Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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4 I U! g 1 "' , 1 I . ""^W*?^gggB5?ggg^^gg LEWis^ M.^QRIST, | ^n gnkptakitt Jamilg jttbspapcr: Jar % fnrmotitm of % foltthl, Sacral, ^grfatltaral anb Commcrttal fitotsta nf % gontj}, T .t''.^!?.Ilgi^1111' VOL. 15. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23, 186^.7-~r NO. 51. , ifi'i ?? Ibe ?ten IrUef. THE FRENCH DETECTIVE. BY JAMES M'CABE. Eugene Laromie had passed through some wonderful adventures in the exercise of his profession, and had been nearer death than most men cared to be. His success in ferreting out and bringing to light crimes of nil kinds had won for"him the oitter enmity of all the offenders, both political and criminal, in the city. They had repeatedly vowed vengeance against him, for they declared that there were no chances of success for them while he remained in Paris. Laromie only laughed at their threats, and kept his wits about him. He declared his read'ness to meet them whenever they desired it, provided only they would grant him fair play. This, however, was the last thing they intended doing. They had fired at him frequently without success, and had been equally unlucky with their attempts at poisoning. They had gotten up mock conspiracies, with the hope of decoying him into their power; but he saw through them in an instant, and only laughed at his enemies for their trouble. Still they had not abandoned the hope of capV.im onrl if woa vprv nprfftin if t.hev bumxg mui, ? j succeeded in doing so, Mr. Laromie's fate was sealed. One day he was lounging idly near one of the most noted shops of the Palais Royal, when a woman passed by. She was very beautiful, and was richly and tastefully dressed. She was evidently a lady, and decidedly one of the most beautiful the detective had ever seen. As she passed, she looked at him fixedly and then smiled. Instantly Laromie lifted his hat and bowed profoundly. When he raised his eyes again the lady had disappeared. He was annoyed at this, for he was anxious to learn something of the beautiful stranger, and from the smile she had given him, he knew that she was no ways averse to such a proceeding. Laromie was a true Frenchman in his love of gallantry, and this was the only thing that ever brought him into any real danger. Sev1 1 A + erai times ne umi unrruwij eou?peu umw at the hands of jealous husbands, and his friends were confident that if ever he died by violence, a woman would be the cause of it During the day he could not help thinking of the beautiful unknown who hau so fascinated him. The next morning about the same hour, he went again to the Palais Royal to watch for her. He was not long kept waiting. She soon appeared, and as she passed, smiled. The smile was accompanied by a bow. Acting upon a sudden impulse, Laromie started forward and placed himself by her side. She interrupted his attempt to speak, saying: "We are observed?to-night, at the opera." "One word, madarae," he exclaimed, "to whom have I the honor of speaking?" She laughed slightly, and handing him a card, said: "Go now. I will see yon to-night at the opera." Laromie bowed low and drew back, while * > J ? ?~<1 a xl J tne laay passea on. vnaucuig ai me etuu sue had given him, he saw written on it in a delicate Land, "Julie de Noel"; but whether it was Madame or Mademoiselle (Mrs. or Miss) the pasteboard did not state ana the detective did not care. He only knew that she was a most beautiful woman and that she had consented to grant him an interview. "Who knows," muttered Laromie, twitching his moustache, absently, "what may come of it? She is superb. But how the deuce did she learn my name? Well, it is not ^ strange. Every one in Pari3 has heard of >> me. In Paris, when one wishes to learn anything respecting any inhabitant of the great city, he can be satisfied by applying to the chief of the police. To the office of his chief, Laromie now bent his steps upon an errand of this kind respecting the lady he had just parted from. In answer to his inquiries, the chief consulted a ponderous ledger, and after a brief inspection declared there was no such person in Paris. "What is it, Laromie?" he asked, "public business, or an assignation?" "Oh, merely a little affair of my own," said Laromie, laughing, , "Take care, my friend," said the chief, gravely. "You run a great risk in these little affairs of yours. We could not afford to lose you just now." "Never fear," returned the detective gaily. "I always keep my wits about me." That night Laromie was at the opera at an early hour. He waited impatiently as the audience come in, and he thought they had never been so slow before. He scanned the boxes and parterre closely, but could see the ^ lartv nnurhoro As hpon.n *7*-' ~ ~ ~o ? his attention was drawn by a friend, and he turned to speak to him. As he looked back at the audience, when his friend left hiii, his heart gave one great bound of delight. The lady was sitting in one of the most retired boxes, radiant in her beauty. She sav hiin and nodded smilingly. In an incredible short time he was seated by her side, pouring rorth his thanks for the happiness she had given him. In reply to his questions, the lady told him she was the widow of a gentleman of good family and great wealth. She said she had seen Laromie at various places iu the city; and with a blush she confessed that she had B become very much interested in him. The rest we have already told. ' One of Laroinie's weak points was his vanity, and here a pretty woman could always strike a successful blow. He had become completely fascinated with Madame de Noel, and while in the box, his demonstrations of admiration were so excessive that the lady had several times to remind him that they might be observed by some one in the audigp ence. When the performance was over, the lady askecl him if he would go home with her i to supper, and he, ovetjoyed, consented. | If any one had seen the detective during the -J ?