University of South Carolina Libraries
^w1 ' Hit fnkpmtol Jfamilg ftctospapr: Jfr %c' ^roroottcnt of % political, gothd, ^gritnllnral aiib (Etmnumal Interests of fa gouijj. j VOL. 15. YOEKVILLE, S. P., THURSDAY, ATJG-TJST 19, 1869. NO. 33 ftorg JOHN HAMILTON'S MODEL. It was a dreary day in March, seven years ago, this very spring. "Regular March weather, too," old Fanner Grey had said that morning, when he called at the blacksmith Bhop to ask John Hamil ton if "this here clevis was worth mendin'." "You see," he went on, "it's gettin' to be about ploughio'-time, and I alius like to be a lee tie ahead of the season. Miriam pretty well to-day ? I thought she looked kind o' peaked and down in the mouth, last Sunday." "She is as well as usual," said Jehn Hamilton, picking up the broken olevis; "at least, she has said nothing to the contrary." "Well," said Mr. Grey, laughing, "I'm alius looking out for breakers, so my old woman saysgo long, Fan?I'll call for that here clevis, to-raorrow, Mr. Hamilton, on my way home from town raeetin'." That afternoon, Miriam Hamilton dropped the little plaid frock she was mending, letting her Vonrta foil lutlasslo in. her Ian. while her foot rock ed the cradle mechaaioally. Her eyes sought the far horizon with a wistful, anxious gaze. Present' ly, she started, and listened intently, as the quiek, sharp ring of the hammer upon the anvil in the adjoining shop, half roused the sleeping baby. "Hush, hush, my darling!" she said soothingly. "It is only papa, busy in the shop." The ringing blows continued; but the baby concluded to finish its nap, while the mother's face brightened, as she listened to the "anvil chorus" with an inexplicable look upon heriaoe. Presently Rose and Tommy earae bounding in. "Oh, my son, look at your feet 1" oried Mra* Hamilton. "Bo but see the mod! Go and take off your boots directly." The boots were stiff and unyielding, the boot jack did not work well, and the tittle hoods and feet rebelled; so mamma, as mammas will, came to the resoue. "Why, your stockings are wet, child?where have you been? Wading in the creek ?" "No, ma'am.. I ha'nt been near the creek^-' . i- i-L!?p.n? said IDC siuray lou&tug iomw, am&iug uu mo verse boots. "I came straight home from school. But it's awful sploshy, and there's a .great hole in my boots. I've got to have 'em mended." "Mended with a new pair, I guess," answered his mother. "I am afraid these are past mend, ing. "And I must have some new trowsers, too," quoth Master Tommy. "See here! This last patch that yon put in has all torn out already; and Rose has horned her apron, and her dress is just as old! Why don't she have a new one? She ought to." Mrs. Hamilton stooped down and kissed the two eager, upturned faces with a quick, passionate impulse. But 6he only said : "We'll see, dear. But rock the cradle now. Rose, and keep Willie asleep while mamma gets supper." Supper was on the table?a most frugal meal, yet an attractive one?when John Hamilton came in from the shop. His face, which was somewhat pale and worn, wore to-night an eager, excited look. He caught up the crowing baby, treated Tommy to a ride on his shoulder, toyed with Rose's brown curls for a moment, and then, going round to the head of the table, where his wife was pouring tea, he kissed her once, twice, thrice, so tenderly that the tears sprang to her eyes. "Old Mr. Grey thinks you are not looking well. Is there anything the matter, Miriam? You are paler than usual this spring." "There is nothing the matter," she answered, smiling in his face; "I am not sick, John." "Not sick, perhaps ; but you look worn out and tired. Bet never mind. I am sure of succeeding with my drill this time, Miriam; and when I go to Washington to see about the patent, you must go with me. Margaretcan come and stay with the children. It will do you good.'' Miriam smiled faintly, and her husband went on: "I am on the right track this time, Miriam ; there's not a doubt about it. The little wheel has done the business, and. the whole thing wiH work like a charm. I have been at work at the model all day." ' , "All day! I thought you had something to do for Mr. Grey?" "For Mr. Grey? Oh, yes!?that clevis. Well the truth is, I sent it over to the other shop?Riley's you know. I had just got hold of a new idea, and I was so anxious to know what it was worth, that I could not stop to mend that clevis. I rather think I shall sell out, Miriam." "What ? sell the shop?" "Yes : Riley wants to buy me out, and he offers me a fair price. It seems really providential. I would rather sell outright than to borrow money and give a mortgage." "Borrow! I don't understand." "Why, don't you sec little woman ? This model that I am working upon now is but a pbor affair, a rough sketch, as one might say. It will cost four or'five hundred dollars to make a nice one?a real beauty?such as I would be willing to take to Washington." "So much !" sighed Miriam, in a sort of maze. She thought of the little frocks and boots, of the ? ' II _ A-.!! i._ J 1 I frugal meals, 01 toe endless ramiiy wains, iiiiu uci heart sank within her. But John laughecL "So much ! Why, what are four hundred dollars now, when we shall soon be rich, Miriam ? This invention is worth thousands of dollars, child. A cool hundred thousand at the very least. You see," he went on eagerly, "it now costs five dollars a foot to drill a five inch hole in solid lime-rock. My machine will do the same work in two hours at one-fifth of the cost. The inventor of a good reliable rock drill, that will doits work expeditiously and economically, that is manageable and will not get out of order, will make his mark and his fortune. And John Hamilton, blacksmith, is the man, Miriam, whether you believe it or not." Miriam always felt an undefinable sensation of pain when her husband's eyes flashed as they flashed to-night?a strange, sickening dread, not so much of disappointment and failure, in themselves considered, as of their effect upon him. She rose from the table now, and, going round to where he sat, she pressed her cool hands upon his throbbing temples. "But are you quite sure you have succeeded, J - 9 Mow vmi not be mistaken, as you UCOi WVUU * ? - were before?" "Yes, I am sore this time. It is a clear case? as clear as day-light. I failed before simply because I overlooked the importance of that little wheel. T am just feeling my way still, but the principle is all right. It will be smooth sailing soon." Up spoke Master Tommy, with eyes full