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lewis m. gbist, p^prietor-J ' j|it liiiitpfiibtiil J^iitiin flttosjragcr: , jrcr % ^rt^ro^f %. ^^al, gaml, ^gritiiltiinl anb % Ifonlj;. ^ ^ TEBM8^~'|3.00 A YEAB? IH APVAMjiE. -<? '. >* YOBKYILLE, S. C., Tl3|ffJRSDAj|| ATJG-TJST~4, 187Q. jj|| INTO. 8lT v vy-u. o-v? j&fcfted ? iwitg. THE DROPPED STITCHES. Sitting alone in the corner, In her own old easy chair, With the firelight softly falling On her beautiful gray hair. She's knitting away at a stocking, -? Rounding the heel to-night; And nobody knits like mother, Though age is dimming her sight. Glancing like silvexy the needles Backward and forward go. And the rings on bar thin white fingers, Are flashing to and fro. There's the golden hand that has never Been off slnoe her wedding day, And the hoop encrusted with diamonds, From Tom what he went away. Aw&v at the becfc of fortune, To "the far-off China seas. Day and righton herknees. Pleading that %ind and weather For Tom night ever be fair, And that nfver the boy might wander Out of maofa of hfc mother's prayer. ^^^^Thia M^^m^ed^a^-^treminda her To keep his feet ^ronTtT^irnp. And Willie, he never wore them. His tired feet at length were still? Oh I so still in a narrow grave On the side of a Southern hill. It's wonderful?she remembers The first little sock she knit, A wee thing, white and dainty, Marveling, "would it fit ?" Tucking it by in her basket, As if it were half a sin, And fearful lest careless eyes should se6 The dreams she was knitting in. Dear little baby ^.lioe Never was babe so sweet; 1 Alice's own are all very well, But ah! those dimpled feet " , That she fondled ana kissed so often, That she taught to waur aioue? They are walking life's long pathway, They are hurt by many a stone. . t* . Knitting alone is the mother, And the firelight softly falls On the pleasant room or the household, On the beautiful pictured walls; But I think, when the lamps of evening # Scatter the shadows there, They gleam over nothing half so sweet As the mother's silver nair. And oh! she has dropped her stitches: To be sure, it is not strange, Since she herself has been far away Beyond this world of change; Away for a half-hour's vision, . To the realms of the brave and the leal, Where the loved of the past are together, In the land of endless weal. IrHet. THE DREAM WOMAN. - .a physician's story. CHAPTER I. I had not been settled much more than six weeks in my country practice when I was sent for to a neighboring-town, to consult with the resident medical man there on a case of very dangerous illness. My horse had come- down with rae at the end of a long ride the night before, and had ' hurt himself, luckily, muclf more than he had hurt his master. Being deprived of the animal's services, I started for my destination by the coach (there were no railways at that tune)^aS?I I hoped to got back again^towdrd the afternoon, in the same way. After the consultation was over, I went to the principal inn of the town to wait for the coach. When it came up it was full inside and out There was no resource left me but 'to get home as cheaply as I could by hiring a gig. The price asked for this accommodation struck me as being so extortionate, that I determined to look out for an inn of inferior pretensions, and to try if I could not make a better bargain with a less prosperous estabk lishment. I soon found a likely-looking house, dingy fed quiet, with an old fashioned sign, that HHH^vidently not been repainted for many ^^H^fepast The landlord, in this case, was ^H^Hfewe makrhg a small profit, and as JEj^P^WNfrcu ine to terms, he rang the yard^^Mil to order the gig. "Has Robert not come back from that errand ?" asked the landlord, appealing to the waiter who answered the bell; "No, sir, he hasn't" "Well, then, you must wake up Isaac." % "Wake up Isaac ?" I repeated; "that sounds rather odd. Do your ostlers go to bed in the day time ?" ".This nne does." said the landlord, smilincr to himself in rather a strange way. "And dreams, too," added the waiter; "I shan't forget the turn it gave me the first time I heard him." "Never you mind about that," retorted the proprietor; "you go and rouse Isaac up. The gentleman's waiting for his gig." The landlord's manner and the waiter's manner expressed a great deal more than they either of them said. I began to suspect that I might be on the trace of something professionally interesting to me as a medical man, and I thought I should like to look at the ostler before the waiter awakeyd him. "Stop a minute," I interposed; "I have rather a fancy for seeing this man before you wake him up. I'm a doctor; and if this queer -?