- ~ lnrlir'a A1 len InC I unve 1IUU1 LUC upcm WJ LUC 1(VUJ o iivuov, >* " reputation for coolness and discretion would have suffered. He did nothing but clasp the lady around the waist. and kiss her repeatedly, protesting between each emphatic salute, ardent and undying devotion to the fair widow. Fortunately the carriage protected the pair from observation, and hid the lady's blushes. Madame de Noel laughingly declared that she had never seen so impulsive a lover; and said she was sure no woman could resist such eloquence as he was using with her. Laromie's only answer was a storm of kisses. Well, it must be confessed, very few men could have resisted the temptation. When they reached the residence of Mad| arae. de Noel, the carriage passed into the court yard, and they left it. They entered a dimly lighted hall and passed into a sumptuously furnished apartment, brilliantly illuminated. A footman recei ved inadame, and took m charge of the cloak and hood which she laid aside. Laromie afterwards remembered that she looked at the man in a peculiar way, as she bade him have supper served as soon as possible; but he thought nothing of it at the time. Madame seated herself in a luxurious arm chair, and Laromie threw himself on a cushion at her feet. For a long while neither spoke. A strange silence had tallen over them. All the while however, the young man's head rested against the arm of her chair, and one of her hands played carelessly with his hair. A slight noise in the apartment'caused the detective to look up. But he could not raise his head high enough to see anything. Madam's hand rested on it too heavily. "Bah! It is nothing, my dear fric-nd," she said, quickly. At the same instant he felt himself borne to the floor by an irresistible force; and before he could collect his wits, which he did not have about hira this time, he was bound hand and foot, and left helpless on the carpet. Glancing up, he saw the room was full of men. "What does this mean ?" he demanded stern1r "It means, Monsieur Laromie," replied the lady, smiling sweetly, "that you will not sup with me to-night." Laroraie's coolness returned to h.im now, that n lotrt It HiW IVV IMlVi "It seems that I have been a very great fool," he said, bitterly. "I agree with you, Monsieur," laughed the lady. "Stand aside," said one of the men, coming forward. "Let me speak with him. Do you know ine, Monsieur ? he asked. "Yes," replied Laromie. "You are Frederick Roulier, known to the government as the president of a socialist club, captain of a barricade, and a general promoter of disorder. These men, I suppose, are your confederates." "Precisely so, Monsieur. You have been for a long time as anxious to capture us as we have been to secure you. Fortune has favored us this time, and you are now our prisoner. Perhaps you would like to know what we intend doing with you ?" "That is a matter of indifference to me," said the detective, coolly. "Your courage is undoubtedly great," said Roulier f "but we shall put it to the test. We have decided long ago, Monsieur, that you must die. We would carry out our decision to-night, but all of our club are not present. To-morrow night the absent ones will return, and then we shall proceed to inflict our vengeance upon you. Your heart will be cut out of your living body. May heaven preserve your soul," he added, mockingly; "for your earthly part is doomed." "Do not be too sure of that," exclaimed Laromie, indignantly. "I was never born to die by the hands of such cowardly miscreants." The socialist leader laughed. "Ah! Monsieur Laromie," he said, sarcastically ; "why would you not be warned by your friends? Women will be the death of you, I fear." "Who is this woman?" asked the detective, not heeding the taunt "Let me answer," said Madame de Noel. "Monsieur Laroinie," she added, "I am one who has long owed you a debt of vengeance. Two years ago you arrested a woman named Marguerite Poisson, charged with murdering a French soldier. She was tried by your courts and condemned to death. That woman was my mother." "Well," said Laromie, calmly. "She was not executed." "No," said Madame de Noel, fiercely ; "but I owe you no thanks for that. The Emperor banished her to Algiers, to die under the burning suns of that land." "But the government subsequently pardoned her and gave her permission to return to France." "True; but the pardon was too late. When it reached Algiers my mother was dead. I swore to be revenged on you. I have succeeded in luring you here by my arts and lies. I hate you, as the man that caused my mother's death; and I shall witness your execution with joy." "What is your name ?" "Madeline Desmoulins." "Then you are the mistress of the chief of this club. A pretty couple^ truly, and a pretty scrape you have gotten me into!" muttered Laromie, with anger. "Well, then, Madame Julie de Noel, alius Madeline Desmoulins, if it will afford you any satisfaction, know that, instead of causing your mother's death, I tried to save her. In the discharge of my duty I arrested her. Although I believed her guilty of the offences charged against her, I pitied her. To oblige me, the chief of the secret police interceded with the Minister of Justice and procured the change in her sentence, and and if you apply to the chief of my command he will confirm my assertious. 