of wonder : "Oh, are you going a sailing papa?a sailing in a boat? and may I go, and Rose, and mamma?" John Hamilton caught his boy to his breast. "Yes, my son, you shall go a sailing with me. God grant that your boat may be launched on smoother seas than mine has been ! It is for you and the children that I am working, Miriam, far more than for myself," he added, turning to his wife, and drawing her to a seat beside him. Should she speak out the thought that was in her heart? Should she tell him that they had been far happier before this invention, tb&t was to do such great things for them, had -ever been thought of; happier and more comfortable, when the day brought cheerful, honest, well-paid labor, and the night untroubled rest; happier, when John complained that the shop was loo email for himself and his two journeymen, when, for miles and miles around, the farmers brought their work thither, and when the forge glowed hotly, and the anvil rang from sunrise to sunset ? Should she tell him that this rastless, eager anxiety was-wearing upon him ; that his temper had lost -Miuoh of its sunny sweetness?indeed, had grown moody and irritable ? Should sho betray to him her own deadly fear that he was losing the substance while grasping at a shadow? No. She was .not "strong-minded" euough to tell him this. John must be right, after all. If she should persuade him to give up trying to perfect his machine, and he should be forced te go on toiling all his dajs for a comparative pittance, how could she ever forgive hersdf ? So the model grew; and meanwhile the Kttle boots wore out, and the little frocks faded and grew shabby, and the pantaloons were patched over and over again. The flour-barrek eked out by all pos-; sible oontrivanoes, was empty at last, and a "quarter sack" was gotten in its place. Tea was bought by the ounce, and castards and puddings were unheard of luxuries. Miriam wore hor-old bonnet to church, and John stayed at home. His? clothes were too threadbare, or he was too proud. Which was it.-? At all events ho stayed away from the sanctuary all summer, missing sadly?ah! how sadly!?the rest, the strength, the ielp, that he had half unoonsciously found there hitherto. For John Hamilton was not a "professor;" he had gone to church from habit, beoausethe singing was good, and-because he diked to meet the neighbors coming and goine, and at noon-timo. Now he felt that he had met God there also, and that his soul was starving for kick of its wonted food. But still he stayed -away. * "The shop, with all its fixtures, wae- sold to' Riley ; and pretty soon the little hottee Went also. It was not quite pleasant, notwithstanding' John'-S firm conviction that he was engaged in an enterprise that would be worth more to him than all the blacksmiths1 shops In the country?to -hear Riley's loud, cheery voice urging en his men all day long; -to listen to the steady blows-upon t&e mil; to see how the "forge glowed with the red heat; to watch the farmers comiDg and 'going; and to feel that he had neither part nor lot in the matter. So the little home, where they had lived through all the years of their early married life, was sold. They rented a cottage at the other end of the village, and tried to think theywere quite oontent. Bat it was not really home after all. They missed conveniences that were not trausj^rable? conveniences that, if one's means are limited, can only grow up around one by slow accretion. Miriam sighed for the fittle garden, with its bed of mignonette and sweet peas and" verbenas. When she went by the house on her way to church, the breath of the honeysuokle turned -her siok with a faint longing. The little back "kitohen was converted into a workshop. That was one comfort; for when the door stood open between her domain and his, she could see her husband at work upon his model. But his moods were very variable now-a-days. Sometimes for weeks together the door would be dosed all the rime, and a stillness, like that of death, would reign behind it. When she could bear it no longer, she would steal softly out of tloors, and peep in at the window. She always saw the same thing?a dark, pall-like cloth hung over the model, and a man seated at his bench, his elbows resting upon it, and his head supported by the two hands that were half buried in his dark, disordered hair. Before him lay plans and charts, and columns of figures, and over 'which he was brooding; and by his side a heap of screws and wheels, and odd bits of brass and iron. At such times she knew that he was utterly disheartened. But she could express no wifely sympathy. The subject of the invention was tabooed. Then again, when there was a rift in the clouds, and a ray of sunlight darted through, who so gay, so jubilant as be! Then he dreamed dreams and saw visions; then he built castles in Spain of fabulous beauty and extent; then be planned pleasure trips without number?to Niagara, to the prairies, to Europe, to the moon; then he saw Miriam?no longer the household drudge, the maid-ofall-wofk?clad in fair raiment, and adorned with jewels; then he talked of Tommy and Rose, until a certain little pony became to their imagination a living, breathing reality. They knew the very color of his mane, and counted the spots upon his glossy sides. At sueh times it was well that Miriam held the purse. What was one dollar or even ten. The model was completed at last?a beautiful piece of workmanship, shining with brass and silver plate. But, fair and innocent as it looked it had been a most voracious monster. It had eaten up two thirds of the shop, and swallowed the home where Miriam had been so blest. She was not naturally as sanguine as her husband. Yet even she was happy and elated now. How could it be otherwise ? Their little house was thronged from morning till night. Farmers and mechanics, and doctors aud lawyers, und ministers came to see and admire John Hamilton's rockdrill. It was such a wonder! So simple, and yet so powerful; so new, and yet so easily comprehended. "Your husband's fortune is made, madam," said Squire Phelps, leaning upon his gold*headed cane. "It is a great discovery?a great invention. It will revolutionize the marble business." So said they all; and John Hamilton grew a full inch taller as he listened and explained. He was to go to Washington soon; and Miriam's needle was very busy. John had been a gentleman always, in spite of his hard, brown hands? fine, stalwart, manly fellow that he was, with a heart