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LEWIS M;JG-RIST' | ^ " in jn^ifnt jtb^tptr: |or % |romofai of !l)f folitital, SorJl. ^gricaltural aub tfoiamerll |ntmstscf tbc ?cut|. ^ ^' VOL. 15. / YORKYILLE, 8. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1869. NO. 36. - - -?^ . . j.... i . , . i ???j - 7 r~rm vr MARY MOORE All my life I had known Mary Moore; all my life 1 had loved her. Our mothers were old playmates, and first cousins. My first recollections are of a boy, in a red frock and morocco shoes, rocking a cradle, in which reposed a sunny-haired, blueeyed baby, not quite a year old. That boy was myself?Harry Church; that baby was Mary Moore. Later still, I see myself at the old schoolhouse, drawing my little chaise up to the door that Mary might ride home. Many a beating have I gained on such occasions, for other boys besides me liked her, and she, I fear, was something of a flirt, even in her pinafore. How elegantly she came tripping down the steps when I called her name ; how sweetly her blue eyes looked at me; how gaily rang out her merry laugh. No one but Mary could , ever hring her heart so soon to her Up& I followed that laugh from my days ot ctnkihood till I grew an awkward, blushing youth; I followed it through the heated noon of manhood ; and now when the frosts of age are silvering my hair, and many children climb upon ray knee, and call me "father," I find that the memories of youth are strong, and that even in gray hairs, I am following the music still. When I was fifteen, the first great sorrow of my life came upon my heart I was sent to school, and was obliged to part with Mary. We were not to see each other for three long years. This to me was like a sentence of death, for Mary was like life itself to me. But hearts are tough things after all. I left college in all the flush of my nineteenth year. I was no longer awkward or embarrassed. I had grown into a tall, slender stripling, with a very good opinion of myself both in general and particular. If I thought of Mary Moore it was to imagine how I could dazzle and bewilder her with my good looks and wonderful mental attainments, and never thinking that she might dazzle and bewilder me still more. I was a coxcomb, I know, but as youth and good looks have fled, I trust that I may be believed when I say that self-conceit has left me also. An advantageous proposal was made me at that time, and accepting it, I gave up all idea of a profession, ana prepared to go to India. in my nurnea visn uuuie ui i?u uajo, x nothing of Mary Moore. 8he had gone to a boarding school at some distance, and was not expected home until the following May. I uttered a sigh to the memory of my little blue-eyed playmate, and then called myself "a man" again. In a year, I thought as the vehicle whirled away from our door?in a year, or three years at the very most?I will return, and if Mary is as pretty as she used to be, why then, perhaps, I may marry her. And thus I settled the future of a young lady whom I had not seen for four years. I never thought of the possibility of her refusing me?never dreamed that she would not condescend to accept my offer. But now I know that had Mary met me then she would have despised me. Perhap in the scented and affected student she might have found plenty of sport; but as for loving me, I should have perhaps found myself mistaken. India was my salvation, not merely because of my success, but because my laborious industry had counteracted the evil in my nature, and had made me a better man. When at the end of three years, I prepared to return, I said nothing of the reformation of myself, which I know had taken place. They loved me as I was, I murmured to rayself, and they shall find out for themselves whether I am better worth loving than formerly. T r\inl-o/1 iin mnnv n. tnkan frnm that land A J/.V?VV. of roraanoe aud gold for the friends I hoped to meet The gift for Mary Moore I selected with a beating heart; it was a ring of rough, virgin gold, with my name and her's engraved inside?that was all, and yet the sight of the little toy strangely thrilled me as I balanced it upon the tip of my finger. To the eyes of others it was but a small plain circlet, suggesting thoughts, perhaps, by its elegance, of the beautiful white hand that was to wear it. But not to me?how much was embodied there?all these delights were hidden within that little ring of gold. Tall, bearded, and sun-bronzed, I knocked at the door of my father's house. The lights in the parlor-window, and the hum of conversation and cheerful laughter, showed me that company was assembled there. I hoped that sister Lizzie would come to the door, and I might greet my family when no strange eye was looking carelessly on. But no, a servant answered my summons. They were too merry in the parlor to heed the long-absent one who asked for admittance. A bitter thought like this ran through my mind as I heard the sound from the parlor, and saw the half-suppressed smile on the servant's face. I hesitated a moment before making myself known or asking for any of the family. And while I stood silent, a strange apparition grew up before me; from behind the servant peered out a golden head, a tiny, delicate form and a sweet childish face with blue eyes, so like to those of one who had brightened my boyhood, that I started with a sudden feeling of pain. "What is your name, my pretty ?" I asked while the wondering servant held the door. "Mary Moore." "And what else ?" I asked quickly. She lifted up her hands to shade her face. I had seen that very attitude in another, in my boyhood, many and many a time?and answered in a sweet, bird-like voice : "Mary Moore Chester," lisped the child. My heart sank down like lead. Here was an end to all the bright dreams and hopes oi my youth and manhood. Frank Chester, my boyish rival, who had often tried in vain to usurp my place beside the girl, had succeeded at last, ana naa won ner away irum mu. x uk was the child?his child and Mary's. I sank, body and soul, beneath this blow and hiding my face in my hands I leaned against the door, while my heart wept tears