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r f jMg Itiospaptr: jcr % |rcmoti<nt of % political, j^gtial, ^gricaltitral writ Coimnercial |ntmsts of % jSj] ^ T^^ru cijL^A^T?* VOL. 15. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 6, 1.869 - HO. 18. - I " I I il.L 1i-ILJ1LJ..i I 1 j'y, 1 ' 1 Original fflettg. For the Yofkville Eaqulrer. LINE 8 Upon the occasion qf a sudden niaht-snoic upon the Mountains, Asherilte, If. <?, Jan. 1849. a BT HRWEY R. DICKSON. The Mountain* ! the Mountains! they are robed In snowy white, Natore clothed them all in glory to the wild and starless night; She waited uot for daylight, so eager to surprise The sleeping villagers below, when they turned their waking eyes. Their King, majestic Ptsgah, she uowucd with many a gem, Icicle* and snow-drupe glittering from each mossy stent Of mountain shrubbery, such aa mountains only wear To deck their rugged brows, and in their beauty share. Ah! P lag ah, mountain sovereign, the bounding rills that leap From thy towering summit, along each rocky steep Seem to be tears of sorrow eoumtng down thine aged cheek, Expressing deeply, clearly, thoughts which tboc canal not speak. Tis for the mountain village, these tears of sorrow start, For If thy bosom heaves, for It thy giant heart Sends up a daily fervent prayer to thy Maker, Goo, To spare it yet anothei?year from the fury of His rod. And when the last great day shall coine, when earth shall pass away? ^ Nor heavens survive the shock, perhaps thy form shall stay Ling'ring to take a last fond look, ere thyself in ruin fall, And the dying world be robed in its stteni funeral pall. Ihe ftfltg Met. r A GENUINE GHOST STORY. Some years ago I was laid up several weeks with a lame leg, in an obecure village in North Wales. It was the dullest of plaoes, and I should nearly have died of ennui were it not, being familiar with the language, I was able to get acquainted with the people and study their household habits and household lore. Many were the strange tales they told as we sat around the cheerful peat-fire in the long autumn evenings?tales of fairies and goblins; of spirits and demons; of corpse-candles and wraiths; of witchcraft and glamor of the evil eye. Most of these made little impression beyond the moment, but the following, partly because the man who told it was intelligent beyond his station, partly beoanse it seemed to illustrate a characteristic feature of Welsh superstition?interested me so much that the outline, and, with some exceptions, the exact words, became firmly fixed in my memory. If Robert Pritchard, this was the story-teller's name, still walks in the flesh, and should chance to see these pages, he wiB do me the justice to bear witt nes that I have feithfully reported him. Lt You don't believe in ghosts ? I do. When you have heard my story you shall jou^p whether my Sr belief is well founded. You know Welshmen are superstitious. The belief in supernatural apparitions is sacredly enshrined ; every glen, and mountain defile, and ruin ** ' ' ''* ~ rni a* has its laminar sprue, mere ? UUt a ivnai vi i hamlet?there is hardly a farm house or cottage, from the Dee to the Severn, bat boasts its bwgan. To deny that the spirits of dead men walk the earth at night, is accounted the rankest heresy. Yet I was an unbeliever. I would argue by the hours against the possibility of such a thing as a visitation from the other world. And h was not mere bravado. 'I can truly say that I feared neither man nor deviL Many and many a time have I put my hardihood to the test by visiting haunted places in the dead of night, sometimes simply to show my more timorous companions how superior I was to the common infirmities of mankind. I spent one whole night lying in wait for the famous demon, Cader Idris, on the very track of his goblin rounds. Another time I slept in an old ruined i mill, where the spirit of the murdered Rodin Goek I held nightly revel. A few weeks later, I made a ft bet that I would pass the small hours iu the sor ciety of the terrible Bwgan Uchy Mynydd?a ghost I whose unearthly shrieks were wont, on stated A nights, to disturb the sleep of the good people for utiles around?and won. Finally to cap the climax of my audacity, I went out one wild night to meet * the spectral smuggler of Maen Melit, who, aooording to universal report, was accustomed to ply his old trade?anchor his shadowy craft in the cove and land his shadowy oargo. Yet, nor ghost nor goblin came near me. But I was destined to have a far different?more terrible experience. An old man named Hu Hirwau was found murdered in his cabin one morning. He was a strange creature?half savage, half idiot, 1 who lived alone, his only companion an enormous ill-favored Hack cat He had the appearance of the most abject poverty, yet it was generally believed that he possessed considerable money concealed somewhere about the premises. The more ignorant of bis neighbors insisted that be had dealings with the Evil One, and some went even so far as to affirm that he came to his death by no mortal hand. A belated peasant, going home from the village tavern after a more than usually heavy orgie, declared that as he passed the hut he saw the old man struggling with his Satanic majesty, ' in the shape of a gigantic black cat; and as the cat, his only companion, was seen no more after L the murder, the story gained considerable credence. The authorities, however, took a somewhat different view of the case. An examination of the " ~ - il - ' body revealed an ugly wound on tne Biae 01 me head, as if inflicted with a bludgeon. Suspicion rested on a worthless fellow, named Dick Wirion, (Dick the foolish) who was seen prowling about the place on the evening of the tragedy. He was arrested, brought, according to the custom of the country, to the presence of the murdered man, and made to stand over it According to the time honored test, if the prisoner is innocent the defunct "makes no signif guilty the wound opens and a spurt of blood flies on the person. Poor Dick was hit square in the face with a thin stream of gore, fell to the floor in a fit and was carried back to prison. A bloody club was found back of his cabin, several sovereigns were taken from his pocket, which, added to the accusation of the corpse, seemed to make the case against him clear as day. In those times?this, you must know, sir, happened forty years ago?it did not take long to prove a man fit for the gallows. Dick was tried, convicted and sentenced at a single sitting of the court, and a week later was comfortably and quietly hanged. ^ Hardly