^fcepingand dreaming of his comes from probing wrong in his brain, I may be able torfell you what to do with him." "I rather think you will find his complaint past all doctoring, sir," said the landlord; "but if you would like to see him, your'e welcome, I'm sure." He led the way across a yard and down a a passage to the stables, opened one of the doors, and, waiting outside himself, told me to look in.. I found myself in a two-stall stable. In one of the.stalls a horse was munching his .corn; in the ether and old man was lying asleep on the litter. I stooped and looked at him attentively. It was a withered, woe-begone face. The eyeK.Amo xnara nsinftillv r>nntrnM?l tlio mnntli was fast set, and drawn down at the corners. The hollow wrinkled cheeks, and the scanty grizzled hair, told their own tale of some past sorrow or suffering. He was drawing his breath convulsively when I first looked at him, and in a moment more he began to talk in his sleep. "Wake up!" I heard him say, in a quick whisper, through his clenched teeth. "Wake up there 1 Murder!" He moved one lean arm slowly till it rested over his throat, shuddered a little and turned on his straw. Then the arm left his throat, the hand stretched itself out, and clutched at the side toward which he had turned, as if he fancied himself to be grasping at the edge of something. I saw his lips move, and bent lower over him. He was still talking in his sleep. f "Light gray eyes," he murmured, "and a drpop in the left eyelid; flaxen hair, with a gold-yellow streak in it?all right, mother? fair -white arms, with a down on them-rlittle lady's hand, with a reddish look under'the finger nails. The knife?always the -cursed knife?first on one side, then on the other. Aha! you she-devil where is the knife?" At the last word his voioe rose* and he grew restlesS on a sudden. I saw him shudder on the straw; his withered face became distorted, and he threw up both his hands with a quick hysterical gafep. They struck against the bottom of the^ afluiger in which he' lay, and the blow awakened Urn. I had just time to slip throtigh the door and close it before hisI eyes were fairly open, and his senses his own J again. "Do you. know anything about that man's past life?" I said to the landlord. "Yes, sin I know pretty well all about it," was the answer, "and an uncommon queer story it is. Most people don't believe it It's true, though, for all that Why just look at him/ continued the landlord, (opening the 8table door agaiiy -"Poor de vH <Vhe'-d tb wvoni out with his restless nights that he's dropped back in bis sleep already." . ; "Don't wake him," I said; "tm. in no hurry for the gig. Wait till the other man comes back from his errand; and in the meantime, suppose I have some lunch and a a bottle of sherry, and suppose you come and help me to get through with it." The heart of mine host, as I had anticipated, warmed to me over his own wine. He soon became communicative on the subject of the man asleep in the stable, and by little and little I drew the whole story out of him. Extravagant and incredible as the events must appear to everybody, they are related here just as I* heard them, and just as they happened. . ' CHAPTER II. . Some years ago there lived in the suburbs of a large sea-port town on the- west coast of England a man in humble circumstances, by name Isaac Scatchard. His means of subsistence were derived from any employment . that he could get as an ostler, and occasionally as times went well with him, from temporary engagements in service as stable-help-er in private houses. Though a faithful, steady, and honest man, he got on badly in - - " " "' ' ? v:?i bis calling. HIS 1J1-1UCK -was pruverunu among his neighbors. He was always missing good opportunities by no fault of his own, and always living longest in service .with amiable people who were not punctual payers of wages. "Unlucky Isaac" was hi&toickname in his own neighborhood, and no one could say that he did not richly deserve it With far more than one man'g fair share of adversity to endure, Isaac had but one consolation to support him, and that was of the dreariest and most negative kind. He had no wife and children to increase his anxieties and add to the bitterness of his various failures in life. It might have been from mere insensibility, or it might have been from generous linwillingnMM tn. invnlvp ^nthpr iri hia oyn _ unlucky destiny; but the fact undoubtedly was, that he had arrived at the middle term of life without marrying, and, what is much more remarkable, without once exposing himself, from eighteen to eight-and-thirty, to the genial imputation of ever having had a sweetheart. When he was out of service he lived alone with his widowed mother. Mrs. Scatchard was a woman above the average in her lowly station as to capacity and manners. She had seen better days, as the phrase is, but she never referred to them in the presence of curious visitors; and, though perfectly polite to every one who approached her, never cultivated any intimacies among her neighbors. She contrived to provide, hardly enough, for her