ol blood. The little one gazed at me, grieved and amazed, and put up her pretty lips as il about to cry, while the perplexed servant Btepped to the parlor and called my sister out to see who it was that conducted himself sc strangely. I heard a slight step, and a pleas ant voice, saying: "Did you wish to see my father, sir ?" I looked up. There stood a pretty, sweetfaced maiden of twenty, not much changed from the dear little sister I had loved so well I looked at her for a moment, and then stilling the tempest of my heart by a mighty ef fort, I opened my arms and said : "Lizzie, don't you know me ?" "Harry ! Oh, ray brother Harry!" she criec and threw herself upon my breast, and wep as if her heart would break. I could not weep. I drew her gently int< the lighted parlor, and stood with her befori them all. There was a rush, and a cry of joy, and then my father and mother sprang toward me, and welcomed me home with heart-felt tears. Oh! strange and passing sweet is such a greeting to the way-worn traveler. And .as I held my dear old mother to my heart, and grasped my father's hand, while Lizzie clung beside me, I felt that all was not yet lost; and although another had secured life's most choicest blessing, many a joy remained for me in the dear sanctuary of home. There were four other inmates of the room, who had risen on rav sudden entrance. One was the blue-eyed child whom I had already seen, and who now stood beside Frank Chester clinging to his hand. Near by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary's eldest sister, and in a distant corner to which she had hurriedly retreated when my name was spoken, stood a tall and slender figure, half hidden by the heavy window curtains that fell to the floor. When the first rapturous greeting was over, Lizzie led rae forward with a timid grace, and Frank Chester grasped ray hand. "Welcome home, my boy I" lie said, witb the loud, cheerful tones I remembered so well. "You have changed so that I never would have known you ; but no matter about that, your heart is in the right place, I know." "How can you say he is changed ?" said my mother, gently. "'1*0 be sure he looks older and graver, and more like a man than when he went away; but his eyes and smile are the same as ever. It is a heavy heart which changes him. He is my boy still," "Aye, mother," I answered, sadly, "I am your boy still." Heaven help me! At that moment I felt like a boy, and it would have been a blessed relief to have wept upon her bosom as I had done in my infancy. But I kept down the beating of my heart, and the tremor of my lip, and answered quietly, us I looked into his full handsome face? "You have changed, too, Frank, but I think for the better." "Oh! yes?thank vou for the compliment," he answered, with a hearty laugh. "My wife tells me I grow handsomer every day." His wife! Could I hear that name and keep silent still. "And have you seen my little girl V' he added, lifting the infant in his arms, and kissing her crimsoned cheek. "I tell you, Harry, there is no such othlr in the world. Don't you think she looks very much like her mother used to?" iitr ? r j v ery mucii, x nuitieu. "Hallo!" cried Frank, with a suddenness which made me start violently, "I have forgotten to introduce you to my wife; I believe you and she used to be playmates in your younger days?yes, Harry," and he slapped me on the back?"for the sake of old times, and because you were not at the wedding, I will give you leave to kiss her once, but mind, old fellow, you are never to repeat the ceremony. Come, here she is; I for one, want to see how you will manage those ferocious moustaches of yours in the operation." He pushed Lizzie, laughing and blushing, towards me. A gleam of light and hope almost too dazzling to bear, came over me, and I cried out before I thought, "Not Mary." It must have betrayea my secret to every one in the room. But nothing was said; even Frank, in general so obtuse, was this time silent. I kissed the fair cheek of the young wife, and hurried to the silent figure looking out of the window. "Mary?Mary Moore!" I said in a low eager tone, "have you no welcome to give the wanderer ?" She turned and laid her hand in mine, and said hurriedly? "I am glaa to see you here, Harrv." Simple words, and yet how blest they made me. I would not have yielded her up that moment for an emperor's crown. For there was the happy home group and dear home fireside, with sweet Mary Moore. The eyes I had dreamed of day and night were falling beneath the ardent gaze of mine, and the sweet face I had so long prayed to see was there beside me. I never knew the meaning of happiness until that moment. Many years have passed since that happy night, and the hair that was dark and glossy is fast turning gray. I am now grown to be an nlrl in on onrl pun lrmlr Vinck tn a hannv.ftnd I hope, a well speiit life. And yet, sweet as it has been, I would not recall a single day, for the love that made my manhood so bright, shines also upon mv white hairs. An old man ! Oan this be so ? At heart, I am as young as ever. And Mary, with her bright hair parted smoothly from a brow that has a slight furrow upon it, is still the Man'of other days. To me she can never grow ola or changed. The heart that held her iu infancy and sheltered her in the flash and beauty of womanhood, can never cast her out till life shall cease to warm it. Not even then, for love still lives above. ? + ?BEVIS?.