was the poor devil under the ground when strange stories began to be whispered around the peasant firesides. It was said the cabin of the murdered hermit was haunted. Unearthly noises were heard in the dead of night; sounds as of men struggling in mortal conflict; shrieks and groans such as never came from human lips; cries for help and peals of demoniac laughter were testified to by reputable witnesses. A fisherman swore be- i fore a oommittee of investigation that, passing by one night, he saw the spirit of the old man standing by the garden fall, the ghastly wound on the side of the head bleeding freely, the hollow eyes glaring wildly at him. A cattle drover deposed before the same oommittee that, going home from the market-town, shortly after midnight, he saw near the scene of the murder, strange lights dancing, and heard distinctly the noise as of a heavy chain dragged over a pile of stones. A young man who had been visiting his sweetheart, testified that while passing the place he heard his name called three times, and looking toward the hut saw it lighted up and the murdered Hu beckoning him ^ to come in. W The ghost became the absorbing theme of the L town. Nothing else was thought or talked of. It V was made the subject of a special meeting of the local authorities. The Rev. Hugh Reese, pastor of the dissenting church, fulminated against it ir two of his most powerful sermons. The select committee to which I have above referred, visited the haunted premises, and although armed with a copy of the Holy Bible, two swords and a brace of pistols, were so appalled by the appearance of the speotre that they fled in terror, and disbanded to meet no more. Finally, a messenger was dispatched to Carnarvon to summon the Rev. Didymns Davis, the famous exorcisor, who made his appearance on the scene, prayed, and read seven chapters from the Evangelists, winding up with the following formula: "Whether you be spirit or devil?whether you be from heaven above or hell beneath?I command you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, to leave this place forever." But it was no u&e. The next night the spirit of old Hu was more troublesome than ever, so that the whole neighborhood were terror stricken by the howls and shrieks that issued from the haunted cabin. The poor people, who never had so unmanageable a ghost before, were in despair. It was at this time the incident happened that exercised such a controlling influence over my future life. A lot of us young fellows had been carousing at a village tavern. We had made a good I haul at our herring fishing, and were spending our money freely. The conversation naturally turned [ to the subject of old Hu's ghost All were firm believers in the apparition, except myself, who stoutly insisted that the whole affair was gotten up ! by some interested person, in order to get possession of the cabin. "Now, I will tell you what I'll do," ssysShou Cadwallader, captain of a fishing smack, "I'll lay a wager of five guineas that you dare not go to the haunted hut, and stay there all alone, from midnight till three in the morning," I had been drinking heavily, and promptly replied, "I agree." The matter was soon arranged, the money was put down, and I started for the hut, accompanied by three of my companions, who were to see me enter. The night was dark and dirty?so dark you couldn't see the length of your arm. I must say I felt a little uncomfortable as I approached the haunted tenement; but I walked boldly up to the door, pushed it open, entered, and extemporizing a light, (matches were not invented then,) lighted a candle with which I had provided myself and took a survey of the place. It was a miserable thatched roof, mud-walled hut, with hard earthen floor, nearly- bare of furniture, aod inexpressibly dreary. The air was close and dank, as if the taint of the bloody deed, enacted a few weeks before, still lingered. Everything remained as it 1? it j T *1 k* T wua wutiii cue uiuiucr naa uulliuiiiacu, jl luuugui i could even see traces of the struggle on the moulded walls. The floor in several places bore the dark stains of the dead man's blood. Altogether, the sight was one to make even as hair-brained a fellow as I timid. But I sought to drive unpleasant fancies away. I threw myself down on a bench by the table, and waited the issue of my adventure. I lay quietly some time?so quietly I could hear my heart beat. The stillness was oppressive: I grew nervous under the awful hush of the midnight, and fancied a thousand horrible sights and sounds. I thought I saw tl$ old man as he lay in his shroud; thought I heard the old familiar voice' pleading for mercy at the hands of his assassin. Little by little, however, my perceptions became less and less distinct. My eyelids dropped, and I fell into slumber. How loug I slept I have no idea; but I woke up suddenly, and became conscious that I was no longer alone. I felt?for my eyes were still closed?that there was something or somebody that had entered while I slept?near me. Its presence was palpable to all my finer senses. I seemed to be, as it were, enfolded by invisible arms?wrapped in a spell so absolute aud terrible, that I was powerless to resist. But I knew that to yield would be fatal; and so, with a mighty effort of will, opened my eyes, and looked in the direction whence the strange influence came. On the other side of the table, directly opposite and not more than four feet distant, sat a human figure, or what seemed one. The face was in shadow, the side of the head turned toward me. That it was that of an old man, I could see from the stoop of the shoulders and the thin locks of gray hair that drooped from the temples. He was dressed in the quaint long socks and knee-breeches of the Welch peasant His hands rested on his knees, his head was bent toward the floor. For a moment I was paralyzed with terror ; but, by one of those revulsions of feeling we cannot explain, the next instant I had half-persuaded myself that my companions had been playing a trick upon me. "One of these fellows," I said to myself, "has dressed himself to look like old Hu Hirwan, has come in while I slept and means to frighten me into losing my wager.'' Determined to be even with the rascals, I caught up a stout walking stick that lay beside me and aimed a blow at the shoulders of the mysterious intruder. Great God! It struck impalpable air. I could see it pass through what seemed a solid body without meeting the least resistance, striking the floor with a crash. The next instant the figure rose slowly from the