simgle wants by doing rough work for the tailors, and always managed to keep a decent home for her son to return to whenever his ill luck drove him out helpless into the world. One bleak autumn, when Isaac was getting on fast toward forty, and when he was, as usual, out of a place through no fault of his own, he set forth from his mother's cottage on a long walk inland, to a gentleman's seat wlioro Tip Tia/T hoard that ft stable-heliier was required. It wanted then but two days of his birthday ; and Mrs. Scatchard, with her usual fondness, made him promise, before he started, that he would be back in time to keep that anniversary with her, in as festive a way as their poor means would allow. It was easy for him to comply with this request, even supposing he slept a night each way on the road. He was to start from home on Monday morning, and whether he got the new place or not, he was to be back for his birthday dinner on Wednesday at two o'clock. Arriving at his destination too late on the Monday night to make application for the stable-keeper's place, he slept at the village inn, and in good time on the Tuesday morning presented himself at the gentleman's house to fill the vacant situation* Here again his ill luck pursued him as inexorably as ever. The excellent written 'testimonials to his character which he was able to produce availed hira nothing; his long walk had been taken in vain; only the day before the stablekeeper's place had been given to another man. Isaac accepted this new disappointment resignedly and as a matter of course. Nat urally slow in capacity, he had the bluntness of sensibility and phlegmatic patience of disposition which frequently distinguish men with sluggish-working mental powers. He thanked the gentleman's steward with his usual quiet civility for granting him an interview, and took his departure with no appearance of unusual depression in his face or manner. Before starting on his homeward walk he made some inquiries at the inn, tfnd ascertained that he might save a few miles on his return by following a new road. Furnished with full instructions, several times repeated, as to the various turnings he was to take, he set forth on his homeward journey, and walkod on all day with only one stoppage for bread and cheese. Just as it was getting toward dark, the rain came on, and the wind be?hn to rise, and he foUd himself, to make matters worse, in a part of the country with which i he was entirely unacquainted, though he knew | himself to be some fifteen miles from home. The first house he found to inquire at was a lonely roadside inn, standing on the outskirts ; ; of a thick wood. Solitary as the place looked j ; it was welcome to a lost man who was also j hungry, thirsty, footsore and wet. The land-v lord was civil and respectable looking, and the j | price he asked for a bed was reasonable ] / v enough. Isaac therefore decided on Btopping. oomfprtably at the inn for that night * "Be; was^Constitutionally a temperate man. His suppei^fensisted of tyro rashers of bacom> a slice ofbome-made bread and a pint of aid. He dicf|>?t go to bed immediately after Ms moderatemeal, but sat up with the landlord, talking about his bad prospects and his long run of ill luck, and diverging from these top ics to the subjects of horse-flesh and racing. Nothing was said either by himself, his host, or the few laborers who, strayed into the tap room, which could, in the slightest degree, ex? cite the very small and very dull imaginative faculty which Isaac Sca&hardij&Siiessed. At a little after eleven the housefWas closed. Isaac went round with the landlord and held the candle while the doors and leff&r windows were being secured. Hehoj^QBfLwith surprise the strength of the bolts and bars, and iron-* sheathed shutters. * . ;c "Yottfsee, we are rather lonely here!" said, [ the tempts made to break in- yet, but it's always as well to be on the safe side. When nobody is sleeping here, I am the only man in the house. My wife and daughter are-timid, and die servant-girl takes after her missuses. Another glass of ale before you turn in ? No! Well, how such a sober man as you comes to be out of place is more than I can make out, for one. Here's whete you're to sleep. You are our only lodge): to-night, and I think you'll say my missus has done her best to make you comfortable. You're quite sure you won't have another glass of ale. Very well, flood nigfet" It was half past eleven by the clock in the passage as they went up stairs to the bedroom, the- window of which looked on to the wood at the back ofkthe house. Isaac locked his door, set his candle on the chest of drawers, and wearily got ready for bed. The bleak autumn wind was still blowing, and the solemn, monotonous surging moan of it in the woods was dreary and awful to hear through the night silence. Isaac felt strangely wakeful. He resolved, as he