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s LEWI?^;??IST'I ^ 111 Inkpfnknt /ainihi nctopptr: jfor % |lrotnotioit of % ftlitical, gotiai,^Igricnltural anb Commcrcxat fnttrets of iljt sontlj. 7"^ " VOL. 15. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1869. 3STO. 41. (the $tm idler. u ?? THE TWIN SISTERS. 4 "Well," said Ned Arlington, "for my par I have never loved but one woman, and she i now my letter half." "I tell you," replied a fellow stage eoaehcr "you have had an easy courtship. Now, I wa: compelled to love two ladies." "Two ladies?" "Yes, sir, two ladies." "But you did not love them both alike?" "Now, stranger, there was just the trouble I was thinking of this precise difficulty wher I remarked you had an easy courtship." "You puzzle me!" exclaimed Ned. "Sup pose you relieve our mind by a rehearsal." "It will afford me pleasure and you enter tainment," rejoined the handsome and social fellow traveler. Here we leaned forward, intent on hearing how a man was compelled to love two ladies with the same degree of fervor. "Mv friends," saitl he, "if you ever visii New llaven, Connecticut, you will hear these expressions: 'As much alike as the Grovei girls;' or this: 'You can no more distinguish i .1 . ii n / tt l tnem tium you can ten ^uc irom nannai: Grover.' I say, ladies and gentlemen, when a New Havener is discussing a point of similitude, he is sure to refer to the Grover girls I had not heen in the Elm city six weeks be fore I heard these comparisons. I went tc this place, intending to enter a business firm On my arrival I stopped at the Tontine. Al this hotel two gentlemen were arguing a poinl of law. It was then that I first heard thu language. One speaker was proving that twc expressions meant hut the same thing, and paralleled the two propositions with the noto rious twins. Now there is one thing I have in common with women?that is, curiosity. I own it, and will confess that I was on nettles. Never could I be appeased until I had a view of those females." "Tell me," said I to the book-keeper, "art these Grover girls so much alike?" "Are they?" said he, in surprise. "Well, I will tell you, Mr. Miller, if you can distin guish them after a week's acquaintance, I will pay your bill at this house for the balance oi your residence." "How can I see them?" "I'll tell you. Observe that bright-looking gent with the white hat. That is Mr. Potter, one of our rising lawyers. He is intimate with the sisters. Obtain an introduction to him, and he will see you-through." "Are these ladies of good standing?" i./M i t ? "un: among our nrst people. "Can Mr. Potter distinguish them ?" "Never, sir, never, and he looks with the eye of a detective." "How long has he known them ?" "Three or four years; to my certain knowledge. It may be longer." This determined me. I soon established myself with the lawyer by retaining him in an important case. I found him more than willing to afford the introduction, as he was anxious to see the fix their identity never failed to create in a stranger, I will never forget the first interview. Two exquisitely beautiful ladies of twenty entered the room. I beheld duplicates. One was the precise copy of the other. They dressed alike to a ribbon and a ring. Their voices and countenances gave no clue. Then, their motions left you none the wiser. .Said Potter: "Now take a good look, for I want you to see if you can identify them." "Mr. Potter," said I, "you will embarrass the ladies." "Not at all," said one. "We are used tc this," said the other. "It is the great amusement afforded by our resemblance," Here both spoke, but, upon my honor, it all sound ed like one voice. "Ladies," said I, "pardon me; I know yon are not horses, but allow me to look at youi teeth.?" I desired this, deeming there would be found some little speck, indentation, or irregularity that would serve as an index. They exhibited their pearly rows, but after minute investigation, I was no better informed. I examined the finger nails, then their hands, still I had no point of distinction, and I gave it up thai Sue and Hannah might forever exchange nlaces without detection on mv part. 1 ? A The ridiculous blunders of admirers wen frequent. Mantua-makers, shoemakers am trades people in general were continually pre senting Sue with an account created bv Han nab, or telling Hannah some lingo in tender only for the ears of Sue. The beauty of the ladies impressed me They were of mv style. An acquaintance o two months demonstrated their superiority ii all respects. In brief, I found myself in Iov< ?but with which one? When tender idea: arose, I found it just as natural to one as t( the other. Yes, I solemnly aver I was in lov< ?I had the connubial article. I frequently took them out, yet never knew whom I had If my lady would quote Sue, I thought it eleai I had Hannah, or if Hannah was mentioned I believed I was beauing Sue. Indeed it wa. a mere matter of faith. There was no evi deuce, for often one palmed herself on me a: the other. This was a chronic dodge, player on their various admirers to suit convenient** and ensure rest. As far as these gallants wen concerned, it was immaterial. Although oik might be called for by name, the other w<?uh do just as well, no one being able to detec the difference. I often implored them to con tradistinguish themselves by some article o apparel or jewelry, lint it was fruitless "That would spoil our fun," they would exclaim, as though I meditated some terrible in diction. As I have told you, I was in love. I fel that my happiness depended on the possessioi of one of these twins. But for whom shall :isk the parents ? Honestly, it was no matte which one I had, as affection made no choice On a lovelv eve in September, one siste was from home. Now, thought 1, here is i surety that I can talk a whole evening to on of tins dual phenomenon. As she entered th parlor, said I? "How do you do, Miss Hannah?" "You are wrong, sir, it is Miss Sue." "Are you humbugging?" "Truly no; I tell you sincerelv. You ar now addressing Sue drover." I saw that she looked unusually tender, am taking advantage of her faltering voice am tremulous manner, I declared my love; am she returned it with all the ardor of her trti and impassioned nature. 