1 he woman grew pale as death, calming her agitation, she turned to Roulier and said hastily, "Spare him till I find out the truth of this." "Stop," said the detective ouickly. "I will not allow you to intercede for me. If you could give me my freedom now, I would not accept it from you." The woman turned away aud left the room. M. Roulier directed two of his men to lift the detective?who was bound so securely as to be helpless?and convey him to the dungeon. The order was obeyed. M. Roulier lea the way, carrying a large lamp, and the remainder of the men followed, bearing the detective with them. They passed through the hall, descended a stone staircase to a large cellar, and finally paused before a heavy, close door. This Roulier opened and the party passed into the room. The detective was set down on the floor, Roulier, elevating the light, said: "Look around you, Monsieur Laromie. This room ' is very large and very strong. The walls, floor and ceilimr are all nf stnnp. and t.linrp is no outlet save through this heavy doorway by which we have entered. Some years before you became connected with the police of Paris, this building was occupied by one of its frincipal officials for professional purposes, t is within a quarter of a mile of the Hotel de Ville, so that you are almost within hearing of your friends, who are powerless to aid you. To-morrow night at nine o'clock our sentence will be executed upon you. Until then we leave you to your own thoughts. Good night, Monsieur Laromie." The men passed out of the cell, and the heavy door closed. Laroiuie heard the bolts slide'into the heap, and then all was silent. The dungeon in which he lay was perfectly dark, and he was bound so securely that he could not move a limb. He had no hope of escape. He was in the hands of his most inveterate enemies, and he knew he could expect no mercy from them. They had long threatened him for the injuries he had inflicted upon them by detecting their plots, and, now that they had him in their power, he felt sure that they Mould carry out their diabolical threat. Though he Mas Mithout hope, he was not deserted by his courage. He was a brave man, and he resolved to meet his fate witli fortitude. Still he cursed his folly bitterly, and was almost?though not quite?ready to swear that if he could escape this time he would never look at a woman again. He had been in the cell a little over an hour when he heard a noise as if a part of the flooring was being moved. He listened intently. The sound continued to be heard. Then some one spoke his own name in a low whisper. "Laromie! are you here?" asked the voice. "Yes," replied the detective, "but who, in the fiend's name, are you ?" The voice repeated the watchword of the secret police, and then Laromie was conscious of the presence of another person in the cell. "Regnard, is it you?" asked Laromie, who recognized the voice of one of his fellow-detectives. "How did you get here?" ' Regnard drew back the shade of a dark lantern, and showed Laromie a square opening in the floor. "" "Through that hole," he replied. "But stay! Let me commence at the beginning. What you said to the chief about your little affair made him anxious for vour safety. He set me to watch you, so that we might assist, if you got into trouble. I followed you to the opera, and rode behind the carriage which brought you here. The name of the lady, which, if you recollect, you gave to the chief, did not correspond with that of the woman who resides here. I reported your presence here to the chief. It seems that he once used this building for government purposes. There is a secret passage from this prison chamber to the Hotel de Ville, and another from here to the upper part of the house. He is well acquainted with them, having used them years ago. The secret was never imparted to any one out of the employ of the State, and no one else could have discovered it The chief instructed me how to use the passages; and being still anxious for your safety, he directed me to gain admittance to the house by means of them, and learn what I could concerning you. I had no idea of finding you here. Tell ma f icj fKn mooninnr nf rnilf Kninor liorp U1V IT lit*V 10 tuv lUV/UiliU^ VI J VU* MViMg ??w*v bound in this way." "First cut these cords, and I will," said Laromie. He was soon freed from his bonds; after which he related all that had happened to him. "A plan sugg?3sts itself to me," he added. He quickly explained to his companion the design which had presented itself to him at that instant. Regnard shook his head. "It involves great risk," he added gravely. "It may be fatal to you." Regnard showed him how to work the opening iu the floor, and then arranged the cords so that it should seem that Laromie was still bound by them, but fixed them in'such a manner that he could rid himself of them at a moment's warning. He left his lantern and some matches with Laromie, and then entering the secret passage, closed the opening after him, and Laromie was alone once more. He placed himself over the stone, and then fell asleep. The next day passed away slowly and the night came at last. Precisely at 9 o'clock, Laromie heard the door of his cell unlocked. It swung open and M. Roulier appeared, with a large Tamp. As he entered tne room the light suddenly went out. "Come in, my friends," he said quickly. "Let us close the door, and stop this draft, and then we'll light the lamp again. I have matches." In response to the summons about thirty men entered and the door was closed. "Monsieur Laromie," exclaimed Roulier, "are you here?" "To be sure I am," replied the detective. "How could I get away ?" "True," muttered the socialist. "Now for a light." At this moment the lamp was dashed from i.i i 1 I 1113 iiiuiu u v a 11 truvy uiuu. "What does this mean?" he exclaimed quickly. "It means," exclaimed Laromie, in a loud voice, "that you are all my prisoners." As he spoke the room was lit up by the glare of a dozen lanterns, from which the dark slides were drawn suddenly back and the astounded socialists found themselves in the presence of forty strong and well armed gendarmes. The denoument was so sudden and startling that they could not speak at first. The police were prompt, and secured their prisoners before they had recovered from their surprise. "Well, Monsieur Roulier," said Laromie, smiling, "the tables have been turned this time." The socialist glared at him, and muttered between his teeth, "You must be in league with the devil." "Perhaps I am," said Laromie, with a laugh. "At all events, monsieur, I was not ready to have my heart cut out." The prisoners were conducted to the upper part of the house, so that they did not learn the secret of the subterranean passage by which the police had entered the cell, and to the last they regarded their presence there as a piece of