lay down in bed, to keep the candle alight until he began to grow sleepy, for there was something unendurably depressing in the bare idea of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal ceaseless moaning of the wind in the wood. Sleep stole on him before he was aware of it His eyes closed and he fell off insensibly. to rest withoift having so much as thought of | extinguishing the candle. The first sensation of whi&h he was conscious after sinking into slumber was a strange shivering that ran through him suddenly from head to foot, and a dreadful sinking pain at the heart, such as he had pever felt before. The shivering only disturbed his slumbers; the pain woke him instantly. In one moment he passed from a state of sleep to a state of wakefulness?his eye3 wide Open? his mental perceptions cleared on a sudden, as if by a miracle. " -*rire' cantlR (Towh neatly to the last morsel of tallow, but the top of the unsnuffed wick had just fallen off, and the light in the little room was, for the moment, fair and full. | Between ihe foot of his bed and the closed door there stood a woman with a knife in her hand lookihg at him. He was stricken speechless with terror, but he did not lose the preternatural clearness of his faculties, and he never took his eyes off the woman. She said not a word as they stared each other in the face, but she began to move slowly toward the left-hand side of the bed. His eyes followed her. She was a fair, fine woman, with yellowish flaxen hair and light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eye-b'd. He noticed those things and fixed them on his mind before she was round at the side of the bed. Speechless, with no expression in her face, with no noise following her footfall, she came closer and closer?stopped?and slowly raised, the knife. He laid his right arm over his throat to save it; but, as he saw the knife coming down, threw his hand across the bed to his right side, and jerked his body over that way just as the knife descended on the mattress within an inch of his shoulder. TTi ? J l-~ ? J l 1 or. -IXL? cyva woreuACu uu iici ai m auu uauu no she slowly drew the knife out of the bed ; a white well-shaped arm, with a pretty down lying lightly over the fair skin?a delicate lady's hand, with the crowning beauty of a pink flush under and round the finger nails. She drew the knife out, and passed back again slowly to the foot of the bed; stopped there |or a moment looking at him; then came on?still speechless, still with no expression on the blank, beautiful face, still with no sound following the stealthy footfalls?came on to the right side of the bed, where he now lay. As she approached she raised the knife again, and he drew himself away to the left side. She struck, as before, right in th%mattress, with a deliberate, perpendicularly downward action of the arm. This time his eyes wandered from her to the knife. It wae- likn the large clasp-knives which he had often seen laboring men use to cut their bread and bacon with. Her delicate little fingers did not conceal more than two-thirds of the handle; he noticed that it was made of buck-horn, clean and shining as the blade was, and looking like new. For the second time she drew the knife out, concealed it in the wide sleeve of her gown, then stopped by the bedside watching him. For an instant he saw her standing in that position, then the wick of the spent candle fell over into the socket; the flame diminished to a little blue point, and the room grew dark. A moment or less, if possible, passed so, and then the wick flamed up, pmokingly, for the last time. His eyes were still looking eagerly over the right-hand side of the bed when the final flash of light came, but they discerned nothing. The fair woman with the knife was gone. The conviction that he was alone again weakened the hold of terror that had struck him clumb up to this time. The preternatural sharpness which the very intensity of his panic had mysteriously imparted to his faculties left them suddenly. His brain grew confused-?his heart beat wildly?his ears opened for'the first time since the appearance of the woman to a sense of the woful ceaseless moaning of the wind among the trees. With the dreadful conviction of the reality of what he had seen still strong within him, he leaped out of bed, and screaming "Murder!" Wake up there! wake up!" dashed headlong through vthe darkness to the door. * It was fast locked, exactly as he had left it on going to bed. His cries on starting up had alarmed thjd house. He heard the terrified, con&sed en clamations of women; he saw the the house'approaching along the passage his burning rush candle-in one hand.aaid8 gun in the other. * J "What is it?" asked the landlord bre^jH Isaac could only answer in a whisperj| H woman, witb-a knife in her hand4" heijflflEI out. "In my room?a fair, yellow-haiwwa-l mam, she