ohair, turned round and faced me. Shall I ever forget the paralyzing agony of the dreadful moment ? There stood within a few hands' breadth of me what seemed once the mortal part of old Hu Hirwan; but how awfully changed! The face had the livid hue of death; the eyes were sunken and burned with a ghastly glare; the dampness of the grave was upon the shriveled brow. The wound on the side of the head gaped hideously. I was too terrified to speak?too terrified to move?but stood" helpless staring at the spectre. I had not even will enough to shut my eyes to the awful vision; yet I had sufficient self-possession to know that the spell by which I was held must be speedily broken or I should die; and remembering what had been so often told me of the efficacy of speech, I summoned all my energies for a last effort and gasped out: "In the name of the Most High, I command you to tell me what your errand is." The clammy lips quivered, the shrunken faoe became eloquent with a horrible intelligence, and the spectre spoke as follows: "I fell by the hand of Owen Roberts, my kinsman, who came to rob me. Denounce him as my murderer, see that he is brought to justice, and I shall disturb you no more." The light went out from the hollow eyes, the form of the dead man seemed to shrivel and fade away, and I was left alone. You smile, sir; you think I dreamed all this. Wait until you have heard me through. I rushed out of the hut, bounded over the garden wall, and ran home as if all the fiends were after me. Next day I called upon the magistrate of the town and told him my story. Strange to say, he betrayed little surprise, and remarked that facts had recently come to his knowledge which induced him to believe that Owen Roberts was the real murderer, and that the order for his arrest was already issued. A few hours later Roberts was in the clutches ef the law, and when told that he was accused by witnesses both from this world and from the world of ghosts, broke down completely ana confessed all. He was tried, convicted and haDged on the very gallows whero poor Dick Wirion innocently swung. The ghost of old Hu came no more, and the good people of Rhoslan enjoyed a long immunity from supernatural visitation. Jfi?*Dr. Franklin, speaking of education, says: "If a man empties liis purse into his head, no man can take it away from him. An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest" IpSfeUaiJMtt* fUaditig. For the Yorkvllle Enquirer. JOHN A. STUART, ESQ. Mr. Editor :?Turning the leaves of my Scrap Book the other day, I came upon the subjoined verses, written fbr, and published in the <4Charleston Evening News", nearly twenty years ago; and as they may not be generally known to your readers, I solicit a place for them iD your columns. They are evidently the production of a mind, whose prime season of order and strength had passed. I have a boy's vivid impression of the author's visit to the city where I then resided. It was, perhaps, his last appearance in the community where his genius had shone with such memorable lustre, in the columns of the "Mercury." Then he was a splendid wreck, wandering the streets in deplorable frenzy. I call to mind wich melancholy emotions, the fits of eloquence which often arrested and detained the passing crowd; but especially these verses, whose peculiar pathos moved me then, and moves me now. For many sad hearts, it is surely no strange experience, that memory, running over the checkered past, should linger and weep over sorrows and bereavements which occurred in the season of Spring, when beloved forms and noble hearts were laid, cold ana stiu, Deneatn the violets, " when Sprint Come* forth, ber work of glad n cm to continue, With all her reckless birds upon the wlag, We turn from these to those she cannot bring. By the way, what has Mr. Stuart left behind him to witness to his genius ? Cannot your versatile correspondent in Columbia, J. W. D., gather up and preserve some worthy memorials of his richly endowed intellect? R. SPRING. by john a. stitabt. They call the Spring-time gay and glad, But sad to me is Spring, I dread the tender memories Its flowers and wild-birds bring. Of laughing hearts and lustrous forms, That In my childhood play'd A never-tiring jubilee, In home's sequestered glade. And thinking on that kindness, That instinct used to be, I wonder how that greenwood now Is desolate to me. How each cherished school-boy play-ground spot Has a church-j ard atmosphere, And the very names are now forgot, That used to make them dear. Mv father's in his honored grave; In the old Springs 'twas his pride To train his son to manliness, As I sported by his side. My mother, now bowed low with years, Was then a matron fair ; And often blessed her naughty boy, As she smoothed my truant hair, Ahd she that was the star-light Of my boyhood's early dream ; Whose eye-beam shot a diamond bridge Of moonlight o'er life's stream. I little thought, when trembling, She bade me wreathe her brow, That her chosen one should bo doomed by her, To the death ill Life, of NOW. Spring 1?'Twos a bright Spring morning, When my little daughter died; Her siBter hung upon my neck, And in agony we sighed. When a flock of birds dropped glittering On the lawn before the door^ AI1U W1H1WJU, VY UU-JUll bii uiuoii; To listening Heaven did pour. We could have dally greeted them, In hours of joy or ease; But then, they soomed to come In spite, To mock our miseries. Our crushed hearts deemed it cruel wrong, That anything was gay, When our sorrow was so mighty ; Our Emma gone away. Oh! May-<lew in the rose's cup, Is but memory's frozen tear; Our hopes e'er blighted?bosom frozen, By the night-frost of despair. And the breathing of the fresh turned earth, On which my foot-steps tread, Is a whisper from the early lost? The lost, the loved, the dead. THE FAMILY OF ANDREW JOHNSON. The family of Mr. Andrew Johnson was the least ostentatious of any that has yet inhabited the White House, and its members preserved at the capital the simple manners of their former state, j The retirement and quiet of their life was so great that many are curious to know of them, and a few words of description may be interesting to your readers. During her occupancy of the Executive Mansion Mrs. Johnson has lived almost as secluded as a nun. This has been in part owing to a bronchial difficulty and a consumptive tendency, with which she was first afflicted at the beginning of the rebellion. The physical trouble was subsequently aggravated by the loss of her eldest and favorite son who was thrown from his horse and instantly killed, at the beginning of the war, whilst on his round of duty, as surgeon of the First Regiment Tennessee Infantry. Very few American women have suffered more than Mrs. Johnson in behalf of the Union. She has known what it was to fill with her own hands the basket of bread and meat that was to be stealthily conveyed to a hiding-place in the mountains, to keep from starvation her daughter's husband. It was a chastened spirit she brought to the White House, and though her presence was seldom I ? w . 