full of all noble and chivalrous impulses, and as tender as a woman's. His little wife had known this as long as she had known him. ? But now, if he was going to Washington, among all the grand j people there?Congressmen, and Senators, and diplomats?he must look the gentleman, as well as be one. Perhaps he might even see Mr. Lincoln himself?who knew. She was not going with him, as had been proposed so long ago. They were rich in prospect it is true. But just at present their ftmdswere getting low, and, on the whole, Miriam would wait. At length the precious model was boxed, the valise was pucked, and well armed with documents of one sort and another, John started for the goal of his dreams. Miriam stood in the doorway with the baby, now a ruddy, active little fellow of eighteen months, in her arms, watching him as he walked lightly down the winding road toward the station. There would be no finer face or figure, ne nobler looking man in all Washington, she thought with a gush of wifely pride. As he reached the turn, he kissed his hand to her and the baby, caught off his cap, and, afler swinging it three times around his head, replaced it with a bow, ahd vanished from her sight. At Washington!? busy, crowded, jostling, anxious Washington ! where every one had an axe to grind; where each man was plotting for the success of his own schemes, mighty or petty, as the case might be. And, as a rule, the pettier the interest involved, the more eager and obtrusive was the scheming. John stopped at Wilkrd's at first; but after a 'week's sojourn, during whioh he had accomplished nothing beyond the sight-of his Congressman and the placing of a letter of introduction m his handfe, ho concluded that four dollars and a half n day was more than he could afford to pay for board and lodging. After search; ing ft day or two, He succeeded in finding accommodations at a lower rate, but still frightfully disproportfoned to his limited means. Then came long days and weeks of waiting. John knew but little of the ways of the world m whioh ho was now moving, amf he had no influential friends te help him. Even the Hon. Mr. Somebody, Congressman and ehairman of the committee on something, who was a great man at home, was, lie fouDd, a person of no great importance in Washington; u solitary instance where the prophet Is of more hofcor in his own country than out of k. Officials at the Patent Office were busy, and infinitely unapproachable. There were hindrances dnd procrastinations, obstacles he had never dreamed of, delays that almost maddened him. His funds were exhausted, and h? wrote to Miriam to send him one hundred dollars more. The Wf ap wt.ir df>Rnnnrbmt in the axtreme: "They tell me it is all-important that I should .remain here until the model falls into the hands of the examiners?if it ever does?otherwise I should go home at onee, for I am getting worn out with all this delay. Oh, my wife, I long for the sight of your dear face again?for the touch ofyour cool hand upon my forehead! But, send me more money, Miriam, for I must not give it up yet. If this is lost, all is lost.'' Miriam knew just how John's pulse had throbbed when he wrote that letter. She saw the very quiver of his lip, the dark, troubled look in the eyes that were once so sunny. As for her, she lived upon nothing, as it were, saving every penny that could be earned, that, when John did come home, neither purse "nor larder should be quite empty. The days wore on. The hundred dollars had gone, and another hundred had followed after. Miriam urged him, at lost, to return. "Come boure, John," she wrote. "Leave the model in safe keeping, and wait for brighter days. Wait till this cruel war is over, -and then; doubtless, you can press your claims with a better chance of success." John went to the Patent Office that morning, resolved to make one more attempt to bring matters to a crisis. If unsuccessftll this time, he would take Mariam's advice and wait for some more convenient season. . As usual, there was a group of interested and admiring observers gathered about the model. John paused a moment to glance at the delight of his eyes, and to listen, with a slight smile upon his thin, careworn face, to the comments that flew from Hp to Hp. Prominent in the group, and chief speaker, was an old gentleman with white, flowing hair, and a patriarchal aspect "Yes, it is a beautiful model," he said./'exquisitely floished, and perfect in all its parta The noor fellow who made it threw his whole heart in to the finishing of every wheel, spring, and axle." "Why do you say poor follow?" asked a bystander. "I can't understand why the man who made that," and he pointed to the model, "should be pitied, I must confess." "Because he'll never get a patent on it," responded the old gentleman'; "and it's a pity, too, after all the trouble he's been at." "Not get a patent! Why not?" asked one and another. "Follow me, and I'll show you," answered the first speaker; and he led the way down the large apartment into an adjoining room. John followed like one in a dream. "There!" said the old gentleman, pausing before a great, clumsy model, apparently very unlike John's. "There! I was in the Patent Office myself in '56, and we patented that thing. 'Tisn't as handsome as the other, by a long shot. But, you see, the principle is tho very same." So saying, he touched a wheel here and a spring there, tightened this band and that screw, and, with a convulsive shudder, the cumbrous thing heaved and groaned and set itself hi motion. John watched it with eyes that seemed starting from their sockets. With hands that purpled under the nails, he caught hold of a pillar near by, while his heart throbbed so tumultuously that he must have fallen, had it not been for the support against which he leaned. He stood there five minutes perhaps, motionless, speeohless, but with eyeB that saw everything?every wheel and band and axle, "You see it is the very same thing," repeated the old man, turning to the interested group. "It is a rough affair, and not at all like the other in form. But it is the same principlo for all that; and it is the principle, or the application of it, that gets patented, and not the style or the workmanship. Upon my soul, though, I am sorry for th'c other fellow." With a stifled groan, John let go his hold, and staggered out of the room, down through the long hall, out'into the open air. Out into the open air! There was a band drawn finrlafltT nVtiMif hid frivnlmn/l ffiom