1 summoned the ol< folks: told our devotion: gave prospeets, am made all essential revelations. The senio drovers gave us their blessings, and assure* us that thev would see that our course of tru love "should run smooth." But what if the other girl were to come in What a pretty mix! How would 1 know m girl ? Though again 1 assure you it woul have made no difference. I would have pr< posed to Hannah just the same. My onl trouble was in the multitude of etnbarras monts incident to non-distinguishment. On this ground I had a genuine trouble. ( : Before Hannah returned, I invited Sue to take a walk on the green. When opposite the centre of the church, I spoke of the betrothal ^ ring, and requested her to please let nic see . the ring she wore. She took it off, and I care' lessly played with it to throw her off her 1 guard?then calling her attention to a party j ^ of students, took my Congress knife and drew . the file blade through the inner part. It left J a nice mark, and by this I hoped to identify ' her in future. On our return to the house I ! secretly posted her parents. They sni<l I did I properly?that it was time Sue should be re- ! " cognized by her affianced. "You think you are smart," said she ere I s left her. ! "Why?" replied I. \ "Oh!" responded she, "that ring game has I been tried by half a dozen admirers. I suspicioned what you were at, but thought I 1 r would see how many heads would conceive the ( ' same plan." 1 The next day neither she nor her sister ( , wore a ring. One week after, they resumed them; but in neither was there a mark. It 1 I was evident that I was to be out-generaled, 1 and would have to depend on the discretion \ 1 of my intended and the good tics of their pa1 rents J 1 At parties I had severe trials. I never , knew whom I took home, and even, when s home, would talk a flood of love to the wrong j girl and receive a laugh for my enthusiasm. "Hang it!" said 1; "the cream of the joke is r ^ ?I can't be revenged, for I might hurt the t wrong hdv." The betrothal ring was given. Now, thought t I, the.'e is a termination to my discomfiture, j I Well, it terminated tor just?twenty-four hours, Hannah took Sue's ring, went to a * jewel -y store and ordered oue precisely like it, y and bearing the same inscription. Moreover, t ! she charged the jeweller to sec that the en- j graving was counterfeited beyond recognition. It was done. So was I. Now what could I , do? Had Sue been willing, I could have j schemed forty devices. But she relished the j ? the dish, and would never co-operate. Wed- i ding came. I must take a young lady on the r word of herself or parents. "Well," said I j ' mentally, "so I get one of the girls my object y . will be accomplished." The ceremony was f performed before an immense throng in the * largest church in the city. The bridal dress fortunately enabled me to adhere to one. Con> gratulations being over, my bride and I jour' neyed to Niagara, and inspected several Cana- y ! dian cities and towns. 1 "Ah!" said I lovingly to my wife, "Sue, { darling, I will know you now." "How?" said t she. "By the diamond ring," replied I. ( "Don't be too sure, Clarence." "Ah !" laugh- x ed I, "Hannah will not annoy me any further." [ But alas for our earthlv hones. Mv beloved .. - - ^ - J 1 , told her sister the name of the New York ini- t porter, and 011 our return a small hand was j proffered, on which was a fac simile of the f bridal gift. Sue now went to her room, and j attiring herself in one of the twin garbs, I was ^ again unable to recognize my own wife. Now, a ladies and gentlemen, business suddenly called a me to New Orleans. While there my treasure ? died. I was grieved, yet from the fact that ] (Hannah lived, my agony was but temporary. I returned two weeks after the funeral. My sister-in-law wore neither betrothal or diamond t J rings. There was nothing to be gained by it, ^ and they were laid aside. My friends, I am , extremely sensitive; a mere child ; yet, believe ^ lme, when I tell you that the presence of Han- ' nah was a perfect and speedy restorative. It was impossible for me to weep. Was she not the same as Sue in all respects? True, when ' I saw the family sad, I was troubled, but only 011 account of their grief. T had none of ray j 1 own. All that I loved was in exact duplicate, 5 j and that moved before me as of yore. Yes. I ' 5 confess that no husband ever suffered less. ( In eighteen months 1 stood in the same t church, and it seemed before the same con[ course. As Hannah was given to me in the I j holy state of matrimony, it appeared that I j . j was enacting a farce and re-marrying my own j I WIFE. ^ i BAKNUM'S BRICK JIAN. j As an illustration of Barn urn's habit of;, [ I making everything tell to his account, he re- ^ t! kites the following anecdote: '"One morning a stout, hearty looking man t came into my ticket office at the Museum and t i begged some money. I asked him why he [ 1 did not work and earn his living? lie replied! - that lie could get nothing to do, and that he t -1 would he glad to get a job at a dollar a day. f 1 I handed him a quarter of a dollar, told him 1 I to go and get his breakfast and return, and I : . would employ him at light labor, at a dollar i f and a half a day. When he returned I gave 1 i i him five common bricks. < ) "Now," said I, "go and lay a brick on the I < sidewalk at the corner of Broadway and Ann ( ) street; another close by the Museum ; a third i 3 diagonally across the way at the corner of t Broadway and Vesey streets, by the Astor 1 .1 House; put down the fourth on the sidewalk i r in front of St. Paul's church, opposite; then, 1 ' with the fifth brick in hand, take up a rapid 1 s march from one point to the other, making j . the circuit, exchanging your brick at every i 1 point, and say nothing to any one." lj "What is the object of this?" inquired lheii j man. : "No matter," I replied; "all you need to 1 2 know is that it brings you fifteen cents an i I hour. It is a bit of my fun ; and to assist me 1 t properly, you must seem to be as deaf as a i - post; pay no attention to any one, but attend ! f faithfully to the work ; and at the end of ev? < . cry hour, by .St. Paul's clock, show this ticket i - at the Museum door, enter, walking solemnly - through every hall in the building; pass out, and resume your work." I tj "With the remark that it was 'all one to i i him, so long as he could earn his living,' the < II man placed his brick and began his round. ; r Ilalt an hour attcrwarusat iea>i live iiuuurcu ; people were watching his movements. 