diabolism on Laromie's part. The woman who had ensnared the detective was also arrested. As he passed her, Laromie said sarcastically, "I hope you will have a pleasant visit to Algiers." She lowered her eyes and replied in a low tone, "I deserve this, monsieur, for betraying my mother's only friend." The prisoners, being old offenders, were all convicted, and were transported to the penal colony. The story soon became knowu throughout Paris, and the old house in which the detective had been imprisoned became an object of great curiosity to the citizens. The prisoners themselves, however, never learnt the solution ? ? r n A x _ ot the mystery, li they ever reiurn to France, perhaps they may hear of it. Alcohol and the Brain.?We all know that when we drink alcoholic liquor, it affects the brain immediately. Most of us are aware, too, that it afiects the brain injuriously, lessening at once its power to discern and discriminate. If I, at this 10, a. ra., full of interest in this subject, and eager to get my view of it upon paper, were to drink a glass of the best port, madeira or sherry, or even a glass of.lager beer, I should lose the power to continue in three minutes; or if I persisted in going on, I should be pretty sure to utter paradoxes and spurts of extravagance, which would not bear the cold review of to-morrow morning. Any one can try this experiment. Take two glasses of wine, and then immediately apply yourself to the hardest task your mind ever has to perform, and you will find you cannot do it,' Let any student, iust before he sits down to his mathematics, arink a pint of the poorest beer, and he will be painfully conscious of loss of power. Or let any salesman, liefore beginning with a difficult but important customer, perform the idiotic action of "taking a drink," and he will soon discover that his ascendancy over his customer is impaired. In some way this alcohol, of which "*e are so fond, gets to the brain and injures it.?Parton. gpsfcUaiwiiis Reading. From the XIX Century. REMINISCENCES OF PUBLIC MEN. WILLIAM SMITH. I was prejudiced in early life against Judge Smith, and most earnestly wished his defeat when Judge Huger opposed him for the United States Senate. This was before I was admitted to the bar. I was introduced to Judge Smith in the house of -Representatives of this State, whilst the contest was going on between him and Governor Miller for the Senate. I was at that time editing the Greenville Mountaineer, a Union paper, and had espoused the cause of Judge Smith 011 account of his opposition to nullification. His hostility to Mr. Calhoun, and his States' rights doctrines, which had formerly prejudiced me against him, were never forgiven afld joined in by myself. Mr. Calhoun had jumped over Judge Smith in the States' rights school, and went lar beyond what the judge had ever dreamed of in his opposition to national powers. Judge Smith was a very plain, unpretending man in his appearance and manners. He was very bitter and vindictive in his feel pigs. I never knew a man of talent and distinction TTo LatorJ Holhrnin with an intensity I 1X1 Ui V OU? A4V ? J and cordiality seldom felt by any public man towards his opponent. In speaking to Judge Huger, one day, of Mr. Calhoun, Judge Smith said, "Do you know, sir, that Calhoun, on my return to the Senate of the United States, treated me with so much kindness and con- i sideration that I could not hate him as I wished to do." I mentioned this singular expression to Judge Earle, and he remarked that he had no doubt Smith hated Calhoun the more for not being able to hate him! In other words, not paradoxical, he hated Calhoun the more on account of his kindness and cordiality, which deprived him of one cause for continuing his hatred. Judge Smith said to Governor Taylor, in my presence, "You know, sir, that Calhoun sold the State twice to advance his claims to the presidency, once on the tariff, and again on internal improvements." Judge Smith was the most consistent and the wisest statesman South Carolina ever produced in my day and time. He early perceived the dangerous tendency of increasing the powers of the IFederal Government by a great national bank, [ a magnificent system of internal improvements, and a tariff for the exclusive protection of Northern manufactures. He saw, too, the sectional bearing of these great measures would be to concentrate power and wealth at the North, and weaken and impoverish the South. He broke ground against these measures, at once, which were advocated by Mr. Calhoun and his friends, in South Carolina; and was turned out of the United States Senate ip consequence of his opposition to Mr. Calhoun and his policy. In a a few years the evil consequences of this great American system on the prosperity of the Southern States were sorely felt in South Carolina, and Judge Smith was again restored to the United States Senate by the Legislature. Then Mr. Calhoun and his party begau their scheme of nullification to break down and nullify the tarifflaws. Judge Smith immediately saw the dangerous and destructive consequences of this doctrine to all Federal powers, and opposed it like a wise statesman and patriot, and was again turned out of the Senate. His course was, all the time, a model one, the course of wisdom and patriotism. He was elected to the State Senate from York District, where he continued his opposition to nullification and his exertions in defence of the Union. But York District finally gave in her adhesion to nullification, and he moved to Alabama, where* he was elected to the Legislature, and afterwards appointed by General Jackson to a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States. This high and most honorable position the judge declined. In the Senate of the United States, Judge Smith always had great consideration for his wisdom, integrity and learning. South Carolina may well be proud of him as a statesman and patriot. Chancellor Job Johnston told me once that Judge Smith, in early life, had a falling out with one of his brothers, and they did not