1 /? 1 - SI il l!n J denied to personal mencis, witn me gutter aau pump of state she had nothing to do. Mrs. Andrew Johnson, whose maiden name was Eliza McCardel, was bom in 1811, and will be fiftyeight years of age on herncxt birthday. She is two years younger than her husband, and not older* as the newspapers are in the habit of telling the story. She was married in Greenville, Tennessee, when she was in the eighteenth year of her age. Her young husband at that time was not twenty. The honeymoon was spent in teaching the future President the rudiments of education. Mrs. Johnson says "she taught him the letters, but he was an apt scholar, and acquired all the rest himself." With the exception of a few months in the early part of Mrs. Johnspn's married life, her home has always been in Greenville, Tennessee. It was here that her five children were born?three sons and two daughters?of whom Mrs. Patterson is the eldest. This daughter's name is Martha, and she was married to Judge Patterson in December, 1855. Soon after their marriage, Mr. Patterson?who was practicing law at the time?was appointed Judge of the First Judicial district of East Tennessee. During most of the time of President Johnson's administration he has occupied a seat in the Senate. ?* T ' ? 3 5 t.- /vr \ ; , .Kirs, o oudsod s secoua uaugntcr ^iuary; marnea Mr. Stover in April, 1852. Col. Stover was one of the most gallant of those officers who laid down their lives in the defence of the Union. Though he had not the soldier's honor to perish on the battle-field, his slow, painful death was in his country's cause. Colonel Stover was one of the leaders who headed the Union men of East Tennessee. He was one of the first to enroll himself among the number who, as an organization, were known as "Bridgeburners." His patriotic course attracted the attention of the rebels at once, and without a moment's preparation he was driven to the mountains of East Tennessee. During the inclement months of November, December and January, 1861, he was a hunted fugitive, hiding in the holes and caverns of the rocks. It was during this awful winter that Mrs. Johnson filled the basket with meat and bread, when her daughter, the sorrowful wife, wa8 so smitten with anguish that she had not the strength to perform the task. Every man who tapped at the door of the lonely firmhouse was supposed to be miing to bring the news that the son and husband was hanging to a forest tree. Some of their neighbors had been afflicted in this way, and this dread was the penalty paid foT Unionism in East Tennessee. During this fearful period, in which Colonel Stover suffered from cold and starvation, the seeds of consumption were planted in his constitution. At last, through the efforts of some old personal friends who were strong rebels, he was allowed to go home; bat he brought with him.a sharp, rasping cough. Soon after he was allowed to pass through theTebel lines, in company with his family and Mrs. Johnson. He proceeded at once to Kentucky, where he raised a regiment which was afterwards known as the Fourth Tennessee Infantry. No braver regiment served during the war, and but very few did the country more : effective service; but before thia gallant band had I time to'distinguish itself in any great battle, its brave, energetic Colonel had passed away at the early age of thirty-five. At the beginning of the rebellion Colonel Stover % a n /a _ it was living tne independent lire 01 a iarmer in aifluent circumstances. His large farm was well stocked with cattle, and his barns were filled. His house soon became known as a resting and breathing place for the fleeing Union fugitives. After the departure of the family the buildings were destroyed. At his death his widow was left with three small children and a scanty subsistence. Mrs. Stover has never asked Congress to indemnify her for any losses. Visitors at the White House during the past two or three years may retain the memory of a dignified, statuesque blonde, with a few very fine points, which a fashionable butterfly once said would make any woman a belle if she only knew how to make the most of them. Mrs. Stover never became a star in fashionable circles, and now that she has left the gay capital, perhaps for a lifetime, she is remembered by those who knew her best as the charming companion of the domestic fireside, a true daughter and judicious mother. The eldest son of Mrs. Johnson was killed. Not long after his receiving his diploma as physician, he was appointed a surgeon in the First Tennessee Infantry. One bright spring morning he started on his rounds of professional duty. In the exuberance of health, youth and spirits, he sprang upon the horse of a brother officer. He had gone but a short distance when the high-mettled creature reared upon it's hind feet suddenly; the young man was thrown backwards, and falling upon the frozen earth, was instantly killed. The concussion fractured his skull. Mrs! Johnson has grieved for this son, as did Jacob for his beloved Joseph, and not only the mother, but the whole family have mourned with unnsnal poignancy his untimely death. Robert Johnson, the eldest living son, enteied [ the army as a volunteer while still a young boy; and was given a position among older men, on aooount of his father. It was at this time that he formed the fearful habit of intemperance. As soon as Mrs. Johnson was settled at the White House, she sent for this son, hoping that his responsible position as private secretary to the President, and '! - 1 --a -C i.:_ loe pereunai uiuueuix? ui uu meter ouu nu^u, could reclaim him; but alas! she found his new position, in its surroundings, a still heavier deathweight to her hopes. Clever, genial "Bob," the young man who had the ear of the President at any time, was everybody's friend. A crowd followed him wherever he went The choicest viands of Willard's and Welcker's were set before him, and miniature rivers were made to float with wine. Robert Johnson is now in an asylum, hoping and trying to overcome this vice. During the few months of his sojourn