1 le 1 r: had assumed a military stepand hearing, and, j 41 looking as sober as a judge, he made no re- I e spouse whatever to the constant inquiries as to ? c the object of his singular conduct. At the i end of the first hour the sidewalks in the vi- I cinity v.ere packed with people, all anxious to solve the mystery. The man, as directed, ) then went into the Museum, devoting fifteen ! e minutes to a solemn survey of the halls, and i afterwards returning to his round. This was 1 repeated every hour till sundown, and when- i 1 ever he went into the Museum, a dozen or : .1 more persons would buy tickets and follow i e him, hoping to gratify their curiosity in reIjgard to the purpose of his movements. This I i was continued for several davs?the curious r people who followed the man into the Museum < 1 considerably more than paying his wages?till e finally the policeman, to whom I had imparted my object, complained that the obstruction ! of tin- sidewalk by crowds had become so sc- < y rious that 1 must call in my'brick man'. This d trivial incident excited considerable talk and >- amusement: it advertised me, and it materiy ally advanced my purpose of making a lively -- corner near the Mu-euni.'' JjgrioiMml ?qrattmcttt. Friitii the Kuml Carolinian. DAVID DICKSON & IMPROVED FARMING. David Dickson, undoubtedly the best and most successful planter in Georgia, if not in Llic whole South, is of English descent, and was born in Hancock County, Ga., July Gth, 1809. His father, Mr. Tlios. Dickson, was a native ?f Virginia,served in the Revolutionary army, ind soon after the close of the "War of Independence removed to Georgia, where he died in 1827, at the age of a littleover seventy years. [lis wife, the mother of the subject of this >kctch, was horn in North Carolina in 1777, m<l survived her husband many years, dying n 18114, at the age of about eighty-seven years. Mr. Dickson, therefore, comes of a ong-lived stock, and inherited from his parents what has been of more value to him, and ontributed more to his success than the largest fortune could have done?an excellent (institution and a strong, well balanced brain ?a sound mind in a healthy body. Beyond :his he received little, his share of the paternal property amounting to only 81,200. His jducational advantages were quite limited, but lis clear, comprehensive, intellect, his close ibservation, and the best use of his opportunties for reading and study, have enabled him :o acquire a stock of practical knowledge, such as few with better early advantages can loast. Mr. Dickson commenced his business-life as i small country trader. In 183b lie entered nto partnership with Colonel Thos. M. Turler, and opened a store in Sparta, Ga., where hey were successful; doing a heavy country justness, which they continued to push with jreat energy for five years. In 1846, having finally closed his mercantile jusincss and made nil the necessary preparaions, Mr. Dickson returned to the place where le was born?his father's old homestead?and ommcnccd farming with a capital of $25,000, icquired in trade. When the war broke out lis property was valued at ?500,000, all made n planting. His plantation in Hancock and Washington Counties (adjoining) comprises tbout 15,000 acres, and he owns another of [3,000 acres in Texas. These figures speak 'or themselves, and indicate a degree of energy, skill, and forethought which few possess, md without which such grand results could lot have been reached in any branch of busi1css. In person, Mr. Dickson is above the medium might, well formed, stout and robust. His romplexion is fair, fresh and ruddy, and the rxpression of his countenance grave, serious, houghtful and benevolent, with a vein of piiet humor, however, underlying the whole, eminding one of the best type of the Quaker, hough he is not a member of that respectable md jieaceful sect. He is plain in his dress, mpretending in his manners, speaks his mind rcely and without fear or favor, and has very lecided opinions on most questions of general ntcrest. He looks younger than the figures ve have given show him to be, and has all the ictivitv and energy of a man of fortv years of igc. Long may he live to teach the South, >oth by precept and example, his system of mproved Farming. >ir. dickson's plantation. During the first week in August last, with lie interests of the Jlural Carolinian and its ifty thousand prospective readers in view, we made a brief visit to Mr. Dickson's plantation, ituatcd on the Little Ogcechce Itiver, in Hanrock County. From the beautiful little town of Sparta, a Irivc of nine or ten miles, through a pleasant oiling country, the wooded portions of which iresentea a mixed growin ni pine, oax ana lickory, brought us to Mr. Dickson's homeitend. The soil of the country through which ve passed, like the forest growth, is of a mix d character, red clay and gray sand alternaing. We passed several neat, well cultivated ilautations, which seemed to indicate that Mr. Dickson's precept and example had not ieen without their influence. Cotton was lore, as we had observed it elsewhere during >ur journey, the principal crop. Those who hink our ancient king has been deposed arc jreatly in error. He yet lives and reigns in pitc of war, emancipation and "reeonstrueion." As we approach Mr. Dickson's plantation he soil loses its mixed character, the land be oming what is called gray, and the forest growth being mainly long-leaved pine. On entering the plantation we observed hat the gates and fences were all in a servicetble