tUflQ Q QfrflTlOrA Li^UtlJ Ui/V/UV UIO 1U1VUVUU , V&0WAXS IIWU M MV4MUQV 1 ringing in his ears, and his neokobth seemed to choke him. Sitting down on a box that happened 1 to be standing on the sidewalk near by, he tore off his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt-collar. The ' passers-by stared at him, but he heeded them not. His thoughts wore far away in that little town among the mountains, with Miriam and the children. For the moment he had forgotten model and patent. He was conscious only of an intense longing for home and rest, for Miriam's touch, for Miriam's care. If he could only lie down in the little, oool, darkened bedroom at home, and, while the sweet breath of the clover- field 9toJe in at the window, hear her voice orooning low lullabies to the baby on her breast. But, ere long, like an overwhelming flood, the tide of thought and memory swept over him again, He knew that all was lost. The peculiar movement of his machine, the application of the motive ' power, to perfect which he had labored for years, and for which he had sacrificed so much?which he had thought would be of such immense value, not only to himself, but to the world, was no new thing, after all. It had not only been invented, but patented years ago. He laughed a low, strange, mirthloss laugh, sitting there upon the box, with the hot sun of June streaming down-upon his uncovered head. He had laid such vast plans; he had built such air castles, grand, magnificent, their turrets and towers standi ing out in bold relief against the blue sky of his imn/irlwn^An IJa ?wia fa kn o rink tnori?.<) rrrnnf IUJU?IUU1/1U11). lit VTttD VU Vis ? *IVIl t* gjiv/wv man, perhaps?and he had felt within him the stirrings of a noble ambition. He had longed to s "make his mark"?longed for the recognition that i comes with success, and that so seldom comes withi out it But now he was only John Hamilton, , blacksmith, after all! ! Only John Hamilton, blacksmith, after all! He was hardly that, even. Shop and forge, ani vil and hammer, were gone. Yes, and home also. He had nothing wherewith to commence life again but his own two hands; and had they not lost much of their wonted cunning? i Ho took out his pencil, and made some calculations on the back of Miriam's last letter. And i still the sun beat down upon his head; still there i was that dreadful ringing in his ears; still the tight : band was drawn about his forehead. A policeman came along and touched him lightly on the shoulder. 1 "Move on, my friend, move on," he said, "you 1 are obstructing the wayand as John rose heav- I ily to his feet, he shoved the box closer to the 1 wall, and passed on. e What if he should die! What would become f Of Miriam and the children ? How could his wife, a frail, delicate woman, wrestle alone with the d?- 1 mon Want?houseless, homeless, penniless ? ? "Oh, my God !" he exclaimed, reeling against s a lamp post, as, at the same time, a sharp pain phot through his temples, and a pang through his * heart. ' , He wandered on?how long he knew not?up one street and down another. Gradually the tumult in his brain subsided, and, as his body be- 8 came excessively fatigued, he ceased to think, or even to dream. He gazed about him with eyes that saw not, receiving no impression from surrounding objects. Then sinking down upon a bench beneath an awning, he leaned his head wearily against the wall behind him, and fell asleep. Soon he awoke with a start, as a troop of cavalrymen went clattering down the street, their horses' hoofs throwing up clouds of dust, and their sabres shining, in the sun. A sign on the baildmg opposite was the first thing that attraoted his attention when he opened his eyes?"Life Insurance/' indent, gilded letters. Pretty soon he rose up. "It is all I can do for them," he said softly. Not far off, in the window of a furniture warehouse, he remembered having seen an immense mirror. Thither lie went, with slow and toilsome steps, and took a deliberate survey of himself. Pale, wild-eyed, with disordered hair, and apparel covered with the dust of the street. "They will never insure my life over there," he thought, nodding toward the insurance building, "if I go to them in this plight I must go home first, and make myself presentable." He went back to his lodging house, re-arranged his dress with scrupulous care, and took some "refreshment. Then, with strength- somewhat renewed, he retraced his steps toward the insurance offioe. He had just money enough left for a policy. How should he pay his passage home to Miriam and the children? - .y This question occurred to him as he walked slowly down the street. But there was a halt'in- 1 sana glitter in his eyes as he said to himself, With a nod of the head, "I'll leave all that to Providence. 1 guess Be'11 manage it, somehow." But few questions were asked of the quiet, gentlemanly-looking person who presented himself at the office a few moments afterward. Those few he answered, clearly and conoisely. He looked pale and.carerworn, it is true. But his form was robust -and stately; and such hot weather, and such news from the army, were enough to give pallor to any oheek. The papers were made out, and he put them in his pocket-book. As he reached the. door he turned to ask-one more queation, seemingly an after-thought, still holding the knob in his hand. "Does this company pay losses in case of suicide?" he asked, in a low and constrained voice. The young man at the desk cast one quick, startled glance at the questioner's face. But it was still and imperturbable, and he answered: "Yes, sir, always. We think suicide the result of insanity, and insanity a disease. Our company pays all such losses at once." Mr. Hamilton bowed and went out. It was four o'clock now; hot, dry; and dusty. As John wandered on, Whjther or wherefore he neither knew nor cared, not a single cloud shaded 1 the sky, or subdued the dazzling brightness of the sun. Oh, for thexsool rustling of the maple leaves at home ! Oh, for a drink from the spring down in the meadow! Oh, for the rest from this strange fever that was urging him onward!. ' Once he found himself at the wharf, peering over into the yellow waters of the Potomac. It was cool and dark down thero?and still. If only the ploughing of the steamers, and the shrill shriek of the whistles, would not disturb one's repose. But i would the sound reach so low? Who could tell? He turned away and went on, on, now pausing before a drug-shop?now gazing in at a window