jobbed at me wienie knife twifiei of his candle, and his face began to get pd| again f his voioe altered,Jrifaa well'as mis j complexion. ( | "She seems to have missed "I dodged the knife as itcamecferai#'' ^in^die geared ^ The landlord took his candle into the-*?droom immediately. In less than a minute he came out again into the passage in a violent passion. "The devil fly away with you and your woman with a knife. There isn't a mark in the bed clothes anywhere. What do you mean by coming into a man's place, and frightening his family out of their wits about a dream ?" "I'll leave your .house," said Isaac, faintly. "Better be out on the road, in the rain and ^ dark, on my road home, than back again in that room, after what I've seen in it Lend me a light to get my clothes by, and tell me what I'm to pay." "Pay!" cried the landlord, leading the way with his light- sulkily into the bed-room. "You'll find your score on the slate when you go down stairs. I wouldn't have taken you in for all the money you've got about you if I'd known your dreaming, screeching ways beforehand. Look at the bed. Where's the cut of a knife in it ? Look at the window? ' is the lock bursted ? Look at the door (which I heard you fasten yourself)?is it broke in? A murdering woman with a knife in my house. You ought to he ashamed of yourself!" Isaac answered not a word. He huddled on his clothes, and then they went down stairs- together. "Nigh on twenty minutes past two!" said the landlord as they passed the clock. "A nice time in the morning to frighten honest people out of their wits !" ... Isaac paid his bill, and the.landlord let him out at the front door, asking, with a grin of contempt, as he undid the strong fastenings, whether "the murdering woman got in that way." They parted without a word on either side. The rain had .ceased, but the night was darkkj er and the wind bleaker than ever. Little! diil the darkness or the cold, or the uncertainty about the way home matter to Isaac. If he had been turned out into a wilderness in a thunderstorm it would have been a relief after wfcat-hc hafl suffifred-tin thefrbcflkftjllpM the inn. What was the fair woman with the knife? The creature of a dream, or that other creature from the unknown world called among men by the name of ghost? He could make nothing of the mystery?had made nothing of it, even .when it was midday on Wednesday, and when he stood, at last, after many times missing his road, once more on the doorstep of home [concluded next week.] " From ttoe N. Orleans Cor. N. Y. Herald. THE CHINESE IN LOUISIANA. On the morning of the fourth day of July, ... j?i 1. 1 <a nr.: j lOiV, m uuy-ui ean., ituvuuiauicu tuiucu uui to work in the cane fields of Louisiana. ' If the experiment succeeds half as well as indications now promise, Independence Day will have a new meaning for the planters of the South. The 4th of July, 1870, will be remembered as a day that gave them independence of a class of labor which, relying upon its suitability to the soil and climate, and the excess of demand over supply, had begun to be tyrannical and exacting beyond endurance. In Louisiana alone, before this time next year, thousands upon thousands of acres will be brought under cultivation, which, but for this new labor force, would have lain idle. In Texas two hundred and fifty Chinese are now working on railroads, opening up the commerce of that magnificent empire State; and some hundreds- have been set to work in the cotton fields of Arkansas under contracts entered into with the agents of Koopmanschap & Co. Thus in three Southern States at once the experiment is progressing. But Louisiana affords the best and most suitable field for ChineSe labor for several reasons, chief among which is the fact that its climate and products are precisely similar to those of the sections' of China from which emigration i? 1 come; foe curiously enough, the tide of Chi-" nese emigration to the United States has only reached two or three provinces of that great empire at present. In the Amoor region and other districts no inducement could prevail on the people to leave their native and crowded land. So, at least, says Lee'Fook Wing, the intelligent, educated head man of the gang now in Louisiana. And mentioning Lee Fook Wing's name (it is to be hoped with the proper number of "e's" and "o's" in the spelling) brings one down to the hundred and forty Chinamen with whom this letter started. WHAT THEY ARE. Dressed in blue blouses and drawers, very much like a Coney Island bathing dress, with shaven crowns, beardless faces, and plaited pigtails sweeping the ground, their appearance conveys the first impression of effeminacy, which a close inspection quickly dissipates. Nearly all of them are young men?they have no wom en among them?some mere boys, lithe, muscular and active as a company of picked French zouaves. Yesterday, when