in Washington he provoked no enmity, and left many true personal friends. Andrew Johnson, jr., the youngest child, who makes the fourth and last of Mrs. Johnson's children, is a boy of fifteen, attending tbe college for young boys in Georgetown, D. C. He is a slender, finely-formed youth, characterized by the same modest deportment usual to the family. Wash. Cor. N. Y. Evening Post. THE SIAMESE TWINS. The London Times has the following interesting facts concerning the Siamese twins: The return to this country of the Siamese twins, thirty-eight years after theirfirat appearance here, has naturally excited a good deal of interest and curiosity, both among men of science and the general public. The rumor that preceded them, to the effect that the bond of their long union might, perhaps, be shortly severed, has added much to this feeling, and has given occasion to some very unnecessary sensational writing upon the subject. For this reason, and also because some of the popular notions about twins have been even aggravated with regard to them, we think it desirable to place before our readers a short account of the facts in the case. Chang and Eng, the Siamese twins, were born in May, 1811, so that they are not quite fifty-eight years old.' They are of short stature. Eng, the taller of the two, being five feet two and a half inches high, and Chang about an inch shorter. They have had excellent health throughout life, and possess good muscular development The band that supports then: sprang originally from the breast bone, and kept them face to face; but their efforts, during childhood, to obtain a more comfortable position, produced some bending of tbe yielding structure concerned, so that they can now ' ' --i -1 IJ J. stand nearly, dui noc quite, auouiuer w suuuiuci, in which position they usually cross their adjacent arms behind each other's back. When necessary, as at meals, they can bring both arms forward without inconvenience. The band itself is about four inches in length. It is rather more than seven inches in circumference in the centre, and more than three inches deep with its junction with each body. It is, unfortunately, too thick to be under any circumstances translucent; all attempts to see by means of the lime or magnesium light the nature of the contained structures have ended in failure. As far as can be estimated by the touch, the band contains, at the upper part, the cartilages of two breast bones curved around and meeting at its centre, and united by a sort of imperfect joint. To these cartilages are added those of some adjacent ribs, probably the seventh and eighth. At the lower part, it is quite certain that the general cavity of the abdomen of each brother enters the band; but whether these cavities communicate in the centre can not be ascertained with oertainty. The nerves of each brother pass a little beyond the middle of the band, so that a touch is felt by both over a oentral portion about an inch wide; but beyond that portion only by the brother that is touched. The blood vessels of each must in like manner communicate, but there is nothing like interchange of blood between the two, and some experiments have been made which show that chemical agents introduced into one body have no appreciable effect upon the other. The hearts of the two brothers are perfectly distinct, and even somewhat unlike ; the pulses of the two at the time of our inspection were a little different in frequency, and decidedly so in character. On various occasions they have been extremely different. The respiration of the twins is wholly independent of each other. It may, therefore, be said broadly that there is no more intimate union between Chang and Eng than such as might be effected artificially between any two persons. They are in every respect two men, with the misfortune of the connecting band. Their mental operations are entirely distinct, of which we can, perhaps, give no better illustration than by saying, that when playing obese against an adversary, they consult one another about the next move. Their original resemblanoe, the necessities of their position, and the fact that their experience must have been absolutely identical throughout life, having combined to bring them into an extraordinary degree of concord in thought and action, but into no greater degree than may be thus perfectly accounted for. The very question about their separation, of itself, declares their perfect separateness. It appears to have arisen entirely from the conflicting claims of the respective families, and to be contemplated only as a sacrifice of the fraternal bond to the interest of children. Most probably, however, the idea will not be carried into execution. The surgeons who have as yet been consulted are decidedly opposed to it, and think the danger too great tq incurred for the sake of the doubtful benefit The connection between their respective blood vessels is such that they must necessarily have any blood disease in common; and it is probable that the last illness of one, from physical as well as moral causes, would be the last illness also of the other. The separation would present no surgical difficulty, and might be accomplished at any time, if the accidental illness or death of the one In-other might require it But, putting aocidents aside, and dealing with constitutional causes, it is most probable that the brothers, loving in their lives, in death will not be divided. It has plainly been their study, and has become their second nature, to act in harmony with each other in all things. They move as if by one impulse, and without verbal communication, and it is said, indeed, that ,they rarely talk to each other. Bat each would feel the other's impulse to move before a by-stander could detect it They take pleasure in rowing, shooting, fishing and sports that they can pursue in couoorcL They take do pleasure in sports that would place them in opposition?as in playing games of chance or skill against each other, although perfectly capable of playing such if they cared for them. Wo need only add that they appear to be very oourteous aud intelligent gentlemeu, and we ore informed that during their long lives in North Carolina they have earned the respect and esteem of their neighbors alike in their business connections and in their private lives. They were slaveholders, enthusiastic Southerners, frtid lost largely by the collapse of the South. We trust their visit to Europe may in some degree repair their shattered fortunes, and may afford them the means of returning in tranquillity to