-A TALE OF A BOG. The Lyons diligence was jast going to start from Geneva. I climbed 011 the roof, and chose my place next the driver; there was still ' a vacant seat, and the porter called "Monsieur Dermann." A tall young man with a German style of countenance advanced, holding in his arms a large black greyhound, which he vainly tried to place on the roof. "Monsieur," said ho, addressing me, "will you have the kindness to take my dog?" Bendiug over, I took hold of the animal, and placed him on the straw at my feet. I observed that he wore a handsom silver collar, on which the following words were tastefully engraved : "Bevis. I belong to Sir Arthur Burnley, given him by Miss Clara." His owner was, therefore, an Englishman, yet my fellow traveller, who had now taken his place by my side, was evidently either a ; Swiss or a German, and his name was Dert' manu. Trifling as was the mystery, it excited my curiosity, and after a two or three hour?, i pleasant conversation had established a sort of 1 intimacy between us, I ventured to ask my : companion lor an explanation. "It does not surprise me," he answered, "that , this collar should puzzle you ; and I have great [ pleasure in telling you the story of its wearer. F Bevis belongs to me, but it is not many years [ since he owned another master, whose name is F 011 his collar. You will sec he still wears it. t Here, Bevis! speak to the gentleman." ; The dog raised his head, opened his bright ) eyes, and, laying back his long ears, uttered a sound which might well pass for a salutation. Mr. Hermann placed the animal's head on his knees and began to unfasten his collar. Instantly Bevis drew back his head with a [ violent jerk, and darted toward the luggage on . the hind part of the roof. There, growling - fiercely, he lay down, while his muscles were - stiffened, and his eyes glowed with fury. "You see, monsieur, how determined he is to guard his collar; I should not like to be the I man who would try to rob him of it. Here, t Bevis," said he, in a soft, caressing tone, "I won't touch it again, poor fellow! Come and > make friends!" 3 The greyhound hesitated, still growling. At length he returned slowly towards his master, and began to lick his hands; his muscles gradually relaxed, and he trembled like a leaf. "There, boy, there," said M. Dermann, caressing him. "We won't do it again. Lie down now, and be quietT' The dog nestled between his master's feet, and went to sleep. My fellow-traveller then turning towards me began: "I am a native of Suabia, but I live in a little village of Shcrland, at the foot of the Grimsel. My father keeps an inn for the reception of travellers going to St. Gothard. About two years since there arrived at our house one evening a young Englishman, with a pale, sad countenance; he travelled on foot, and was followed by a large greyhound, this Bevis, whom you see. He declined taking any refreshments and asked to be shown to his sleeping room. We gave him one over the common hall, where we were all seated around the fire. Presently we heard him pacing rapidly up and down; from time to time uttering brokeu words, addressed no doubt to his dog, 1 for the animal moaned occasionally, as if re- < plying to, and sympathizing with, his master. "At length we heard the Englishman stop, ] and apparently strike the dog a blow, for the < poor beast gave a loud howl of agony, and seem- j ed as if he ran to take refuge under the bed. i Then his master groaned aloud. Soon after- ] wards he lay down, and all was quiet for the ] night. Early next morning he came down, j looking still more pale than the previous even- i ing and having paid for his lodging, he took his knapsack and resumed his journey, follow ed by the greyhound, who had eaten nothing since their arrival, and whose master seemed ( to take no further notice of him than to frown ( when the creature ventured to caress him. ] "About noon I happened to be standing at , the door, looking toward the direction which , the Englishman had taken, when I heard j howls of distress, proceeding from a wounded dog that was dragging himself towards 1 me. "I ran to him, and recognized the Eng- ' lishman's greyhound. His head was torn ' evidently by a bullet, and one of his paws j broken. I raised him in my arms and caf- 1 ried him, into the house. When I crossed 1 the threshold he made evident efforts to , escape; so I placed him on the ground. Then, j in spite of the torture he was suffering, which J caused him to stagger every moment, he j scratched at the door of the room where his , master had slept, moaning at the same time so piteously, that I could scarcely help weeping myself I opened the door, and with a great effort he got into the room, looked about, and not finding whom he sought, he fell down motionless. "I called my father, and perceived that the i dog was not dead, we gave him all possible ' assistance, taking indeed as much care of ! him as though he had been a child, so much i did we feel for him. In two months he was i cured, and showed us much affection ; we found 1 it. impossible however, to take off his collar, i even for the purpose of binding up his wounds. < As soon as he was able to Yawl, he would i often go toward the mountain, and be absent i for hours. The second time this occurred, 1 we followed him. He proceeded as far as a 1 part of the road where a narrow defile borders a precipice; there he continued for a long time, smelling and scratching about. We conjectured i that the Englishman might have been attack- j edTiV robbers on this spot, and his dog wound- _ ed in defending him. However, no event of the kind had occurred in the country, and after the strictest search no corpse could be discovered. Recollecting, therefore, the manner in which the traveler had treated his dog, I came to the conclusion that he had tried to kill the faithful creature. But wherefore? This was a mystery which I could not solve. "Bevis remained with us, testifying the utmost gratitude for our kindness. His intelligence and good humor attracted the strangers who frequented our inn, while the inscription on his collar, and the tale we had to tell of him, failed not to excite their curiosity. One morning in autumn, I had been out to take a walk, accompanied by Bevis. When I returned I found seated by the fire, in the common hall, a newly-arrived traveler, who looked around as I entered. As soon as he perceived Bevis, he started and called him. The dog immediately started toward him with frantic demonstrations of joy. He ran round him, smelling his clothes, and uttered the sort of salutation with which he honored you just now, and finally placing his forepaws on the traveler's knees, began to lick his face. "Where is your master, Bevis ? Where is Sir Arthur?" said the stranger, in English. The