on i the maraftetured article. It^ vriD M the ame ume protect hofcet duullwa. . V V / \ J*