speak to each other. After his election to the bench he went to hold court in one of the lower districts, and found this brother on the jury, and by the recommendation of the clerk he was appointed foreman, but there was no recognition of kindred or acquaintance between them. llflt a! A AAI1?4 vvrtoa/w) SXVTAW fh Anf ilimr A lie V> ilUIC tUUlb UUOOUU UYW TTlUli/Ub iUCU speaking to each other, except officially. Chancellor Johnston wasN a great friend of Judge Smith, and took an active part for him in his election to the Senate when opposed by Judge Huger. The chancellor told me another incident connected with Judge Smith, which was very remarkable. In early life, conversing with the judge about General Jackson, he said: "I knew General Jackson well as a boy and a man, and I know him to be a hollow headed scouudrel!" Many years afterwards, in the canvass between Judge Smith and Jud^e Huger for the Senate, a member of the Legislature said to the chancellor that he would vote for Judge Smith, provided he was in favor of the election of General Jackson to the presidency. This Chancellor Johnston communicated to Judge Smith, and remembering what the judge had said in former years, he said to him, "you need not answer the question if it will prejudice you." The judge replied, "tell your senator I would sooner see General Jackson president than any man in America." Judge Withers who was the protege of Judge Smith, told me not long before his death, that he had heard the cause of Judge Smith's bitter enmity towards Mr. Calhoun, was owing to Mr. Calhoun's preventing President Monroe from appointing him to a foreign mission. Mr. Calhoun was, at that time, a member of Monroe's cabinet, and understood the president was going to nominate Judge Smith as Minister to Russia. He interposed and procured the appointment of Governor Middleton, of South Carolina. Judge Withers said, that whilst riding with Judge Smith one day he alluded to the fact, and an evasive answer was given him. Judge Smith always kept his letters, and in talking to me, in the days of nullification, relative to General Thompson, he said: "I have a rod in soak for hira, a letter which he wiote me." What this letter contained he did not inform me. ' On my introduction to Judge Smith, he spoke of his disappointment in ascertaining that the Pendleton members would vote against him. His son-in-law, Colonel John Taylor, lived at Pendleton till his removal to Alabama. His friend, General Earle, the brother-in-law of Col. Taylor, was still living there, and then adjutant-general of the State. He thought his influence would have been for him in the election. Judge Smith and myself boarded at the game hotel whilsthewas a member of the State Senate, and I saw a great deal of him. He was'one of the sternest and firmest men I ever knew. He was not a man like Judge Huger, of warm friendship, but he surpassed the judge W a long way in the bitterness of his enmities. He was said to have been a selfish man. I do not know the truth of this. Chancellor Thompson, who practiced with him at the bar, used to say he was ill-natured and captious with his associates. This k very likely true. He was rude in conversation, as well as bitter and vindictive. Just before leaving the State, he was knocked down by a gentleman for some offence given in conversatipn. Whilst a member of the Alabama Legis- i lature, a discussion sprung up as to the propriety of building a penitentiary. JudgeSmith ' had just sent his cotton crop to Mobile and was < defrauded by some of the factors there. He i stated to the house, of which he was a member, i that if the Legislature would bnild a wall 1 around the city of Mobile, they would have a 1 penitentiary at once filled with rogues! i B. F. PERRY. 1 l JEFFERSON DAVIS. j A correspondent of the Cincinnati Commef- i tied, who recently traveled with the Hon. Jef- ? ferson Davis, on a Mississippi river steamer, < writes: ? i 1 I had not before seen Mr. Davis. I had < pictured him as tall, bony and cadaverous. < All the engravings and photographs given to 1 the public make these characteristics more 1 prominent than his real appearance justifies. J His height is little, if any, above the average. * His face is well shaped, with regular features, 1 his nose being neither so prominent nor so em- ' phasized a Roman as is usually convened by j nis photographs. The lower part of his face ' is small, not indicating the pushkig; aggres- ? sive, or hull-like qualities often noticeable in 1 the contestants of the political arena, but, on 1 the contrary, indicating a delicate organiza- j tion, an amiable disposition and general col- 1 ture. It was not a face expressive of genius < or greatness. His eyes are blue, and, notwith- ' standing that the left eye is defective and al- J most visionlessj add to tne mildness of his face. I His hair is quite gray, as are his thin whiskers 1 and beard, and his moustache, wbicb is ex- 1 ceedingly short, is almost white. The tones ] of his voice are pleasant, and his speech is de- i liberate and measured?a quality seldom pos- ' sessed by one who is not a natural or trained ' orator. ' ' ? ' Mr. Davis' manner is exceedingly quiet and * unobtrusive. He does not appear to seek notoriety, but rather to avoid it, and the attentions paid him were received in as undemonstrative a way as they might be were he sim- ( ply a well-bred country gentleman, instead?of 1 having been the political head and front of ( the mostmemorable civil convulsions theworld ' nus yet witnesseu. xie is a uiuii wuuiu owi- ' dent has forced into a position' of fictitious 1 prominence. The quality that makes and < marks a leader amoiig men, sometimes called i "personality," "individuality," "character"? < that something which impresses the mind into < the mood of his mind and carries you along < with him?this Mr. Davis does not possess. ' Mr. Davis' health has greatly improved since 1 his release from confinement. His friends 1 who saw him during the troubled and anxious ' times of 1862, 1868 and 1864 expressed their ' surprise