noble dog howled piteously, and laid down at the traveler's feet. Then the latter begged us to explain his presence. I did so; and as he listened, I saw a tear fall on the beautiful head of the greyhound, who he leaned over to caress. "Monsieur," said he addressing me, "from what you tell me, I venture to hope that Sir Arthur still lives. We have been friends from childhood. About three years since he married a rich heiress, and this dog was presented to him by her. Bevis was highly cherished for his fidelity, a quality which unhapily was not possessed by his mistress. She left her fond and loving housband, and eloped with another man. Sir Arthur sued for a divorce, and obtained it; then having arranged his affairs in England he set out for the Continent, followed only by his dog. His friends knew not whither he went. Doubtless, the presence of Bcvis, evermore recalling the memory of her who had so cruelly wronged him, must haVe torn his heart, and at length impelled him to destroy the faithful creature. But the shot not having been mortal, the dog, I imagine, when ire recovered consciousness, was led by instinct to seek the house where his master last slept Now, Monsieur, he is yours, and I heartily thank you for the kindness you have shown him." "About 10 o'clock the stranger retired to his room, after having caressed Bevis, who escorted him to his door, and then returned to his accustomed place before the fire. My parents and the servants had retired to rest, and I prepared to follow their example?my bed being plnced at one end of the common hall. While 1 was undressing I heard a storm rising in the mountains. Just then there came a knocking at the door, and Bevis began to growl. I asked who was there ? A voice replied, 'two travelers, who want a night's lodging.' I opened a small chink of the door to look out, and perceived two ragged men, each leaning on a large club. I did not like their looks; and knowing that several robberies had been committed in the neighborhood, I refused them admission, telling them that in the next village they wouid readily find shelter. They approached the door, as though they meant to force their way in ; but Bevis made his voice heard in so formidable a maimer that they judged it prudent to retire. I bolted the door and went to bed. Bevis, according to his custom, lay down near the threshold, but we neither of us felt inclined to sleep. "A quarter of an hour passed, when suddenly, above the wailing of the wind, came the loud, shrill cry of a human being in distress. Bevis rushed against the door with a fearful howl; at the same moment came the report of i gun followed by another cry. Two minutes after I was on the road, armed with a carbine, and carrying a dark lantern; my father and the stranger, armed, accompanied me. As for Bevis, he had darted out of the house and disappeared. "We approached the defile which I mentionad before, at the moment when a flash of lightling illuminated the scene. A hundred yards in advance we saw Bevis grasping a man by the hroat. We hurried on, but the dog had completed his work ere we reached him ; for two men, whom I recognized as those who had sought admittance to our inn, lay dead, strangled by his powerful jaws. Further on, we discovered another man, whose bloody wounds ;he noble dog was licking. The stranger approached him, and gave a convulsive ,cry; it svas Sir Arthur?the master of Bevis!" Here M. Dermann paused; the recollection seemed to overcome him; and. he stopped to mress the sleeping greyhound in order to hide lis emotion. After a while he finished his rental in a few words. "Sir Arthur was mortally wounded, but he lived long enough to recognize his dog, and to confess that in a moment of desperation, he had ;ried to kill the faithful creature who now asrenged his death, hy slaying the robbers who iad attacked him. He appointed the stranger liis executor, and settledalarge pension on Bevis, to revert to the family of the inn-keeper, wishing thus to testify his repentant love towards his dog, and his gratitude toward those who had succored him. The grief of Bevis was excessive; he watched by his master's couch, covering his dead body with caresses, and for a long time lay stretched on his grave, refusing to take nourishment; and it was not until after the lapse of many months that the affection of his new master seemed to console him for the loss of Sir Arthur." As my fellow-traveler finished the recital, the diligence stopped to change horses at the little town of Mentua. Here M. Dermann's journey ended, and having taken down his luggage, he asked me to assist the descent of his Jog. I shook hands with him cordially, and then called Bevis, who seeing me on such good terms with his master, nlaced his large paws on my breast and uttered a low, friendly bark. Shortly after they both disappeared from my fight, out not from my memory, as this little narrative has proved. Jgfimftmm ?cadituj. A RACE FOR LIFE ON A RAILROAD. To make it an intelligent matter to the reader, let me say that the Buffalo, Corry and Pittsburg Road intersects the Lake Shore Road at this place. The station at the junction is called Brocton. Now let it be understood that from this point to Mayville, at the bead of Chautauqua Lake, a distance of only about ten miles, a train is carried over an elevation of 700 feet From the station to the summit the grade is about eight feet to the mile, with curves which increase the distance by four miles. It is over this road that the immense quantities of petroleum are brought. On Tuesday evening, about 9 o'clock, a train consisting of six oil cars and two passenger cars reached the summit on its way to the junction. Here, by some cause as vet unexplained, one of the oil-tanks took fire. The Eassenger cars were at one detached, and the rakes stopped them. Next the oil cars were cut off, and the locomotive, tender and box car, containing two valuable horses and two men, passed down the road, the engineer supposing that the brakemen on the oil cars would arrest the course of those, but what was his horror on looking back to see the six cars