condition, and that there was that undeinablc air of thrift about the place too generillv lacking among us. Between the main oad and the house we passed a large eornicld?the large-t and the best we had seen luring our journey. It was good corn, hut :he condition of the field slightly disappointhI us. It was not free from grass, ami had tot been worked in the most skilful manner. We afterwards learned that it was rented to reed men whom Mr. Dickson had not been ible to induce to do the work just right; so ivhen we referred to the field as the best we lad seen, he said that it ought to have been a jreat deal better, and that he would not own t as a specimen of his farming at all. We met Mr. Dickson at the house?a very modest cottage, such as you may see on many i small farm in Georgia or South Carolina, ivith nothing remarkable or pretentions about t in any way. Everything for use and comfort, and nothing for show is evidently the rule. The farm buildings and negro quarters ire more likelv to attract attention than the Iwelling, as they are decidedly better than ire usual I v seen. A MODEL COTTON-FIELD. The first thing that attracted our special attrition as we approached the cotton-field was its smoothness of surface?the entire absence if those ridges and hills, made by the plow ind the hoe, which mark the rows in our fields generally. The next noticeable peculiarity was its perfect cleanness. No fringe of crab rrass and no straggling weeds were t?> be seen. Sir. Dickson does not attempt to make a crop if cotton and a crop of grass on his land at the same time. The cotton was a sight worth [raveling all the way front Charleston to see. We had seen nothing like it during our journey. Some small patches 011 town lots in Sparta and elsewhere could show plants quite ns tall perhaps, but the pre-eminence of Mr. Dickson's cotton lies in its stalky growth, its numerous heavy branches?and, above all, in its prolific fruitage?the lull* and aquare*clustering thickly in double rows upon the branches. "I do not cultivate cotton for the weed," Mr. Dickson remarked, "but for the bolls." There had been a severe drouth, and much of the cotton we had seen elsewhere had shed leaves, squares and bolls to a greater or less extent, hut here we observed 110 loss of this kind, the plants being fresh, healthy and vigorous from bottom to top. I11 brief, here was cotton that promised a yield of'two bales to the acre; and it was not 011 rich bottom land, but on what people arc pleased to call a "pine barren"?not a fresh pine barren cither, hut land that lias been under cultivation for scr enty years, and was so poor and worn out when Mr. Dickson bought it, we were told, that no one else would have it at any price. With these facts in view, one begins to appreciate the results of his improved system of farming. The field of which we have been speaking will, under Mr. Dickson's cultivation, produce forty bushels of com to the acre, and his corn crop never fails! No drouth bums it up. "I can tell in the spring," Mr. Dickson said, "where the dry streak will fall in summer. It always follows bad farming." The "dry streak" never falls on his corn-field. We shall see why when we come to examine his mode of planting and cultivating corn. w n miirlif enn<ilr nt rrrpfitor lnncrtb nf v- b. what wc saw and heard during our brief visit to Mr. Dickson's plantation, but what our readers are most interested in learning is, how the results we have described are attained. Mr. Dickson is successful. He makes heavy crops on poor land. He has acquired wealth by planting. Every planter and farmer, it is presumed, would like, to be and do the same, and each is anxious to know how the thing is done. Jin. dickson's system. We can tell our readers, in brief, how Mr. Dickson farms, but we cannot ensure every man who may essay to follow his example, the same success. Few possess his intellectual capacity, his sound judgment or his executive abilities; but all may improve and approach, if they cannot reach, Mr. Dickson's high position among the great agriculturists of the present day. The principal points in Mr. Dickson's system, as they struck lis in our examination of his operations, are; 1. A deep and thorough preparation of the soil. 2. The liberal use of manures. 3. Level and shallow cultivation. 4. Rotation of crops. 5. Economy of labor. Do you say that there is nothing new in all .1 O Ti_. 1 j. T i.1 a"! ' 1 mis r remaps nor. in tneory me principles which underlie the system have, in the main, been long since accepted by the best informed agriculturists of Europe and America; but our practice, with few exceptions, has been diametrically opposed to them, as will more strikingly appear when we look at the matter somewhat in detail. First, then, in regard to the preparation of the soil. Mr. Dickson's maxim is, "plow as deep as yon can," or say from eight to fifteen inches and subsoil every fourth year, accumulating all the vegetable matter you can on the surface to be turned in. Land thus prepared admits the air, holds moisture and allows the roots of plants to penetrate deeply, and thus ensure themselves against drouth. Do our farmers generally prepare their soil in this way, or make any approximation to it? in the second place, everybody knows that manure is a very good thing for growing crops, but we go on, year after year, planting without manure, or with very little of it. Mr. Dickson, knowing that manure, judiciously applied, will pay, uses it freely. But what kind of manure, and how much? In the first place he returns everything to the land (after being eaten or used) which he has taken from it, except the lint of the cotton, and, in addition, gathers leaves, pine straw, and the scrapings of vamps, and digs muck to spread in his stock yards and to scatter broadcast over his lands. Then lie makes up the required amount ef the fertilizing elements by the application of a concentrated compound composed of Peruvian guano, dissolved bones, common salt, and land plaster in equal proportions by weight, mixing the ingredients himself. Of this compound he has used