and gratification at the marked im- ] provement in his appearance and general i health. ' ( PRESIDENT DA VIS IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND. 1 Mr. Davis' conversation giving some retro- 1 spect of his travels in Great Britain was deeply interesting. Like every educated American, whose ideal associations with the things of the past, are derived from books, he Mgmed ] to have intensely enjoyed his visits to thScath- ^ edrals and the ruins of monasteries and abbeys, which carried him back to the days of ; early christian civilization. His reception in J Scotland he spoke of as particularly cordial, I and his visits to different points of interest 1 there as affording him the greatest gratification. The account of his visit to the Giant's I Causeway, Staffa, and more especially that to 1 the Island of Iona, he narrated with much en- < thusiasm. Iona?a little rocky island which 1 lies a few miles off the west coast of Scotland, j noted for its curious basaltic columns and J cathedral-like caverns, but now desolate and 1 barren?he pictured as it once existed, the j seat of learning and piety, and the point whence Christianity,is said to have spread over 1 the whole of GjJft Britain. He visited the i mementoes of its past glory, its ruined monas- I teries, crosses, and the torn be of saints and ancient kings, and spoke with intellectual reverence of the pleasure it afforded him to stand beside the graves of Duncan and Macbeth. MB. DAVIfi' FUTURE. I understood it to be Mr. Davis' intention, in due time, to give to the world his version of the political affairs in which he so prominently figured. He will employ a phonographic amanuensis to facilitate his labors, and as he has already accumulated a goodly store of materials, its publication may not .long be delayed. Mr. Davis is blamed for many things respecting which it will be interesting to hear him in his own defence. I 1tnow he is censured by many in the South for the prolongation of the war. I have again and agaiM heard it said by Southerners that, after the battle of Gettysburg, Gen. Lee urged meas- J ures of compromise to the end of obtaining I peace, which Mr. Davis persistently opposed. ] The family of Mr. Davis is still in England. | Of his own future, he did not speak positive- I ly. His friends believe that the United States I will be his future home, and that he will not I return to Europe, save to bring home Mrs. I Davis and his children. _ < * < OUR FUTURE. , That the South will ultimately absorb a large j part of the cotton manufacturing interests is I conclusively proved by the present state of i affairs. Of the mills of New England many l of them are now closed ; others are running on t short time ; while not one single corporation i in the North, so far'as we know, is working up t to its maximum production.* The cause of i this semi-prostration in one of our most im- 1 nitilv tn lip> anpii in flip 11 JiUl LUUt Wio IO vv MW- ...V diminished wants of the people at high prices, t the falling off" in the amount of exports, and, c consequently, the little, or in most cases, no t margin afforded in selling the goods at current ratess The cost of producing a yard of i cotton standard sheeting in Massachusetts and i in Georgia exhibits a difference of fully twenty per cent, and over. This is accounted for t in various ways: the slight difference in cost g of the raw materia ; the freighting expenses < which, of course, in Georgia, are done away t with ; the less expense of labor in handling, j &c., are a few of the most important. The result is that every Northern manufacturer is i complaining that present rates do not even af- j ford interest on the capital invested in proper* 1 ty, machinery, <fcc. Besides, the Northed < water-powers are all absorbed by raonied corporations, which, of course, to benefit their stockholders, are forced to levy and. collect as j much as possible for rents, while the dense I population of the North renders every foot of I ground adjacent to these water-courses valua- < ble for dwelling and business purposes. Thus i the mill owneris obliged to contract his limits j for manipulating the articles fabricated t^thp < smallest space possible, or else absorb, mogtff space at a comparatively high pri^.irj^d^et'i Jk/. < ' />.*. . .. / prospective profits do not warrant. In the South these water-powers are altogether more numerous, and, from the extent of the majority of them,-capable of exerting more power than those of the North, while the prices at which eligible lands and sites are now offered, compared to those of the North, are decidedly low. English capitalists are therefore awaking to the excellency of the field thus offered for investment, and many of their agents are at this moment in the South prospecting, while their numbers are augmented by almost every steamer. The "Cotton Supply Association of London*, England, came' to the conclusion this summer that India's production of the staple had reached its maximum, unless efforts were made to improve the condition of the land. "In that peninsula (India) there was in abundant field for cultivation, and a cheap labor market. Before the agricultural condition of India would reach the desired position great improvements were necessary. Those improvements, considering the vast area of the jountry, and the want of means of communication, could not be effected by private enterprise alone. The government was paternal, ind to it they must look for assistance." Besjlutions were adopted petitioning the governnent for some assistance,'which, so far, have aeen of little avail. The non-success of their projects, and the satisfactory accounts received is to the condition of the South, turned their ittention tp this new field of investment open x> them, where private enterprises could be most effectually and successfully employed, rhe consequence was the despatching of an igent to enquire into and report full particulars regarding the production and manufacture of cotton in the Southern States. The gentleman filling