in pursuit of him down the grade enveloped in flames! They not only pursued but overtook him, striking the box car with inconceivable force, knocking the horses and men flat upon the floor, and yet almost miraculously not throwing the engine from the track. It was now with the engineer a race for life, and he gave the engine every ounce of steam. Looking South from the place of my residence at that terrible juncture, one of the most magnificent spectacles was witnessed that a man sees in a life-time. A sheet of intensely bright flame, sixty feet high, was seen coming down that Southern slope, apparently with the speed of a meteor, and really very nearly the speed of a hurricane, (eighty miles an hour,) for pursued and pursuer flew over the course, or rather down it, and around the curves, at the rate of more than seventy miles nri Vimir aa the engineer declares, and as everybody can believe -who witnessed the spectacle. The whole heavens were illuminated, and the landscape was lit up as by the noonday light. Onward and downward flew the engine, and behind it flew and thundered the huge fiery demon. Twice its prodigious weight was driven against the fugitive, as if instinct with a purpose to drive it from the track. It seemed as if to the heroic engineer and fireman there was a perfect environment of peril. The speed of the engine was such that it ceased to pump; then again, the Cincinnati express was due at the junction at this time. The engineer of the oil train whistled "open switch," and shaking hands with the fireman, they bade each other farewell, knowing that their lives depended on the opening of the Lake Shore switch by their friends below, and this was to imperil the express train coming down from the West with its living human freight. The engineer on this train saw the fire when it first broke out at the summit, and supposing he could clear the junction before the flaming terror reached it, he, too, put his engine to the utmost speed on a level grade. A mile short of the junction he saw that the effort was a vain one, for the flying conflagration had rushed on upon the Lake Shore track, and was roaring onward in the direction of Dunkirk. He checked the onward course of his own train and brought it to a stand-still. It did not proceed until 3 o'clock in the morning. The case took in another danger, and it was imminent. A heavy freight train was coming up the Lake Shore road. All I will say of the escape of this is that it did escape to the side traca, and only escaped by the last minute of possibility. "Runnincr nn to a safe distance from the de pot, the engineer of the oil train detached his his engine and left the six cars to consume. He says his situation was fully realized by him. He expected to lose his life. At every moment he expected the engine to leave the track. He saw he was going at a perilous rate of speed, but there was no help for it. The demon was behind him, and he declares that it looked like a demon. With that fondness of real affection for his engine, which these men display, he said, "I thought everything of my engine, and was determined to stay by it to the last." The fireman made one attempt to escape by jumping from the tender, but the engineer restrained him. Altogether the occurrence was a remarkable one, and in part remarkable for this, that no lives were lost Thebrakemen on the oil cars had gone back to the passenger cars, when the oil cars started, it was well they did. Unless those rear cars had been detached and stopped, their inmates would have been burned to death.?Correspondence of Buffalo Express. A NEW MATERIAL FOR PAPER. Some very interesting experiments have been in progress at the Cickassabogue Paper Mills, near Mobile, as we learn from the Mobile Reaister, under the direct supervision of Dr. J. B. Reed, of Tuscaloosa, well known as the inventor of the Reed shell which has rendered the Parrott gun so effective an engine of destruction in warfare. Several years since, when the cost and scarcity of rags rendered it important to discover some material which might be substituted in whole or in part for rags waa the subject of much thought and investigation, the idea occurred to this gentleman that the okra plant, belonging to the family of the cotton plant, and containing a good deal of excellent fibre, might be advantageously used in the manufacture of paper. With him, to think was to act, and he at once commenced a series of experiments with a view to subject the theory to a practical test. Obtaining a small boiler, capable of bearing a considerable steam pressure, and gathering a few stalks as they were left in his garden, he commenced his work with the patience, labor and perseverance which seem to belong in a high degree to inventors, and are essential to their success. The experiments thus far made demonstrated the fact that good brown paper could be made of okra; but it remained to show that this material could be bleached to sufficient whiteness to make it available for printing or book papers, and if so, at what cost in comparison with rag or other material. To decide by actual test, this important question was the object of the investigation at the Chickassabogue Mills to which we have referred. The experiments were concluded, and the result is eminently gratifying to those engaged in them, and is of particular interest to the press, dealers in and manufacturers of paper generally, and to farmers and gardeners m the South within reasonable distances of paper mills. In the opinion of the experienced paper makers who watched the progress of the work from the cutting of the dry stalks of okra to the production of paper from the machine, the following points may be regarded as established: 1. Okra requires but little handling to prepare for boiling, is readily passed through the cutter, needs no sorting, and the entire plant is available from the root to the pod. 2. It is easily boiled, is well oured, requires only time to reduce it, and may -be washed and beaten ready for the machine in about half the time required for. preparing rag stock, thus largely increasing the productive capacity of the mill without additional machinery. 