brilliant with burnished weapons and glittering steel. . " Half insane?wild with fever and longing and despair?was John Hamilton contemplating the sin of self-destruction. Was some tempting spirit 1 whispering in his ear that so he might save his be- . loved from want?that so he might secure to them the modest competence of which his folly?for such he deemed it?had robbed them ? We know not; we shall never know. At nightfall he wont back to his lodging-house, ( and went supperless to bed. More than once that j night the occupants of the same floor wero halfaroused from their slumborsby sudden shouts, dis- j cordant cries, and muffled moans. They turned ( restlessly in their beds, wished the street brawlers ] would be quiet, and went to sleep again. j The next morning, John Hamilton did not appear at the breakfast table, and, toward noon, the chambermaid reported that his door was bolted, , .and that he would not reply to her knocks. They ( waited as long they dared, and then the door was ( broken open. ( A white, ghastly face lay upon the pillow, the , great brown eyes rolling wildly. lie was writhing , in the fiorco clutchos of brain fbvor. ' , Tho good Samaritans are not all dead yet. Even the Priest and the Levite do not always pass by on the otlier side. For a week in that strange city, 1 strange hands ministered to John Hamilton's ] needs, and strange eyes, soft with beautiful compassion, watched beside his bed. At the end of 1 that time, his lips, that had been closely sealed, 1 were opened, and his disjointed ravings revealed, 1 at least a part of his pitiful story to those who ; nursed him. He began to call incessantly for Mir- l iaui; and, coupled with her name, were vague al- ' lusions to a white-haired "old man who had pro- ' nounced his doom. He raved of his patent, of his model, of his shop. He begged piteously that he might be allowed to go to work, for Miriam and . the children were starving. . The ease excited much interest in the obscure boarding-house where he had found shelter, and was a frequent subject of conversation among the inmates. One day a dignified old gentleman?a j transient guest?dined at the house with a friend. He listened intently to all that was said, falling at r last into a brown study, When he arose from the table, he said to the hostess: ' "Madam, I beg to see this patient of yours, j John Hamilton, if I mistake not, is the name of the maker of a beautiful piece of mechanism now at the Patent Office. He talks, you say, of a | white-haired old mau ? Poor fellow! Poor fellow! , I must see him, if you will allow it. j He was shown at once to the darkened room. ( John screamed when he saw him, caught his hand in a convulsive clasp, and then went off in incoherent ravings, to which the old gentleman harkened J eagerly. Presently, however, he slipped out of 1 the room, beckoning to the hostess. 1 "It is as I thought," he said, brushing away a 1 tear. "I have seen this young fellow about the < Patent Office several times since I have been in 1 town. My name is Blanchard. If ere are one ? hundred dollars. I want you to send for his wife 1 at once. Some words of mine, unwittingly spoken < in his presence, have crazed his brain and well i nigh broken his heart. I am stopping at Willard's. ' Let everything be done to save him, and hold me 1 responsible for the payment of all bills." I' In a week, Miriam Hamilton was by her hus)and's side. He recognized her, not with his )rain, but with his heart. Her very presence wrought rest and peaoe to the weary sufferer, that night, with his hand clasped in hers, he slept mch a calm, untroubled sleep as he had not known 'or weeks. From that moment his convalescence was rapid ip to a certain point?the point where thought ind the interests of every day life resumed their i^ray. There he halted. Mr. Blanchard's kindness had been unfailing. 3ne day, Miriam sent for him. {CT mnaf fnlro mn lmaVian/l Krtmn " uVia cfiirl J. IUUDU WAV Ul J U UOIJUUU UUUiV) Ot?V, UUIUi 'He will never get well here." "Yea. It is best to get him out of the city us oon as he is strong enough, was the answer. But iheer up, ray child. You arc looking desponlent to-day." "The heavy debt we are incurring weighs upon ny mind, as well as upon John's," said Miriam. 'The sooner we get home the better." "But what will you do when you get there? tfrs. Hamilton, if your husband is strong enough o worry about business, he is well enough to talk ibout it. Tako me toJiim., if you please." John sat in a great easy .ohair, looking out of the vindow with a wistful, far-off gazo. But, as the ild gentleman entered, he reached out his hand vith an eager, impulsive gesture. "You have been so good to us, Mr. Blanchard," le said, falteringly; "we can never repay you." "Yes, you can," said his companion, heartily, 'and that's the very tiling I have come to talk ibout. I. need you, I want you to luirry up about his getting well. No?don't speak one word unil I have had my sijy. I am getting to be an old nan, and I need just such a clever, earnest, enhusiastic machinist as you are, about ray iron vorks. I have bepn looking for such a one for a rear, and. I believe Providence directed me to you. [ will make you foreman, if you say the word, vith a salary of three thousand dollars a year." There was a golden silence in the room?a sience more eloquent than silver spepcli. At last, Iropping on her knees by her husband's side, Mirara Hamilton whispered: "Sorrow endureth for a pigbt, but joy cometh vith the moming.' John, let us thank God." Mr. Blanchard stole softly away, leaving the wain to their newly found joy. ******* * John had been the efficient and enthusiastic breraan of the Accomack Iron Works for more han two years. Miriam had never sighed for the >ld home among the mountains. This new home hat had proved a .very haven- of rest, an ark of efuge, had been infinitely dear to her. She had ip regrets. Even with her short human vision she iould see how good had grownout of seeming evil: low, led by a way he knew not, her husband had bund more -congenial work, a wider sphere, and reer and more legitimate scope for the rare invenive genius that had so nearly jjrpved his bane. One evening they sat in their pleasant parlor, :alking, as only husband and wife can talk, of their past, their present, and their future. There were looks upon the centre table, there were pictures lpon the walls, there were fvies in the window, :here was a cradle with a rosy occupant in the corler, and from the adjoining room came the soft, neasured breathing of Master Willie. Tommy md Rose had been promoted to an upper chamier, where, porchance, thoy still dreamed of the spotted pony. "John, what were you doing up in the garret toaight?" asked Miriam." Fixing that troublesome window?" "No," he answered, while a hot flush crimsoned his forehead. "No, Miriam, T was examining that unlucky model." She gave a quick, startled glance at his face. "John!" she exclaimed, laying her hand upon bis arm, "you do not?you surely will not?" He kissed her tenderly; "No," he said, smiling, "I will not, and yet I will. There's a paradox for you.'' Miriam caught her breath painfully. 