your correspondent visited their quarters, they were racing, jumping and chattering with all the abandon of a parcel of school boys just let loose. Two or three, on sober thoughts intent, were engaged in cooking the common supper, and cooking it in a way of their own devising. In the arrangements for their reception a kitchen had been forgotten. Chinese^ingenuity was equal to the occasion. Burrowing a hole in the ground, after some quaint fashion of their own, they develope a kitchen range, which would make a backwoodsman's fortune. Alas, for the fondly cherished beliefs of early days. That well known picture of our child foxxl which repSrlalB^I the Chinese provision Mprchant making msaaily round with a string firats slung % the tail to one end. of a Inboo pole, and threefat puppy dogs dang* Sf 81 the end of the other, being one of the few |B^)j|niidicih time had not disturbed, I Bfcedfo^Bhto verify this honored beliefby Hd a'moet ajptiiing ragout of chicken and Raimmering in the sauce-pan; five or ten Myds of juicy beefsteak broiling on the em gfeanj} some corn-cakes baking in the back Jpopnd. .Is not this enough to shake one's ffcjjtf$qnce in everything?even in fish storied WHERE THEY ABE. |?|Pbtee 140 pioneers from Celestial land have bfen engaged to work upon one of the. finest Louisiana, known formerly as who, if history lies not, firet braigh^'negrQ slavery to curse the South, who built tip the institution and then destroyed it, are now taking the lead in introducing the new motive power here and in their own State, and perhaps in fifty years hence will be forming a "Chinese abolition society." The. Chinamen on the Millandon place have their quarters in the rectifying house of a defunct distillery (one of those sacrifices which Government every now and then exacts from Louisiana distillers to please the Western whiskey ring.) It is a large two-story wooden' building, and when fitted up with the bunks which the Chinamen themselves are preparing, will answer admirably for their accommodation. WHERE THEY COME FROM. w a n ** _ A xney came com con jeran cisco, via. wma.ha and fit Louis, and were brought over by jir. F. W. Gardner, of San Francisco. An interesting incident of their voyage is told in tfhe Republican: From the time of their departure from San Francisco to their arrival near New Orleans none died from sickness, and but one death occurred from accident This was at the mouth of White river, where three of the Chinamen, in violation of orders, w.ent into the river to bathe, and one of them was drowned. Whenap long search for the body had proved fruitless, and as the steamer was about to resume her voyage, the countrymen of the poor fellow leaned over the side, and simultaneously raised a most appalling yell, as if to call his attention to what they were about to do, and then threw overboard his clothing, hat, boots, and a bag containing a quantity of Chinese money (cash). This was evidently a Bpecies/of funeral ceremony, and was probaintended *to enable the drowned man to ^.c his departure to, the next world with a proper outfit > The engagement of these men by Mr. Merrill and his associates, is not the less a matter |? pluck, because their aid was. greatly need-j ?vdo.tkei h*v^f J passed the crops in Louisiana beyond the probability of cleansing witii the present force, and there is a universal outcry for labor. ( Still as he who ate the. first oyster ?sas a bold man, so ho who tried the first Chinaman ran no mean risk. The men will not hire themselves in small parties. They prefer to keep together for mutual protection. The man who concluded to take one China man was bound to take a hundred. His experimenting had to be done, not in miniature or on paper, but in actual practice, and on a large scale. There will be plenty ready to follow the example now, as it is found likely to pay. Mr. Gardner already has his hands full of orders for more. But to start it was the thing which required nerve and enterprise and a liberal command of money. These Mr. Merrill and his associates have brought to bear, and with every prospect of success. Twenty thousand Chinamen would not be too many for immediate absorption in the labor market of Louisiana. ? WHAT THEY GET. The hands employed by Mr. Merrill receive fourteen dollars a month wages and twenty cents a day to find their own provisions? all payable in gold. A certain proportion of their pay is kept back as a guarantee for faithful services. WHAT THEY CAN DO. Thirty of the hands have worked on sugar plantations in their own country ; the rest are quick and ready to learn. They are handy at all mechanical trades, and are said to make the very best of household servants. A few of them speak a little English; Lee Fook Wing, their head man, who, by the ftay, is one of the adherents of that powerful rebel faction in China which has overrun half the country and whose leader mixes up Christianity and Confucianism in celestial confu sion.has lived m i^ngianch ana speaas jcmgiisn well. . "I suppose some of your countrymen here 2gn write ?" was asked of- him in the hearing our "correspondent. i "Certainly; all of them." "What! and read too ?" "Certainly?their own language." '"Well, that's more than can be said of many other laborers in this country." Are they contented ?" "Yes." "Do they like the climate ?" "Yes; it's what they are used to." "Have they written this to their friends in China?" 