3. When properly boiled it yields readily to the action of chemicals and can be bleached at no greater expense than ordinary rags. <1 T>ia miln wnrks as freelv and smoothlv on the machine as any other fibre?does not stick to metallic press rolls like straw and wood, even when working pure okra pulp, dries readily, and can be run safely at the highest speed of the machine. 5. The paper made here from it is very strong, tough and elastic?better in these re-, spects, when made entirely of okra, than either straw or wood pulp when mixed with fifty per cent, or more with rags. It has none of the brittleness and hardness so objectionable in straw papers, and may be subjected to strong friction by rubbing between the thumb and fingers, or between the hands, and will open out smoothly and soft as a glove. 6. It will make an excellent substitute to mix with other fibres in the beating engines, and is of itself a superior hand stock. 7. Whether wonted pure or mixed with rags it makes a paper entirely free from the objection justly raised by the printer against straw and wood papers. 8. It makes an excellent stock for fine wrapping paper, and imitation Manilla paper, and even in its raw state, .without .boiling or bleaching, makes a strong article of common wrapping paper, suitable for grocers and hardware use?superior to any made of straw. The grand result will be the cheapening of paper to consumers, and it ought to be the transfer of paper manufacturing mainly to the South, where this fibre is so readily and cheaply grown. We may add that the Chickassabogue Paper Mills, near Mobile, are now advertising for stalks, and will purchase 1200 tons of that material if it can be furnished. THE FOUR GATES OF HELL. A GENUINE HARD-SHELL BAPTIST SERMON. William Reynolds, of Peoria, is well known as an enthusiastic worker in the Sabbath school cause. He is perhaps better known than any other man in tne State, and we give the following story as he tells it, as near as we remember. The main facts are all absolutely true. He was in the southern part of the State last week organizing Sunday schools, when he encountered a Hard-Shell Rnnt.ifit, neighborhood. The minister settled over the littTe flock looked with jealoi sv upon the movements of the new lights, a; _ finally announced his intention of preaching n sermon against them. On the Sabbath designated the Sunday-school men gathered in force, when the preacher announced that well-known text? "Thou art Peter! and on this rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." After giving Peter a good setting out, the minister closed as follows, in that peculinr singing tone that is indescribable except to those who have heard it: "Yes, my brethering ah?an' the gates of hell shel not pervailagin' it, ah! Now, you'd like to know about these ere gates o' hell, ah! Well, my brethering, tliar air four gates to hell, ah! ""Thar is, fustly, the Sunday school system, ah! That thar is one gate to hell, ah, whar they bring young men and wimmin together ah, and onder the igee of teachin' on 'em the Bible, they set 'em hankerin' arfter one another ah, and so open wide the gate of hell ah ! "An' the next gate o' hell is wuss'n the fust ah. That thar is Bible so-ci-i-ties ah, whar they put the word into the hands o' them as haint larnin' sufficient ah, fur to understan' it ah; an' this here, brethering, is one of the wust gates o' hell ah, of which we read about in the Bible ah. "An' the next gate o' hell, my brethering, is temperance societies ah, whar they go rite into yer house and bust into yer rooms ah, and try to diskivcr ef ye hev anythin' ah that is good fer the stummick's sake, an' when they find it they spill it out on to the groun' ah, an' let it all run to waste ah." [Signs of dissatisfaction among his church members. Greatly excited, he continued:] "Yis, brethering, they do, ah. They air boun' to bust up all o' our bizness, an'?an' ah, tharby they open another gate o' hell ah. These air the men that air, ah, goin' to come among us, and prevail, ah, agin the rock on which will I foun' my church, ah.^ Yis, brethering, ah, they air sot out to do it ah, an' we must jine hands ah, an' war agin 'era ah, that they shel not prevail, ah. "An' the next gate o' hell ah, my brethering ah, is the Republikin party ah. [Signs of approval from his auditors.] Yes, blethering ah, the Republikin party ah, wot hez set all the niggers free ah, and turned 'em agin thar marsters ah, an' agin them as put thar money in 'em ah, an' hez cheeted ana robbed the Skuth ah, outen its materal rites ah, an' the gates o' hell shel not prevail agin it ah." We can give the preacher's name and address if necessary. The party were too much annoyed to take accurate notes. But Mr. Reynolds himself will vouch for the truth of what we have written. Truth is stranger than fiction.?El Paso {III.) Journal A MEAN ACT* On Wednesday night of last week, a building used as a church, by a colored congregation, situated near the residence of Maj. John SanV??? A 11 niw/iiirvi uuoj new urouujcu ujr me. xjuu uue vuvumstances of the case point unmistakably to the conclusion that it was the work of an incendiary. It was a mean, cowardly, dastardly act, and ve earnestly hope that the perpetrator of it, be he white or black, maybe detected, convicted and punished with the severest penalties of the law. We can hardly believe tnat there is any white man in the county so reckless, or so foolish, as to have done this thing. We do know from the course of events lately, that there are parties here who have been endeavoring to foment trouble for the purpose of having their precious carcasses protected by a squad of negro militia. Such an act as the burning of a negro church would subserve their purpose admirably. In our judgment, it is more likelj that this congregation has been wounded m the house of its friends, than that the injury it received was inflicted by a white man. We have imdoubt, though, that Governor Scott has already entered it upon his memorandum as a great Ku Klux outrage, and that it will