this position has arrived lere, has visited the South, and is probably ere this on his way back to report his experiences, which we are rather anxious to know, is pending this action of the association a number of English capitalists stand ready to pour their wealth into me South, which tmuat largely contribute to its prosperity and advance ment. That the benefits to accrue from such investments are immense, is beyond question, md we regret exceedingly that this should be made by foreigners, while large amounts of unemployed capital at the North should be. illowed to remain idle." ^ -t? ? ?. FISHING WITH BJEAJBDLK8S HOOjfcS. .Some months ago; business led .me to an Jtit-of-thcway place, where, neaT by a fali off water, there lived two boys, one eight and the )ther ten. They were bright-eyed, inquisitive little chape, but generally- without either hat )r shoes, and often with pants and jackets sadly rent Busied as I was in the repairs of an >ld mill, these boys were handy to send on errands, bring tools, look after my horse turned >ut to bait in the road, and do numberless little things to save the steps of those who were alder. One day, on reaching the mill, I saw the oldest boy standing upon a rock, partly bidden by the foliage of the surrounding trees, Sshing, and as often as he felt a nibble, he would jerk his line as spitefully out of the water as though he bore the little fish some terrible grudge, and wanted to pay it by twitching their heads off. I asked hum why he did so, and explained as well as I was able the beet modes of taking such fish as made the little brook their home. After hearing me patiently and respectfully, be said: "Mister, you fisb with a hooT^tlfat has got a beard on it, and when you hook one he stays. My hook han't got a beard. It's an old broken one that'Liier Green gave me. I han't got the money to buy a new one. Mother wants the pennies pou give me. I like to fish, like to catch 'em. for mother, and I have to twitch 'em when they bite, or they will wiggle off, and I shall; lose them." I liked the talk of that boy. He did not| grumble about his old hflok, but did the best lie could with what he had to do it with; And lay after day, as I saw him doing it, and tar king to his mother: the reward of his toil, which bad cost him so much oare, thought and skill, [ knew he was laying with that alder rod in bis hands the foundations of a grand charao-. ier. That is the way Horace Greeley began. He fished with a beardless hook. His father ivas very poor, and he had scarcely any books, ind what he had he was obliged to read by lie dim light of pine knots which his own fbre;hought had gathered; but he is now one of ;he ablest writers, as well, as one of the in est nfluential men in America. And so with John Jacob Astor. He had no money, or comparatively none, when he came to this countiy, but he wanted to trade, and so he carried his little bundle of goods around unier his arm or in his hands. He fished with i beardless hook. Afterward he bought furs Mid carried tliem on bis back, hundreds of miles to market, and when he died, be had ?rown from absolute poverty to be the richest man in the country. There is scarcely a great cr good man on this side of the Atlantic that lid nbt have a tough time in his boyhood, did lot fisl/a while with a beardless hook. + . * A Dead Murderer Says he was Hanged for Nothing.?For some time whispers bave been circulated in our community that persons who had visited, at certain hours, the jrave of Peter Riddick, the negro hung some ;ime since for murder; that upon knocking on i 1 ?1- -x { L..x _ C ;he grave ana asxing wnat ne was nuug iur, ;he reply was, "nothing." Of bourse, w^slounding a statement was incredulously received ; out learning that a well known church elder had tried the experiment, with the same rfsult, a party of young men called on the gentleman aijd enquired if such was the fact, tfid'ffn being assured that it was, th^y asked f he was willing to swear to it He replied ;hat he was not in the habit of swearing, but hat he would lav his hand on the Bible and epeat it, which he did, giving a circumstan-i ial and minute account ofliis visit to the grave and enquiring, "Peter, what w.erqyou >ung for?" "Ana did he say anything? irVhat did he say?" eagerly interrogated a hsener, as through his Bones cold^ills were ireeping, and whose hair was^f&st assuming he condition of quills on a &Kful porcupine. "He said," replied the elderj with a solemnty befitting so grave ajg^ect, "he sajd'ijQth"Good God!" startled replyf- and he party adjougM^|d^hfe graveyard, and the ifcory getting wffa.lretw's grave was beset by lurious and jl&rtled rappers, and almost every ;irae the question was propounded, something inffwered^nothing." ' ' I TUrls a subject which should prove interesting to spiritualists andpschycologists, auj) recan assure them that there is not aAwot n our minds that the above accounfcwlfue in every particular. Riches.?The man wjtfa^i?m!finn health is rich. So is the clear conscience. 3o is the parentjjflffgorous, happy children. So is the cleMfl^Wnoee coat the little children of hjpttrah^pluck, as he passes them on thekjpta&'i w? is that wife who has the whole beartjdra good husband. So is the maiden Mpehorizon is not bounded by the "coming man," but who has a purpose in life, whether she ever met him or not. So is the young man who, laying his hand on his heart, can say, "I have treated every woman I ever saw as I should wish my sister treated by other men." So is the little child who goes to sleep with a kiss on its lips, and for whose waking a kind blessing waits. Gates, vs. Bars.?"Mr. M.said I to one of my neighbors, the other morning, "why don't yon put a gate in the place of those barn yard Dare?" "Oh, I don't want any of your gates around me," he replied rather crustily; "don't think they pay. Those bare have stood there thirty years; and I'd like to see the gate that would stand half the banging." "Take the whole year through, how many times a day, Sundays excepted, do you have occasion to take those bare out and put them |n wain ?" "Oh, some days half a dozen times, some days not at all." ."'Once a day on an average?