this season, if we mistake not, about 800 pounds to the acre (except 011 rented land) at a cost, probably, of not far from $25 per acre. Is such manuring an old thing?in practice, we mean?among our planters and farmers? HOW IIE PLANTS COTTON AND CORN. Tint if 1 111 fli/i *il ct ?i f ?11 n ti/1 f? /ll VllC iJUt it 111 tnvy tinting auu lvt/in-ing ut itto crops that Sir. Dickson's practice differs more strikingly from that of most planters. Let us see how he does it: 1. Cotton.?He makes the rows four feet apart, opening with two furrows a trench about eight inches deep. Into this deep furrow the manure is scattered and covered with a scooter plow, going about as deep as the other two furrows, and followed, on each side of the scooter furrow, by a turn-plow running seven inches deep. He opens the seed furrow with a bull tongue plow, drops the seed thickly and covers lightly with a board. The plowing is done with the famous Dickson sweep, running shallow?the last plowing not more than half an inch deep?and the plowing and hoeing is repeated as often as is necessary to keep the ground perfectly clean, but the soil is not heaped itp about the cotton norr the roots cut bij cither ploiu or hoe. When the crop is "laid by" the ground is nearly level and smooth. 2. Corn.?The land being broken up at least eight or nine inches deep and sub-soiled if practicable, he lays off furrows, with a long shovel plow, seven feet apart; then, commencing at the opposite end, he opens out the furrow with a longer shovel plow, leaving the furrow open seven or eight inches deep. Whatever manure he uses is deposited in this furrow, three feet apart, and the corn dropped three or four inches from the manure. He covers with a light harrow one and a half inches deep. Observe that we have here deep planting, but not deep covering. He gives his com three thorough workings, keeping the field clean and free from grass, and planting a row of peas l>etween each two rows of corn. The details of his cultivation we intend to give at a future time. It is sufficient to say here that the same principle of shallow plowing is applied to corn as to cotton. There is no hilling up, but a smooth, 1UVU1 ^UllUL'U. Docs not the reader now see why Mr. Dickson's corn never sutlers seriously from any ordinary drouth ? Having for several years planted corn on a similar plan, though not quite so dee]), we can add our own testimony, were any further evidence needed, in favor of deep planting and shallow cultivation. Mr. Dickson's rotation in cropping his land is: First year, Cotton; Second year, Corn; Third year, Small Grain ; Fourth year, the land lies fallow The resting of the land allows it to accumulate humus or vegetatle matter, which may he increased by planting peas, (or clover, where it will succeed,) to be turned in at the proper time. It would not seciu very difficult to follow Mr. Dickson thus far, so as to keep within sight of him at least, hut when we come to what we have called Economy and Labor, there are brought into play certain natural gifts with which few are so largely endowed as he. "The farmer must make every stroke tell," Mr. Dickson says, and he does make every stroke tell. Not satisfied with increasing the productive capacity of the soil, he develops also, and still more wonderfully, the productive capacity of the laborer. Tliis he accomplishes hv using improved implements: by time and labor-saving modes of working, and, more than all, we think, by his peculiar talent for training and managing the laborer himself. This peculiar trait is most strikingly illustrated by the fact that under the old system, when labor was perfectly under control, he was accustomed to cultivate thirty-three acres to the hand, while other planters, as a rule, cultivated only fifteen ; and to accomplish this he employed no overseer or driver. Such is Mr. Dickson's farming. A general adoption of his methods, with only an approximation to his executive efficiency, would at once more than double the j)roducts of the South, and at the same time increase, year by year, instead of diminishing the fertility of the soil. |p5f*nflttr0tt5 fUMiag. AMONG TIIE MORMONS. Brigham Young's seraglio is a subject of great interest to strong-minded femininity. They are all anxious to get a peep into the inside working of that mysterious household. They approach it tremblingly, as though it were a den of wild beasts, and few have ventured within the perilous precincts. A French woman?Madame Olympe Audonard?who doesn't stand upon trifles, was the first who dared to cross the magic threshold. She, last year, crossed the ocean and braved all the discomforts of the overland route, before the Pacific Railroad was completed, to sate her curiosity by looking with her own eyes upon the wonders of the New Jerusalem. She saw and returned, and though she professed to disclose what she saw, there was an air of constraint about her revelations as if she had been put under some kind of bonds not to be indiscreet in her talk. The point which seemed to impress her most?or at least of which she spoke most?was the existence of a state of society which had extinguished jealousy in the female bosom. She could not account for it, and instead of condemning or approving, abandoned herself to wondrous musings. Rcccntlv Miss Annn. Dickinson, otic of the ".strong minded" women of America, has profited by the safe return of the fearless French woman, and has adventured within the fearful region. In a public lecture, she has been giving the San Francisco people an account of what she saw and what she heard. It appears she was not as favorably impressed with the wise man of Utah as the Queen of Sheba was with King Solomon. She confesses that at one time the degrading scenes she saw made her wish to die; but she thought better of it, and concluded it would be more wise to reform the evils that had so much affected her. We quote some extracts from Miss Anna's lecture: SODOM. It was at the close of a lovely day in June, one of those grand evenings on the plains, that I saw them stretching their golden expanse away as far as the