duly appear in the next swearing he does about the condition of the up-country. Since writing the above we have been able to gather a few facts which throw some light upon the burning of the church, and whioh, to a oertain extent, relieve the white citizens living in that neighborhood, of the odium attendant upon the commission of an act so senseless, ana so criminal. Pilgrim Church, for so it was called, was situated upon the highway leading from Chester to Union^ about twelve miles from the former place. For several years Sancho Sanders, colored, has officiated as preacher, only absenting himself while serving his countiy m the Convention of 1868, and then in the House of Representatives. Uncle Sancho, as he is caRed out there, has wielded, up to a short time back, a wonderful influence, Doth politically and religiously, over his brethren of color, in fact leading them wheresoever it pleased him. But, alas! Sancho was like a fish out of water in the Convention, and ditto in the Legislature. Rumors of his stupidity in the House, of his employing his time as a legislator in learning to write, and of many other things unbecoming a man of whose wisdom they had entertained the very highest opinion, come to the ears of his constituents, and his political influence began to diminish. The colored people mix up politics and religion to such an extent that what affects one of their number as a politician necessaril^affects him as a religious man, and vice versa. Hence, when Sancho began to lose prestige as a politician, he also began to lose prestige as a preacher. Out of his nock an opposition party was formed with one Lee Sanders, colored preacher, likewise, as its shepherd. Feelings of bitterness were soon engendered, resulting, as we have learned, previous to the burning of the church, in actual strife between the parties of Sancho and Lee. Carnal weapons on more than one occasion were displayed and perhaps used. Only a few days before the church was burned, we have been informed that threats were uttered by some of Sancho's party, that Lee Sanders should not preach there; whether that threat contemplated the extreme measure adopted we, leave it to the public to say. To us, taken in connection with the differences existing between the parties, it seems to be the most plausible version that can be given to the whole affair. We have at some length alluded to this matter, for feeling that the credit of the white citizens of Chester was at stake, we have used every means in our power to arrive at the truth, and now we give the result of our investigation to the public.?Chester Ren/iW/>r Onrtinsdnnt. HOW AN OLD FARMER WON A RACE. A Missouri paper (the Kansas City BvlUr tin) tells this story: The topic of cenversation to-day in sporting circles is the race of yesterday over Guinotte track. It is a story too good to keep; but out of pure sympathy for the lacerated feelings of a dozen gentlemen who thought they knew a thing or two about horses, we won't give the names of the sufferers. The race last Wednesday afternoon was attended by quite a number from this city and elsewhere. Among those present was an old and seedy-looking farmer from near Richraond, Ray county. Along the fence he had three lank, raw-boned horses tied. After the advertised race were concluded the aged agriculturist was bantered to put up some money on one of his 'plugs' and so help to get up a 'scrub raee.' He replied that he believed that animal?pointing to an old mare who stood with her head down and half asleep ?could run pretty tolerably well if she was 'trained.' "But," said he, "she's been hard at work all the spring and summer, and ain't fit to run now. While several men were trying to cajole the old fellow into a wager, another party slipped around to the rear of the stable, where stood 'Punch,' a very fleet goer for a race of three hundred yards. Punch is, in fact, one of the fastest racers for a short distance that is to be found in the State. The blanket was stripped from the nag, and an old rope halter, torn, bridle, and half worn saddle placed on him, and he was quietly led a short distance and tied to a fence. After considerable talk, the veteran son of the soil burst out with a proposition to bet it--, l.:., nmiU l,oof ?nv ntJior nrdi Llilit liiS illiliC VV/IUU WVMW ***V. v?? nary horse 011 the grounds. He was then taken to where Punch was tied, saw that the animal looked to be anything but a horse kept for racing, and expressed himself satisfied to run his mare against 'that air horse.' Then a dozen offers to put greenbacks against his old nag were offered. The farmer, wdio appeared to lose all his wits, took up the bets one after another, till hehadstaked $260 against an equal amount put up by several parties, in sums from $10 to $50. It was then agreed to postpone the race till yesterday afternoon. The 'sports' of this town rode back to the city in hi^h glee. They had a sure thing on that confiding old rustic, they thought, and indulged among themselves in all sorts of witticisms over his simplicity. When the time for the race occurred, the foolish farmer was promptly on hand. Again he was tempted to stake more money, and recklessly plunged down into the depths of his pockets after greenbacks, until he had wagered $1,500. Sums of $300 and less . amounts Had been staked by the 'knowing ones' of this town, who chuckled until the entirepile of the 'greenhorn' had been covered. The word to W was given amid the wild shouts and loud laughter of the backers of Tunch.' 