tboir former mode of life. PREMATURE INTERMENTS. . The following facts, showing the numerous instances in which persons have been buried alive, are collected from medical history: At Toulouse, France, a lady having been buried in the church of the Capuchin Friars, with a diamond ring on her finger, a servant entered the vault to steal the ring; and, as the finger was swelled, and the ring would not oome off, he began cutting the finger. On hearing a loud shriek from the deceased the thief fell senseless. At the time of morning prayers the monks having heard some groans, found the lady alive, and the servant dead. Thus death had his prey; there was but a change of victims. At the close of the lost century a woman in Paris was thought to be dead, and the body was put on some straw with a taper at the feet. Some young men who sat up with the oorpse, in a frolic, overturned the taper. This set the straw on fire. The deceased, whose body the flames now reached, uttered a piercing shriek. Timely assistance was rendered, and she so well recovered that after her resurrection she became the mother of several children. A street-porter in Paris having died at the Hotel-Dieu, was carried with the other dead into tho same vault Recovering his senses toward eleven at night, he tore open his winding sheet, made his way to his house, knocked at his door, which was not opened to him without some difficulty, and took new possession of his lodgings. The mistake of the sexton was thus discovered. On the 21st of November, 1763, the Abbe Prevot, well known for his literary productions, was taken with an apoplectic fit as he was traveling through the forests of Chantilly. Being supposed dead, he was carried to the house of the mayor of the village, and the magistrate directed a postmortem examination to bo commenced. A piercing shriek uttered by the unfortunate man proved that he was alive. He expired under the scalpel. Dr. Deveux, a surgeon of St Come Hospital, t> i -i -J 1 JTAnSj naua msiU) u ucrvauij wuu Iiou uucu uiuu^uv three times for burial. She did not recover her senses the last timo till they were lowering her ooffin into the grave. That woman, haying died anew, the body was kept six days, lest they should have to bring her back a fourth time. A Mr. Rosseau, of Rouen, had married a lady of fourteen, whom he left in perfect health, after starting on a short journey. After a few days, he heard that unless he returned immediately, he would find his wife buried. On reaching home, he saw the funeral ready. In an agony of grief he had the coffin removed to his room and unscrewed. He placed the body on a bed, and ordered twentyfive incisions to be made on it i > the twentyfifth, probably deeper than the others, the deceased exclaimed, "How severely you hurt me 1" Medical assistance was immediately given. The lady had afterwards seven children. The wife of Mr. Duhamel, a celebrated lawyer, of Lyons, France, having been supposed dead for twenty-four hours, the body was placed on the table for the purpose of preparing it for burial. Her husband strongly opposed it, not believing her dead. To ascertain it, knowing she was very fond of the cymbal, and the tunes which cymbal-players sing, he called one. On hearing the instrument and the voice, the deceased recovered motion and speech. She survived her apparent death forty years. Andre Vesaile, physician to Charles V, and Philip II, after attending a Spanish grandee, thought him dead. Having obtained leave to examine the body, he had scarcely opened the chest when he perceived that the heart palpitated. The relatives of the deceased prosecuted him as guilty of murder?the Inquisitor as guilty of profanenesa. Through the intercession of the King he was sent on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and thus escaped death. Id the sitting of the Koyal Academy of Medicine in France, 1827, a paper was read by Mr. Chaunoey Chantonrneil on the danger of hasty inhumations. This led to a discussion in which Mr. Desgenelle said that he had heard from Mr. Thourot, who had superintended the remains of the oemelciy and charnel-house Des Innocens, that many skeletons were found in positions showing that the individuals had moved in their coffins. Mr. Thourot was so much struck with the revelation that he caused a clause to be inserted in his will respecting his own interment. A couple of drummers besieged an old lady in Canton, Illinois, to buy a patent churn from them. She said it was a humbug, and they offered to make the butter come in ten minutes. So she filled the maohino with butter milk, and they tugged at the crank for two hours before they discovered the unctuous practical joke. A WESTERN DROVER'S STORY. My name is Anthony Hunt. I am a drover, and I live miles and miles atray upon the Western prairie. There wasn't a home within sight when we moved there, my wife and I, and now we havn't i many neighbors, though those we have are good I ones. f One day, about ten years ago, I went away from | home to sell some fifty head of cattle?fine eras- j tures as I ever saw. I was to buy some groceries ] and dry goods before I came baek, and, above all, < a doll for our youngest Dolly; she had never had a i store doll of her own, only the rag babies her moth- i er had made her. ( Dolly could talk of nothing else, and went down < to the very gate to call after me to "buy a big one." ( Nobody but a parent can understand how full my < mind waa of that toy, and how, when the cattle i were sold, the first thing, I harried off to buy Dol- i ly's dolL I found a large one, with eyes that would . open and shut when you pulled a wire, and had it ( wmnnpH nn in ruirvr and tuoJtfld it under mv arm. ( while I had the parcels of calico and delaine and < tea and sugar put up. Then, late as it was, I start- i ed for home. It might hare been more prudent to ] stay until mornifig, but I felt anxious to get back, > and eager to hear Dolly's prattle about her doll, i I was mounted on a steady-going old horse of ' mine, and pretty well loaded. Night set in before ' I was a mile from town, and settled down dark as pitch while I was in the middle of the wildest hit ofroadlkoowof. I pould have felt my way through, 1 I remembered it so well, andit was almost like feel- * ing it when the storm that had been brewing broke, < and the rain pelted in torrents; fire miles, or may- ] be six, from home yet, too. 1 I rode on as fast as I could, but all ofasuddenl 1 heard a little cry like a ohild's voice! I stopped < short and listened?I heard it again. I called, and < it answered me. I couldn't