'Do not be ufleasy, and do not doubt me, my wife," he went on presently, "I shall never again sell myself soul and body to my master. A burnt jhild dreads the fire. I was wild?mad?with my 2ager longing to build my temple iu a day. I staked all upon a single throw, and I lost?or I thought I lost it; I shall never do that again." "But?you are still dreaming about tho rockdrill, John?" "Still dreaming. I cannot help it, Miriam. It haunts me day and night." "But," she said again, "I do not understand? I thought some one had forestalled you." He smiled triumphantly. "Miriam, that concern at the Patent Office can Dnly work perpendicularly. For a whole year I have been satisfied that, by making some very slight changos in mine, it could be made to run horizontally or at any given angle. And, morcjver, it feeds itself?whicb the other does not. But I would not trust myself to meddlo with it till to-day." ""And to-day??" * "I looked the thing over. Don't transfix?me with those earnest, troubled eyes, dear; I'm clothed in my right mind now. But I should be false to myself-and to you, if T should throw away all the labor of those weary years. Miriam, in a week's time I can so perfect my drill that the improvements will be worth more than the whole of that pther affair." Miriam sighed. "I don't want you to go to Washington on such business again, John; I could not bear the suspense?the dread." "Dread of what, you foolish little woman r men he added seriously, caressing the tender, helping hand he held, "Miriam, you need have no fear on that score; I am a stronger man than I was three pears ago. But I promise you that I will not go to Washington. You see," he went on, laughing, :,I want to get rich enough to buy that pony, lest Tommy and Hose should lose faith in their father!" The pony was bought in due season. Advantage of Law.?A young man who studied law in Connecticut became acquainted with the following facts, which are very remarkable, though not so very singular: A farmer cut down a tree so near the boundary line of his farm, that it was ioubtful whether it belonged to him or his neighbor. The neighbor, however, claimed the tree, ind prosecuted the man who cut it for damages. The case was continued from court to court. Time was wasted, temper soured, and temper lost; but :he case was finally gained by the prosecutor. The ast my friend knew of the transaction was, the aian who "gained the cause," came to the lawyer's jffice to execute a deed on his whole farm, which be had been compelled to sell to pay his costs! Then, houseless and homeless, he could thrust bis hands into his pockets and triumphantly exilaim, "I've beat him!" ? Wonderful Leap.?On Monday last, Mr. W. Holmes Hardin, left his fine bay mare standing bitched to a buggy in front of Mr. J. H. Walker's bouse. Something frightened her, she dashed off with the buggy, andupou reaching the gate which jpens upon the street, she leaped over, carrying the buggy with her. The mare went over clear and jarried the buggy over, except the hind wheels, which struck the top of tho gate and knocked it iown. She continued her flight until stopped in front of Mr. Holly Upson's shop, near main street The buggy was seriously damaged?one of the wheels and one of the springs being mashed up. The animal was uninjured.?Chester Reporter. gpsttltotwtittis funding. REMINISCENCE OF A CUARLESTONIAN. A prominent merchant of Charleston, whose initials will probably be recognized by many of our readers, has favored the Neics with a letter from the home of his boyhood, which he was revisiting after a protracted absence. The incident which is the main subject of his letter, is well adapted to afford consolation and encouragement to the youpg when surrounded by difficulties, and it is mainly for this purpose that we publish it: Nacoochef. Valley, Qa., Aug., 1869.?Homeagain I Yes, after long years of desolating war, I find myself once more at my old home in the' mountains of Georgia, in the 6weet vale of Nacoochee. "Where the zephyrs perfumed as from the spice island, Mount up from the valley to welcome the mom, Where the gale robs the zephyrs to gladden the highlands. With sweetness that e'en to proud Yonah Is borne. Tin a valley of peace, rich In every soft feature, In sunshine or shade, in Its own verdent green, TIs Georgia's Egcria, most lovely by nature, Carved out of a chaos of wild mountain scene." The meaning of the sweet Indian word "Nacoochee" is "Evening Star." ,Thc name was applied to a beautiful daughter oT a "Cherokee chief. In my rambles of twenty thousand miles, I have found no country to me more lovely than Nacoochee and its surroundings. Not even the tropical valleys of the West Indies, with their majestic palms, fragrant flowers and fruits; nor Italy with its vineclad hills and groves of olive and orange; nor Switzerland with its silvery lakes, fertile valleys, mountain gorges and snow-capped alps. Through the charming valley ofNacooehee, the picturesque Chattahoochee winds its way. Broad fields of Indian corn and flowering meadow lands skirt its banks. Not even a thirty years' exile from this mountain home lessens the throbbings of my heart as I return to it, and the return to Nacoochee at this time is made doubly interesting as I brought with me two sisters who had been absent nearly a score of years. That white house peering out of the grove (now the residence of my youngest sister) is the homestead in which my parents-of precious memory lived and died. The grand old oaks which have withstood the storms of a century?the trees under which we in childhood frolicked, are still green and annually send forth their autumn fruit. The little Lombardy poplars planted by tiny hands have grown to be lofty trees. The modest Methodist church near by is where Andrew and Olin thundered forth their youthful