eye could reach, and saw that sapphire sea reflecting the sapphire sky above, and, away off from the city, those grand mountains with the ever gleaming brilliant snow shining above them all; while amid all this glowing scene lay that plague spot? Salt Lake City?a foul blot, on Nature's face, a whitened sepulchre without; and within, what? A beautiful town, indeed, it is, with its broad, cool, clean streets; with its little streams of water in all their mountain freshness and icy coolness, so pure and clear that, paradoxical as it may seem to you, one can stoop down and get a most refreshing drink of the purest water from the gutter itself. With its picturesque scenery, its beautiful buildings, its little adobe huts and all, it is a beautiful city in the desert, a lovely and pleas ant spot to come and least one's eyes with after a journey across the arid wastes. "By their fruits ye shall know them," said the Master of old, and by its fruits ye shall know Mormonism, and whether what you see at Salt Lake City is any better or any worse than what is to be seen any day in San Francisco or New Yyrk. True, in Salt Lake there is no noise, no drunkenness, no gambling, no riots, but order and quiet day and night. There are no churches save one, and what a one is that. The children you see playing in the streets are debased, wretched, unhealthy-looking, bearing in their countenances the impress' of the most brutal passions of men. a mormon family?mr. smith and the mrs. smith. I called at a house there, and I sat down in the parlor, and in came a man and a woman, "Miss Dickinson, my wife, Mrs. Smith," and in came another woman, "my wife, Mrs. Smith," and in come another, "my wife, Mrs. Smith,"?[laughter,] and so on through a whole lot of them, all "my wife, Mrs. Smith and not one of these women came in as the happy wife or mother, or as the mistress of that home, but all slunk in with a debased servile air, looking like tolerated slaves rather than anything else. One of them told me that she had six children, another that she had twelve, and another that she had fifteen? [laughter,] and half of all them were dead, and I looked at the other half, and when I saw the wretched, unhealthy creatures, I cried: "My God, the hand of death is on them, too." brigilvm's theatre. I went to the theatre. I expected to be disgusted, but I was more than that. There were women all around me, and I would sec one man here and another there, and each bending over ten or fifteen women, and I was told they were his wives; and as I looked around and saw these women and their degradation, such a sense and feeling of shame and despair came over me that I cried: "Oh! God, let me die where I stand," and then the second thought came, and I said: "Oh! 110; let me not die, for that would be cowardly, indeed, but give me strength to withstand and do battle against this." NAUGHTY OEXTILK VISITORS. I came out to Salt Lake City with the best men in the country?men whom the country delights to honor and reverence?and, as we all knew we were coming to Salt Lake City, we naturally talked a great deal about it, and what do you think was the tenor of these men's conversation ? Why, after I had listened for some time, I thought I should pray for deafness or cotton to put in my ears. They thought Mormouism a fine institution ; it must be a jolly placo where u man can have a dozen or two wives and yet be respectable. It must be jolly to live in a place where divorces can be had for five dollars, and where, if you get tired of your wife, you can take a pretty little Mormon and no one can say a word to you. Nice conversation for respectable men, and all of them married but two, and they were the best behaved of the lot. "Oh! it was only a joke." Well, suppose it was only a joke. Supposing a lot of respectable married women were to talk in the cars and say, "Oh! it is a fine institution, Mormonism. You can have a dozen husbands, and get divorced any time you want for five dollars. When you get tired of your husband you can get rid of him, shove him to one side and get the best looking young Mormon you can find." Now, what would people think who heard them speaking that way, even "if it all was a joke ?" Why, they would think them women who were lost to all sense of dignity and honor. EASTERN SPEECH-MAKERS. When I got to Salt Lake City they were serenading. It wasn't me they were doing it to?[laughter]?but they were serenading some of the bijr-wics that had come along; and theu tIio.se "respectable" men got out and made speeches. Such speeches! They didn't know I was listening to them, but we women hear a great deal more, and are sharp enough to be awake a great deal oftener, when anythiug is going on, than we get credit for. I was at my window listening to them, and there I heard one honorable Congressman and well known representative stand up and pledge himself, and pledge his companions, to do their utmost to support and care for the interests of these people. AT BRIGHAM'8TAHERNACLE?A WELL KNOWN CLERGYMAN AMONG THE MORMONS. I went into the Tabernacle, and I expected to be disgusted there, too, and I was. There, seated in the midst of a lot of "elders," was a reverend gentleman, a well-known and much talked-of-divinc, with a white necktie, the Rev. Thomas Todd, and while I was there this most reverend gentleman stood up, and made a speech, and told a little story, in which, if lie didn't directly illustrate it, at any rate he gave the inference that Mormons were just as eligible for heaven as any one else. And all this was just a type of how the world outside treat of Mormonism and gloss over its abuses. SLAVERY OF MORMON WOMEN. I asked why, and simultaneously with the question came the answer, and I saw why. In this second Sodom?this Salt Lake City?is sanctioned openly what is tolerated in San Francisco and New York. The idea is nothing more than this : that woman is man's property all over the world, his to hold and to keep, she to be humble and to serve, and he to be indisputable lord and master, I stand here to say to you to-night, to you men who listen fn mr> tlmf n u'nmnn iu inst n>i individual and lu "J"> ?? " *?