Bee a thing; all was-1 dark as pitch. I got down and felt about in the 1 grass?called again, and again was answered. Then i I began to wonder. I'm not tim|d, but I was i known to be a drover and to have money about me. 1 It might be a trap to catch me unawares and rob 1 and murder me. i I am not superstitious?not very; but how could t a real child be out in the prairie in suioh a night, < at such an hour? It might be more than human. < The hit of a ooward that hides itself in most men < showed itself to me then, and I was half inclined 1 to run away, but once more I heard that cry, and 1 said I: ( "If any man's child is hereabouts, Anthony Hunt is not the man to let it die." I searched again. At last I bethought me of a hollow under the hill, and groped that way. Sure J enough, I found a little dripping thing that moan- * ed and sobbed as I took it in my arms. I called ^ my horse, and the beast came to me, and I mount- c ed, and. tucked the little soaked thing under my .. coat as well as i could, promising to take it borne 1 to mammy. It seemed tired to death, and pretty * soon cried itself to sleep against my bosom. 1 It had slept there over an hoot when I saw my c own windows. There were lights m them, and I J supposed my wife had lit them for my sake; but ? when I got into the door-yard I saw something was * the matter, and stood still with a dead fear of heart : five minutes before I could lift the latoh. At last I did it, and saw the room full of neighbors, and my wife amidst them weeping. * When she saw me she hid her face. "Oh, don't ( cell him," she said; "it will kill him." "What is it neighbors ?" I cried. 1 And one said, "Nothing now, I hope. What's that in yonr arms?" "A poor, lost child," said L "I found it on the road. Take it, will you, I've turned feint," and I " lifted the sleeping thing and saw the face of my own child, my little Dolly. It was ray darling, and none other, that I had . picked op upon the drenched road. My little child had wandered out to meet "dad- , dy" and the doll, while her mother was at work, and whom they were lamenting as one dead. I r thanked Heaven on my knees before them all. It is not much of a story, neighbors, but I think of it often in the nights, and wonder how I could bear to live now if I bad not stopped when I heard the cry for help upon the road?the little baby cry, hardly loader than a squirrel's chirp. That's Dolly yonder with her mother in the mea- \ dow, a girl worth saving?I think (bat then I'm j her father, and partial, may-be) the prettiest and sweetest thing this ride of the Mississippi. , LEADER OF THE CUBAN REVOLUTION. t Carlos Manuel Cespedee was born abont forty-five years ago, in the town of Bayamo, Cuba. The first j twelve years of his life were spent with his parents who resided on a plantation in the vicinity. With { them he only learned the first rudiments of reading, writing and arithmetic, while at the same time be indulged in those hardy employments and j healthgiving games, which are consequent to a life in a country naturally monntainous and full of forests. His family having moved when he was twelve years of age, to the town of Bayamo, Carlos Manuel was sent there to school for the first time. A few days afler the commencement of his studies there he gave proof of extraordinary mental activity and intellectual talents, leaving behind him the most advanced scholars in the school, and being reoognized by them as the head of the institution. When eighteen years of age he went to Havana with the object of prosecuting his studies there for the law profession. His great intellectuality was further developed there, at the same time that numerous personal affairs gave him an opportunity to show his active, courageous and tenacious disposition, giving an indication that he would be as ' 'great in war as in peaca'' Graduating as attorney at law, in Europe where he went afterwards, and receiving the greatest university honors, he returned to Cubaand fixed his residence at Manzanillo. His powers of eloquence, his energy and his knowledge, soon made him the most popular man t in the vicinity, and entitled him to rank as the first k ? ' l -i?a. a T> i a !i. m lawyer in tnai pan or uiu country. joutuian traits a in his character, generosity rwirks an important d one and will give lustre to all his future actions, h The fortune which he inherited from his father, e the wealth which he- amassed by his industrious c exertions, and his future prospects of increasing it, b would have secured him a life full of ease and com- k fort; but his patriotic heart could not support longer the sight of his country in chains and the ^ victim to the outrages of the tyrannical Spanish k government Inspired by a heroic resolution, he P gives freedom to all his slaves, abandons his sugar b estates to the merciless fury of his Spanish foes, who burn them all in revenge, and sacrificing all on & the altar of liberty and independence, with the a noblest motives he inaugurates the revolution in v Cuba at the head of one hundred patriots?amove- ^ ment which now counts in its ranks the whole nat- Q ive population of the island. To the present he has 0 shown in all his acts the fullest energy, an untiring constancy, and the greatest moderation in the ex- ^ ercise of the discretionary power conferred on him a by the unanimons accord of all Cubans. When we 0 see men of this stamp, supported by all the natives of Cuba, and that they, without arms and amuni- r tion of any consideration, and by their unaided efforts, not only have been able to withstand the advance of the Spanish, but have repeatedly defeated * them and at last obtained possession of almost all n the land, then it becomes impossible for us to doubt 0 of the final triumph of liberty and the prevailing of American institutions in the "Gem of the Antilles." o THE LONDON STORES. Ad American oo his travels writes to tfce Boston Commercial Bulletin: The salesmen understand their business, which s to sefl goods; they are polite, they suggest wants; hey humor your merest whim in hue, pattern, jtyle or fancy; they make oo rude endeavor to font joods upon you, but are determined yon shall hate ust what yon want; wait upon you with assiduous politeness, and seem to have been taught their occupation. One misses that sort of independent nonchalance with which an American retail mle* uaa throws oat one article at a time, talking politics k of the weather tcyou while yon yourself turn Tver the goods, place them and adjust them for he effect of light or shade, as he indolently looks >a or persistently