eloquence, and where Richardson, Askew, Glenn, and other sainted ministers, preached in the prime of their manhood. And there, toor is the mound on which I made my first adventure in agriculture. It was the custom of my father, as a means of encouraging his sons to habits of ipdnstry, to give to each a small portion of land, the product of which they claimed as their own. My broad acre began at the foot and ended at thS summit of the Indian mound, it was too steep and rugged to be cultivated by the plough ; I had to rely entirely upon the hoe. Having pitched my crop, the tender plants sprang forth from the rich soil. My hopes ran high at the prospect of a bountiful yield. Alas! for human hopes and expectations, thescorching suns of July came, but not a drop of rain. While my father's well cultivated fields Deipw in tne moist valley were fresh and luxuriant, mine on the mound began to wilt and droop. The prospect of becoming a bankrupt farmer daily became more manifest. As I stood gazing on my blighted prospects, and thinking what should be done, my eye fell upon the beautiful Chattahoochie, whidh makes nearly a circuit around the mound. At the sight of this mountain rivulet hope revived. I saw that success was now within my grasp. No time was lost in applying to each thirsty hill of corn the refreshing water which was brought in a bucket from the Clmttahoochie by the light of the moon. This timely application of water, which failed to fall from the clouds, saved my crop and made my fortune of ten dollars. To this circumstance, though trivial in itself, as it may seem to your readers, I attribute much of my success in after life. This small capital of ten dollars was what I had to begin with, after a walk of one hundred miles, from Nacoochee to Augusta, Ga., in 1838. In the rough path of commerce, which I havo traveled many long years, I have encountered scorching droughts, financial panics, dosolating wars, and steep mounds covered with thorns and thistles. At times I felt that the burdens and difficulties I had to overcome were greater than I could bear, and often was tempted to falter by the way; but in these trials I always remembered the small farm on the Nacoochic mound, and tho lesson it taught me, which was, first to hav.e m. and a general reliance in Providence, but never failing to use all the means a merciful Providence placod within my reach. I have learned frem hard-earned experience that success means toil, energy, watchfulness, order, justice, sobriety and economy. In this day men are not. fed by ravens, but are commanded to cam their bread by the sweat of the brow?a commandment some people find very hard to obey. G. W. W. IIOW SOME PEOPLE MAKE A LIVING. In Paris not only are there breeders of "clean ai>/1 orn olnon onrJ nf fntrhl UL'nain UHU Ul UUUOIO IIIUI utv IIUWIUUII) uu%? v? ?VM?M and other tilings that oroop upon tho earth," but there are educators of squirrels, instructors of owls and canaries, professors of language for parrots, magpies and starlings, and of singing for chaffinches, goldfinches and nightingales. Moreover, all these people manage to live by the singular profession they have qhoseri. Take the case of the birds' singing-master, who earns quite as much as many professionals who teach singing to unfeathered bipeds. A bird that costs a few francs has its valae more than quadrupled after a course of lessons from one of these professors, who receive singing birds of every description as boarders, and superintend their musical education, or provide tutors for them at their own homes in the shape of perfectly trained warblers, which are shut up night and day with the pupil, whose vocal attainments are of an inferior order. Intelligent birds, after about six weeks' instruction, are able to sing two or three airs correctly, and in due course will become more or loss accomplished tenors and sopranos. These feathered Morios and Pattis are produced by contract for from fivo to ten francs each, according to the completeness of the musical education stipulated for. Tim terms for professors of their own species to iustruct them at their own homes, is generally six pence per week, with hoard in addition. A few years ago, the inhabitants of a particular street in Paris were attacked with an unaccountable irritation of the epidermis, which compelled them to scratch themselves from morn till flight, no considerate duke of Argyle being there to take compassion on them. The result was that they sacrificed themselves bit by bit, and any one seeing them would have thought that leprosy at loaat had fallen on the quarter. An inquiry was instituted hi/ thf> authorities. when itwas discovered that the proximity of a certain Mademoiselle Rose, breeder of ants, for the .sake of their eggs for fattening young pheasants, was the cause of the calamity. On the police visiting her establishment, they encountered a woman between forty and fifty years of age, and of a terrible aspect, her face and hands being as completely tanned as though they had undergone dressing at the hands of a skilful currier. This was the result of continuous attacks on the part of her ungrateful pupils, whose inroads upon her person had fhrcod her to encase the rest of her body in buff leather. Thus protected she slept at night surrouuded by sacks full of her vivacious merchandise, in perfect security, and seemed much astonished at the police visiting her establishment. "How can any one venture to complain of these little insects?" remarked she. "Why, I live in the very midst ef them, and do not feel any the worse. Some one must have a spite against me, I am certain?the world is so wicked." Despite, however, of all she could urge, Mademoiselle Rose was obliged to transport her strange boarding establishment to a perfectly isolated building beyond the barrier, and in due course the cutaneous irritation experienced by her late neighbors was allayed. ".! Mademoiselle Rose had her correspondents in many of the departments of France, more especially in those where very large forests exist, and paid them at the rate of a couple of francs a day. Her aggregate daily consignments were about half a score of large sacks, her profits on which amounted to thirty francs. She was proud of her trade, and maintained that she was the only person who thoroughly understood the fecundation of emmets, having long since made it her business to study the manners and customs of these insects, "I can maL-o " fiHfl nra? to sav. ,llav