**? "J J?"> ? " ?? responsible and capable of action for herself as a man. I stand here to enter my protest as a woman against such a blasphemy as this: "that woman is made for a man," "that she is his property, goods and chattels"that beside him she is nothing?a myth." That is what is being thundered from every pulpit in every city, what every newspaper in the land says, and every man. Woman is to abject herself, debase herself, humble herself, and lose all her individuality, and if she rebels, society will only increase her miser}'. Men want to control in everything; they want to be the masters of all. They have always had the muscle and the force, and now they want to revive the old brutality, the old serfdom and tlavery that characterizes barbarous and uncivilized people. INSIDE OF A HAREM. In Salt Lake City I went to the house of a Mormon elder. I was told beforehand he had two wives, and that they had both lived together some fifteen years, and were perfectly happy and contented?they lived together in their house, and were perfectly contented with their lot, and would not change it if they could. I was not a man. I did not believe a word of it, and so I went to see for myself. I went into their house, and it was a magnificent one. Here, in .San Francisco, it would be a fine house, and there, in Salt Lake, it was a splendid one. Magnificent furniture, fine rooms, fine gardens, and numerous servants. I and my friends sat down in the parlor, and in came one of the man's wives. She was a fine, goodlooking, healthy English woman, who could not speak ten words of grammatical English to save her life. I talked freely to her, there was no hindrance to that. I asked her how long she had been married. "Seventeen years." "Mnrripd hprp"Nn." "Mflrripd in Entr land?" "No." "Where were you married, then?" "In St. Joseph." Her husband began to fidget, and sent her out to get a piece of gold, or quartz, or something of that kind. I understood it all. She came back, and could not find it, of course. I knew that. I tried to commence where we had broken off', and her husband immediately wanted something 011 the top of the house. When she got back again, I tried to commence again where >,e had left off", and he broke in, "Miss Dickinson came to eat strawberries and cream; now, Maria, go off and see if they are ready." I understood it all. Yes, every word of it. By and by in came another sad looking but handsome woman. I looked at her; said I at once, , | "Madam, you are the second wife," and so it turned out. She, also, was an English woman, and the two of them were the handsomest wo- ( men I saw at Salt Luke. But she appeared sad and worn. There was no "joyous nappiness of married life" about her. There was a j piano in the room, and in came the little girl of the house, and at once the father said some- , thing about music, and was evidently very proud of his daughter's capabilities in that line. So I asked her to play, and she did, and made a horrid din, ana, under the cover : of the noise and din, I had my conversation < with the wife. She had not understood their doctrines. I asked her: "Did you know when you married your husband that he could, if i lie would, marry another woman ?" "No." "Did he not tell you so at the time ?" "No, lie did not. Our missionaries and preachers when they go out never preach that." "So you knew nothing of it ?" "Nothing at all." ( "But when you came here and saw it was so, , were you not greatly disappointed and chagrined ?" "No, I was not; I was sure my hus- ( band would never marry again." "But he did," said I. "Yes," she answered, and a sad, harrowed look came over her countenance. "Yes, only a year after he married again." "And do you like that? Do you like him to have more wives than one V "Oh! yes, I do ! , I wish he had six or seven." I saw through j it all in a minute. I understood the state of ' that woman's mind at once. But I was not j surprised. I looked blank and I went back , on the old track. I commenced and ques- j i.- 1 1 1 ,1 1:0. iirnl T nolnt. LlUIieU Ilfl ilUUlll I1C1 XJU^llOU AllC) auu a jsi*xaav- j ed the picture of the little cottage at home j and the courtship, and at last the marriage to j one whole-souled, holiest husband; and how j they would live together, and how she would ( wait at the door of their home and watch for his coming in the evening; and I asked her j if she could not be happy there. And she ( put her handsome hand to her face, bowed her : head and cried, "Oh! my God! couldn't J!" j And then it was plain, it was easy to see, how j that woman really thought and felt. SIDE-SADDLES DENOUNCED. Miss Dickinson's lecture was a very long i one. She spoke for almost two hours, and the I resume we have given above is not one-tenth ] of what she said. She gave a description of < her tour to the Yosemite Vallev, and com- i mented very severely on the "ridiculous side- 1 saddle mode of riding" that society had im- i posed 011 her sex, and said she knew what she 1 was talking about. She had tried both ways j and she could ride with ease in the masculine style. The side-saddle styles was very typical : of the mode in which women go through the world : it is a one-sided style all through ; one side worn out and one side cramped and dulled from want of ust. She concluded her lecture at ten minutes past ten o'clock, amid loud applause. The Deacon's Trial.?A few years ago, there lived on the out-skirts of a pretty village in New Hampshire, an old farmer who was known among his neighbors as "Deacon Stubbs." In early life the deacon had been rather wild, and it was only when somewhat advanced in years that he was converted from the error of his ways under the ministrations of good old Parson Brown. From that time Stubbs had been a zealous and exemplar}' member of the village church. But the deacon had one sore trial of his patience. Old Brindle, the best cow of his small herd, was woefully given to kicking. Many a time, aftpr flip rtonr>r?n Vinrl npnrlv fillp/1 Viis t.lirpp crnl Ion pail with rich milk from her full udder, a