battles in argument with yon that vhat he has shown you is what you ought to hare stead of what you demand and want; also that American style of indifference or independence aa x> whether you purchase or not, and the making )f you (as you esoertaln after shopping in Loodoa) lo half the salesman's work. The London shopman wderstands that deference is the boat card in the pack, and plays it skilfully; be attends to you as* >iduoasly, he is untiring to suit your taste; if hg jells you a ribbon, the obaueea are that you find lafnM Lwvinff urtn 1mm nimJiMnJ olnfM. &n and kerchief beside, and it is not until yon finally take four departure that lie ventures to remark thai "it is a fine day," Many of the London fiat che? jstabliahments, such as tailors, furnishing goods lealers, umbrella stores, shoemakers, cheese-mongirs or fancy grocery stores, have, two stores?one n Regent-street, the fashionable quarter, and one n the city, say down towards the bonk in Thnad>eed!e-street, Poultry, Cheapside, Ac. The '*city" lown town store of the same firm, it a well known a Londoners, will sell the same goods and same irticles at least five per oeut. cheaper than the qp own Regent or Oxford-street one will, and riafly t does seem cheap, in oar day of depreciated cnr ency, to boy goods at the price one was able to in London. A prime custom-made overcoat fbr five xranda cash, adding thirty-five per cent, gold preninm and exchange, made it oost about thirtyleven dollars; price fbr the same article in American doth, in America, fifty dollars, and not sewed >r made so welL A prime pair of gentleman's Doogrsas boots, made to order, cost me in London cd dollars in currency {at a crack makers;)- in Boston a fashionable maker charges twenty fbr dm tame thing. . ? SELF-MADE MEN. The maxim that "every man is the arohiteot of lis own fortune," has been strikingly verified and ihutrated in the history of American statesmen. Phe following collection of facts respecting some >f our great men may prove interesting.: ^ Very few of the lathers of oar repabho were the nberitora of distinction. Washington was almost he only gentleman by right of birth inall that asonishing oompany of thinkers and actors. Two ir three Virginians, John Jay, of New York, and i half dozen meaner men from other provinces rere exceptions. Ben .BVahkHn was a printer's >oy; Sherman a shoemaker; Knox was a book)inder; Green a blacksmith; John Adams and Marshall tbe sons of poor farmers; and Haarikotf, he most subtile, fiery and electrical, bot at tit tame time the most composed and orderly getrin* >f all, excepting the nnapproachable ohief, was of is humble parentage as the rest, and himself at :be beginning, a clerk or shopkeeper. And if we tome down to a late period, BaoLei Webster was he eon of a country firmer, and was ressusd from he oocupatioo of a drover only by tbe shrewd ehtervation of Christopher Gore, whoa he called Up* >n for advioe in respect to a difficulty arising from he Bale of a pair of steers; and John C. Calhoun ras the son of a tanner and currier; the father of Henry Clay belonged to the poorer okas of Baptist ninifiters; Martin Van Bnren, daring the fitflti eisure of the day. gathered pine knots to fightftis svening studies; Thomas Corwin was a wagoner; Silas Wright, by heritage a machinist. In later imes we have had Lincoln of the fiat-boat; Johnion, the tailor; Grant, the tanner; Wilson, the ihoemaker's apprentice; and many others among >ur statesmen, who received the applause and rererenoe of mankind, passed their earlier years at rhat, in other countries, would be almost impasaa>le distance from the eminenow which they now enoy. All this is eooooraging to our aspiring young nen who would dare and do rather Chan lam on he reputation of their ancestor*. In the old moo archies the question is, "what is 'our pedigree, or who were your progenitors?" Here, in our republic, the question is, "what have rou done? what are you doing? at what do you dm?" To do, tngrow, to improve, and become ill that God intended us to, is our privilege, our ight and our duty. "God helps those who help hemaelves.' ' a son are Meal in Nevada.?A traveler to he White Pioe region in Nevida, thus portrays >ne's experiences: At one station the party halted for a square meal There was a tent, and in it. i huge kettle of coffee and a camp oven. After raiting a few minutes, the landlord came to the loor and snapped out, "Roomfor four." Our inormant went in with three other men, and they inelt around a flat box, which the hotel keeper had umed down on the ground. On the top were four >asins of strong coffee, and by each dirty tin was a lirty, black biscuit and an egg. The coffee and iggs were good, and the biscuits were good on the utside, that is, the eater had to choose between wo evils?dirt over the top crust, dough under it ?ach loaf was like a cream cake, perfectly soft inide. The hungry men tore off the crust and after 'lowing, scraping and rubbing it to remove the alnvial deposits, put it down with a gusto and toren ts of strong coffee. The inside masses of dough ?ere left by each man's basin. When the men tad finished their meal, and while they were yet ;neeling, the host pat his soot begriinmed and reasy hand over the box and spoke again: "Four oHars." He was paid. Plump went the silver a to his poachy pocket and pop went the four masss of dough back into the oven. As soon as a new rust was baked over them, eggs eooked and the asins refilled with coffee, four mere hungry men nelt down, ate off the crust, rejected the dough jr another baking, and paid their dollar each fbr he meal. It was calculated that one more stage >ad of customers would finish the biscuits and ufc the landlord to the trouble of kneading a new Btch. No Exk&cisk Equax to Lauqhtel?Nothing ota so directly upon the organs within, both chest nd abdomen. Ten hearty laughs, real shouts, fill do more to advance the general health and villi ty than an hour spent in the best altitudes and lotions, if done in a sober, solemn spirit Of onrse I know yon can't laugh.at will, so you must hy with the dog, play with your children, introuce a hundred games which involve competition nd fun. Open the folding doors, move book the entre table, and go it Flay with the dog, run )t the pins, play any of the games which you can ecall from your early experience. WtF An octogenarian says: "I was born at the rrongtime. When I was a young man, young len were of no account Now I am old, I find Id men are of no acoount" |&*The person who cannot keep his own secret ught not to oomplain if another teDs it