*' 1 asked. "Yes; probably more than that" "Well, let's see. there are seven bars; that would be handling four thousand three hundred and eighty-five rails each year; or, one hundred ana thirty-one thousand five hundred and fifty rails, you hate handled in the thirty years, in going into and out of your barn yard.". This would be equivalent to "laying up" a rail fence eight thousand two hundred and twenty rods, or twenty-five and three-fourth miles in length. < Ttris amount of labor would pull down and rebuild all the fences on your 100 acre farm every six years. Truly, neighbor, your ban may stand any amount of banging, but they can't stand arithmetic. ? A Truthful Sketch.?Let a man fail in business, what a wonderful effect it has on bis former creditors! Men who have taken him by the arm, laughed and chatted with him by the hour,'shrug up their shoulders and pass on with a childlike, "How do you dot" Every trifle of a bill is hunted up and presented that would not have seen the light for mo&ths to oome, but for the misfortune of the dfebtor. , If it is paid, well and good; if not, thft scowl of the sheriff) perhaps, meets him at the corner. ,A man that has neve?failed knows but little of human nature. In prosperity he sails along, gently wafted by fevorkg smiles and kind words from every body. He prides himself on his name and spotless character, and * makes his boast that he has not an enemy in the world.. Alas! the change. He looks to the world in a different light when the reverses come upon him* He reads suspicion on qyery brow. He hardly knows how to moye -nor to do this thing or the other, for there are spies about him, and a writ is ready for his .back. .To understand what kind of .tuff the world is made ofifa person must be unfortunate and stop payfaent once in a life-time. If he has kind friends, then they are made mamfoet *A failure in ft mnrftl flipvp it brines out the wheat and shows the chaff. A .man learns th^t words and pretended good-will does not constitute real friendship. ? , r;.:A, Minister in a Ball Boom.?"Father Hfcltt' was a preacher of the Old fichooi.S. C. Conference. Passing along the highway one evening in a strange, wicked country, he called at a good looking house for lodgings. Weary and faint, he sat down by the fireside. After a while, as night began to close in, com* panies of well dressed gentlemen and ladies flocked into the room. One drew out his violin and cpmmenced playing. Away scampered the youngest, hopping and leaping. It yras "a ball." Here sat the stranger looking silently on. At ^ngth a partner was wanted, and one ventured up and asked Mr. Hull if he would take the floor. "Certainly madam!" # said he, rising and walking out on the floor, as he spoke; "but I have long made it a rule never to commence any business till I have asked the direction of the Lord, and his blessing npon it. Will you all join in praver with me ? As he spoke these words, he fell on his knees and began to . pray. Some kneeled, others stood, an petrified with astonishment In the meantime, being a holy, faithfnl man, and Euliarly powerful in prayer, he seemed to W the very heaven and earth together, ae groaned, some shrieked aloud, ana many fell prostrate, like dead men, on the floor. In snort, the dance was turned into a religious meeting, from which many dated their conviction and conversion, and the commencement of a powerful revival. * * ? , Wood Ashes as a Fertilizer.?This is one of the most valuable fertilizers within the reach of the feliner. The unleached article has the most polish, but the leached is thought to be quite as valuable, In leachmg they shrink A good deal, and lime is usual padded whioh increases their value. Thev are generally sold, too, at a lees price. Ashes are well suited to all farm crops, and are very beneficial in the fruit yard and orchard. Most far mere still sell wood in the cities and villages, and rather than go home empty, they should carry back ashes and other fertilizers, to replace the potash, lime and phosphoric* acid that have been, carried off in the crops and animals sold. Ashes show immediate effects from their application, and at the same time last long in the soil. They are very highly appreciated in the onion growing districts, but may be applied with equal advantage to ordinary farm crops. They- should be. kept ,a? near the surface-as possible, spread ana harrowed into the seed bed, or applied directly to the growing crops. Make a business of soring, buying and storing ashes daring the winter for the next season s operations. American AffriqdturuL j f Jj - " Woman's Love for Elowebs.?In all countries women love flowers; in all countries they fcwm'nosegwyswf them; but it is only in tbe, bosom of plenty that they conceive the idea of embellishing their dwellings with them. The cultivation of flowers among t^ peasantry, indicates a. revolution in all their fpelings. It is a delicate pleasure which makes its way through coarse organs; it isaereature whose eyes were opened; .itIs a sense of the beauti ful?a faculty of 'the sojadirbich is awakened. Those who have trajpflu in the country, can testify that a roa^free under the window, a honeysuckle &xnmd the door of a cottage, are -1 ? Anrrivt in fko 4i*ovo1ow The NilpijrfiliilrniUTrnfrtiflnrrrn in not closed rrri fl^Vapplf cations of the poor or the jMw the stranger. 1IP&BEPLE&?This useful little implement forms a considerable article of commerce and home trade in Europe and the United States. German and Hungarian steel is of most repute in the manufacture of needles. They were first made in England by a negro from Spain, in the time of bloody Mary, who earned on the business at Cheapeide, London; but, as he would not divulge the secret, the art was lost by his death and not recovered again until 1566, in the reign of Elisabeth, when Elias Growse, a German, taught it to the English, who have since brought it to the highest state of perfection.