sharp, quick motion of her right hind leg would send pan and contents flying half-way across the barn-yard. The deacon had tried coaxing, he had tried kicking, and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would break that cow of her bad tricks. One fine morning in June, just as the sun was peeping over the Eastern hills, Stubbs sat down upon his three-legged stool to milk old Brindle. Everything went on well; the animal stood perfectly quiet, and the deacon began to hope that he would have no more trouble with her. The pail was almost full, the creamy froth already overtopped the brim, when, whiz! the cow raised her foot, the pail was upset in an instant, and its lacteal treasures scattered far and wide. "I swear!" exclaime the deacon, with emphasis. Springing to his feet he seized a heavy stick and belabored the poor cow with all his might. As the blows fell thick and fast a shower of oaths, such as he had not uttered before since he "jined the church," issued from the deacon's mouth. Desisting at length from his exercise, he was thunderstruck, 011 raising his eyes, to behold his own minister, Parson Brown, looking over the fence within six feet of him, with hands uplifted and face ghastly with horror. "Why Parson Brown, I?I?" stammered the deacon. "Deacon Stubbs!" groaned the Parson, "I am shocked, I am grieved, to hear such profane language from a member of' my church!" The deacon humbly confessed his fault, and expressed the greatest contrition for his fall from grace. "But," he added, "but Parson Brown, I am persuaded that I shall never enjoy religion as long as I keep that cow." ? ? The story of Cinderella is familiar to every one, and yet there are few that treasure it up as in any respect true. But it has a foundation and a reality that really need no fairy godmother, with her pumpkin and her rata, to make an entertaining tale. It is as follows: "In about the year 1730, a French actor by the name of Thevenard lived in Paris. He was rich and talented but he had no wife, and we may believe he had never loved any one, but gave all his affection to those ideal characters that he could represent so finely on the stage. One day as he was walking leisurely along the streets of Paris, he came upon a cobbler's stall, and his eye was attracted by a dainty little shoe which lay there waiting for repairs. His imagination began immediately to form the little foot that must fit such a little shoe. He examined it well, but only to admire it more and more. He went to "the stall of the cobbler again but could learn nothing with regard to the owner of the shoe. This only increased his egerness, and made him more d jtermined to know to whom it belonged. Hay by day he was disappointed, but he was not discouraged. At last the little foot needed the little shoe, and Thevenard met the owner, a poor girl, whose parents belonged to the humblest class. But the ardent actor thought not of caste or family. His heart had already pronounced the little one his wife. He married the girl, with no question of what people would say, and felt joy enough in hearing the tread of the light, nimble feet through his silent rooms, to pay him for the sacrifice of people's approval. This is the true story of Cinderella, and from which the child-romance sprang." Ecclesiastical Nomenclature.?-They have funny names for some of their Churches in New York. The Unitarian Church in Fourth Avenue is variously known as "Beefsteak Church," the "Church of the Holy Zebra," and the "Church of the Holy Gridiron," all because the walk are built of alternate stripes of brick and marble. The Dutch Reformed Church, corner Fifth Avenue and Twenty-ninth-street. The weather-wane on the spire is a large metalic gilt rooster, which turns his tail from every gale. Hence it is called the "Church of the Holy Shanghai." Mr. Jay Cook, it is, said, has recently built a small Episcopal Chapel at Put-In-Ikiy, on Lake Erie, near his elegant residence there. A statement has appeared in several newspapers that this building, at its dedication, is to be named the "Church of the Holy FiveTwenties." In Twenty-ninth street is the Protestant Episcopal Church of the Transfiguration. This is a long, low, straggling edifice, surrounded by trees. It is extensively known as the "Church of the Holy Grasshopper," and also of the "Holy Cucumber Vine. A suggestive name is also applied to a Church in Brooklyn, near Congress-street, in Clinton. A Unitarian congregation worships there. The Church is low roofed, nearly circular, and is painted a dark sombre color; hence its very unfortunate nickname, the "Church of the Holy Mud Turtle." Hammering Iron Until it ls Red Hot. In his lectures on "heat," delivered recently at the London institution, Mr. G. F. Rodweil alluded to a singular case of motion transformed into heat; namely, the rendering of iron red-hot bv repeated strokes of the hammer. If Mr. Rodwell, who is so well versed [n the history of science, will turn once more to the works of Robert Boyle, he will see that this "father of chemistry" had notions of the ;ransformation of mechanical movement into aeat verymearly akin to, if not quite identical with, those professed at the present day. Robert Boyle alludes to the rapid development of heat in an iron nail by repeated blows )f the hammer after it had ceased to travel into the wood. It has been asked whether iron could be hammered cold until it becume red hot. Mr. Rodwell informs us that it can. Having requested a blacksmith to try the experiment, a piece of very tough iron was hammered with a moderately heavy hammer; it became hot, but would not scorch a piece of paper. It was then hammered by two men, me of them used a sledge hammer, but with ao better result. Presently a man, who was working in the shop, said he had often lit his forge fire by this means before matches were plentiful. He took a nail, such as is used for horse-shoes, and, after hammering for less than two minutes with a light hammer, part of the nail was brought to a bright red neat. The blows were light but frequent, and the nail was partly turned at each blow.