ecfffl at will. and. produce ten times as many as they do in a wild state. To accomplish this I place them in a room where there is an irou stove kept heated red hot. I allow them to make their nests where they please, as it never does to Interfere with them. They require great ease, and the more attention you bestow upon them the more money they will bring you in. I sell their eggs to the chemists, and supply the Jardin des Plantes and most of the breeders of pheasants in the neighborhood of Paris with them. The young birds have a peculiar liking for this kind of food." Not only has Paris its breeders of ants, but its breeders of "genteels" as well. The more than two thousand enthusiastic anglers, men and boys, which the city numbers, need a good deal of bait for their lines, and an old man, known as Pere Salin, found a way to supply it The calling is anything but a clean one, although the manufacture was, so to say, self working. All that was requisite was to obtain a good supply of defunct domestic animals and store them away in an old loft until they were in a state of putrescence, when the gentles were oollected and packed in tin cases, known as "culottes," for which a couple of francs each were -charged, and by the sale of whioh our gentle merchant realized a profit of about fifteen francs a day in the height of the season. In the N winter he turned his attention to rearing worms for nightingales?a first-rate business in its way, yielding an ample return on an insignificant capital; the Parisians who keep nightingales being mostly rich old women and quiet tradesmen, who pay well for the favorite food of their pets.?AH the Year Round. REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR. The recollection of Gen. Wade Hampton's foray upon Gen. Grant's beef-pen, in the fall of 1864, is still fresh in the minds of the men who lay for so long a time half starved in the trenches around > Petersburg. It was quite a brilliant and well-executed affair. Hampton's chief scout, Sergeant Shadbourne, ofthe Jeff. Davis Legion of Cavalry, had made a daring reconnoissancdtuto the enemy's lines, and ascertained the exact position of the beef-pen, and assured the General that he could guide our command within a mile of the camp of the cavalry guard detailed by Grant to watch his meat supplies. He was perfectly familiar with all the roads and by-paths leading to 8ycamore church, at which point the animals were being grazed. So we were marched to within ten miles ofthe church and halted to rest men and horses, and to perfect the details of the next morning's work. Pickets were posted, the scouts sent out to scour the roads leading to the church, and the weary command lay down to sleep. Some hours before daylight the bugle sounded merrily "to horse," and off we trotted, feeling confident that our experienced leader was up to something which would redound to the glory of our arms and the benefit of our cause. Just as day dawned, the charge was sounded, and the front regiment dashed ahead upon the enemy's vidette and into the camp of the sleeping Federals, Shadbourne and his gajlant band of scouts at the head. The enemy's vidette fired his piece, roused his comrades, and the shot flew thick and fast for a while. The wild shout of victory was but the death-knell to some of the bravest spirits there, and many of the men and officers of both sides were killed. A hasty prayer for the fleeting spirits of their dying comrades, and the men dashed on to where the vast herd of splendid cattle stood stupidly gazing at the wild rout into which their Federal protectors were plunged. And then began the plundering of the rich commissary and sutler stores. Men were-seen everywhere smoking the finest" cigars,' drinking toasts to fine liquor, laden down with blankets, boots, butter, cheese, and a confused mass, suoh as only a hungry, half-famished rebel plundering a Yankee camp oould gather up. The camp having been thoroughly ransacked, Hampton ordered his Generals?Rosser, Hearing, and W. H. F, Lee? to get their men together, and then came the command, "back to ^ i i vTvt . tt n.i _ a n camp, toionoi vvnue, or tne nowing iocks, in the advance with his splendid battalion of Virginia cavalry. Then came Dearing, and far in the rear, to keep danger away from the bovine prisoners, 2,300 strong, oame W. H. F. Lee, with his division. The sun was sinking in the West, but not down, when a courier from White announced that he had met the enemy's cavalry on the Jerusalem plank road, and they were too many for him. The spurs were dashed into the sides of the horses, and soon the wild yell announced that Rosser's troopers had made a charge under the lead of that daring General. As General Hampton spurred to the scene of action, a courier was met, "on foaming steed," from Rosser, saying he had dismounted his men and foaght on foot until not ten rounds of ammunition remained to the men. Courier after oourier was dispatched to hurry up General Lee. The cattle were turned off into another road, and in the meantime our horse artillery had been placed in position to respond to the shots of the ene-. my, Who that was there can ever forget the wild grandeur of that scene? The sun shedding its parting beams upon the battling hosts, the heavy plunging of the shot and shell through the ranks of men and horses, the waving of battle flags, the galloping of staff officers and couriers over the field, the defiant shoots of our men calling to the Yankees to "come and get some beef for supper," all made up a scene strangely mingling the subHme and the ridiculous. The enemy left our front just at dark, and we quietly took up our fine of march Mimn TVin Vtuna SnAinian ?n ikn Iforinkoa vn. WSJ vaui|i. J.UW UUI^IJ iu wo mouvuwi ivceived the news of qw good fortune with shouts of joy, and they did cot call in question the fighting qualities of the cavalry any more, And yet we had only kept up the brilliant reputation they had always given us as foragers. Never had such steaks and roasts been seen in the army since our Pennsylvania campaign. It is needless to add that everybody enjoyed the beef.?Natchez Democrat. -?-* Scolding.?I never knew a scolding person that was able to govern a family. What makes, people scold ? Beoause they dannot govern themselves, How, then, can they, govern others? Those who go?ern well are generally calm. Tney. are prompt and resolute, but steady and mild. 4&*Save your money, and you will find it one of the most useful friends.