'Go it, old sorreL' 'Hurry up that mare,' and other j erring expressions passed from mouth to mouth. The 'old sorrel' did just more than hurry up. She shot ahead of the racer 'Punch,' kept the lead easily, and came in the winner by forty feet LOCK* PICKING. The science of picking locks has been brought to such perfection, that no lock is now considered safe against the attacks of burglars. A Washington correspondent gives the following aocount of the ease with which the Treasury locks at Washington were picked by an expert: "An experiment made by consent of treasury officials aeveloDed the startling fact that there ; is not a lock In the Treasury Department that may not be picked with comparative ease. [Borne time ago Mr. A. B. Mullet, the Supervising architect, was informed by Mr. James Sargent, of Rochester, New York, that the combination locks adopted by the government and in general use, not only in the vaults at the treasury buildings and Banks throughout the country, could be opened with ease, without injuring the locks or attracting attention, and that he was ready at any time to prove this assertion. Mr. Mullet was doubtful, and he told Mr. Sargent to come on and try his experiment, and said one of Dodd's Eureka combination locks would first be submitted to his skill. In the meantime the country has been startled by some of the most daring robberies ever recorded, and bank vaults that were supposed to be burglar proof have been I opened with the greatest ease, and the public mind has been awakened to a sense of the insecurity of the locks of our public depositories. On Saturday Mr. Sargent arrived here and called upon Mr. Mullet to give him an illustration, not so much of his skill as a lock-picker as of the ease with which the "unpickable locks" in the Treasury could be opened, tie commenced operations on the safe used by Mr. Mullet, and in one hour and seven minutes, and without any noise, had the same access inlamAii t\f ilia aafa thai. Mr. MnlW IAJ Uig lalwuavt \u vuv umav vmmv had with his knowldge of the combination to which his lock was set. Gen. Spinner, the custodian of the funds, was notified of what had been done, and hastened to the room of Mr. Mullet, where Mr. Sargent again gave him proof of the insecurity of the locks. It is Gen. Spinner's custom to try every door of the vaults and safes of his office after office hours, and on Saturday, after Mr. Sargent's experiment, he spent a little extra time in examining the exterior mechanism of the different parts of the safe as he passed from room to -room. He will now have every lock thoroughly examined, and efforts will at once be made to secure some sort of a lock that will be burglar proof." Wearing Mourning.?We long for the day when this custom shall become obsolete. It is unbecoming the truly afflicted one. The wearer says, by the black garments, "I have lost a dear friend. I am in deep sorrow." But grief does not wish to parade itself before the eye of the stranger; much less does it assert its extent The stricken one naturally goes apart from the world to pour out the tears. Real affliction seeks privacy. It is no respect to the departed friend to say we are in sorrow. If we have real grief it will be discovered. When God has entered a household in the awful chastisement of death, it is time for religious meditation and communion with God on the part of the survivors. How sadly out of place, then, are the milliner and the dressmaker, the trying on of dresses and the trimming of bonnets. Sere ii something profane in exciting the vanity of a young girl m fitting a waist, or tiyin? on a hat, when the corpse of a father is lying in an adjoining room. It is a sacrilege to drag the widow forth from her grief to be fitted with a gown or select a veil. It is often terribly oppressive to the poor. The widow left desolate with a half dozen little children, the family means already reduced by the long sickness of the father, must draw on her scanty purse to buy a new wardrobe throughout for herself and children, throwing away the good stock of garments already prenared. when she knows not where she is to get firead for thoee little ones. Truly may fashion be called a tyrant, when it robs the widow of her last dollar. Surely your sorrow will not be questioned, even if you should not call in the milliner to h-jlp you display it Do not in your affliction uphold a custom which will turn the afflictions of your poorer neighbor to deeper poverty, as sorrow.?The Central Baptist. Better Than All.?Here is a fine eulogy upon the Bible from the pen of that masterly scholar, Sir William Jones. It was written npon a blank pace in his Bible, and also inserted in his eighth discourse before the Society for Asiatic researches. "The Scriptures contain, independently of a Divine origin, far more true sublimity, more exquisite beauty, purer morality, more important history, and finer strains both of poetry and eloquence, than could be collected, within the same compass, from all other books that were ever composed in any age or any idiom. The two parts, of which the Scriptures consist, are connected by a chain of compositions which bear no resemblance, in form or style, to any that can be produced from the Grecian, Indian, Persian, or even Arabian learning. The antiquity of these compositions no man doubts; and the unrestrained application of them to events long subsequent to the publication is a solid ground of belief that they were genuine . predictions, and, consequently, inspired." Fred Douglass, Jr., the Son-in-Law of the Professor!?The journals of the country are circulating the announcement of the marriage of Douglass, Jr., the nigger, to "the accomplished daughter of Professor A. Molyneaux Heatt, of Harvard-University." This sounds well, and carries the idea that the Pro feasor is a white man. Moiyneaux?for he is not known asHeatt?is a nigger who was one at one time loafing about the English manufacturing towns as a prizefighter; but low as arc the English bruisers, we believe a white man and the nigger never made up a prize match. . He was, however, picked up by some Harvard genius and brought over to give the students lessons in boxing, and his "professorship" simply embraces the art of punching the heads of the collegians during their term of study. Mrs. Fred. Douglass, Jr., is the daughter of this nigger prize fighter, who is in the pay of the Harvard boys, to teach tbem the use of the gloves, a sort of Professor of black eyes and bloody noses.?Day Boole. J^'Papa," said a boy, "ought the schoolmaster to flog me for what I did not do?" "Certainly not, my boy," replied the father. "Well," replied the little fellow, "he did it today when I did not do any sum."