'Yes; all of them. I had to take 'much letters'" to the city yesterday." "Whew! We'll have labor enough here directly when those letters get over." "Yes; there will be much Chinese here by and by." m WHAT THE NEGROES THINK OF IT. On the same plantation there are employed some fifty or sixty negroes, whose quarters are but a stone's throw from the Chinese en-campment. I spent some time in getting at their sentiments, which appear to be a mixture of distrust and blindly ignorant depreciation. At first they were reluctant to speak on the subject, but a way being found to loosen their tongues, spokesman No. 1 (a stout, powerful negro) gave his opinion: "I dun care; dey can't do me nuffen. Da'rs too much work any how. S'pose dey turn me away here, den I goes somewhere else. Dat's all." narrow-chested, worn-out darkey, employed as a sort of make-shift watchman around a plantation house, was emphatic in Ills opinion, and found many to agree with him that' "Dem men would nebber do <le jwork." "Why .not?" "Well, dey aint got de strength." The youngest and -weakest of the Chinese,, meanwhile, Would have found little difficulty in doubling this old darkey up and dfopping him into the Mississippi. The more sensible of the colored hands seem to appreciate theLgravity of the experimentthat is being triea/and all over the city one hearfc^talk of "dis new nation up.dar at i Millandon's."^ This word "nation," by the way, is strangely applied by the'^beOToes^Waiting in the ante-room of the Gmmw residence the 1 other day, one of the VfiRF representatives of Algiers gave an apt lfhuatration in point. He was angiy at being refused admittance by n > J?2 me vjoveruui a iihumw uwi*a(njn?. j?vn you jes look here (said he) I'm a black man. (Black he certainly was.) Dat's one nation.1 Dis here gentleman heV a white man (your correspondent admitted the softimpMohmen t) Dat's another nation. But d^iwfman (inhe ain't no nation at all 1" The acceptance of the Chinese into the family of "nations" by the colored people may therefore be regarded as, in some measure, a compliment It is not likely they will attempt any organized opposition to the introduction of Chinese labor into Louisiana. There was an attempt to get up an anti-Chinese labor convention at Baton Rouge some time ago, but it fizeled out The New Orleans Tribune, edited by a man of color, 6ays: "It is well known to our readers that we V??tv?? a 1 txra ra annlrart lrindlv of the Chinese. I To their credit, be it said, they have ho spirit i of caste which should lead them to refuse association with us. Our people have no dislike to them. So hurrah for John Chinanftn, in Massachusetts or Louisiana." The feeling seems to be pretty general. Throughout the State of Louisiana the negroes are, for the most part, well advised and well led, and number among themselves many men of education and intelligence, valuable and influential citizens of the State. Only as a labor class, like the Massachusetts shoe- . makers, they were getting tyrannical, and John Chinaman has, in the*nck. of time, stepped in to bring things tb sqproper. level. COMPLETE SUCCE8S OP THE EXPERIMENT, The first day's yrork of the Chinese in the cane fields of Louisiana was entirely success- . ful. The hands showed themselves apt to learn and docile to obey, and got through an . exceedingly good average day's work with no signs of fatigue, despite a' broiling sun. Planters all over the State are investigating the matter, with a View of adopting Chinese labor themselves. This movement is already giving such an impetus to rice and sugar cultivation as cannot fail to be in the highest degree beneficial to the States. / * ? From the Chicago Tribune. THE NEEDLE GUN AND THE CHESSAPOT. The suddehness with which Austria was overwhelmed with disastfflv^and^efeat in her impressive than hergradual withdrawal before the combined forces of France and Italy, in 1859. The power of Austria^as not materially less in the later war than in the earlier, and it was certainly far more vigorously put forth to resist Prussia than to resist France | and Italy combined. Moreover, while France was not exhausted by her Italian war with Austria, she certainly, for the time, put forth, under the eye of the Emperor Napoleon himself, every energy that she could command. So far as the relative powers of France and Prussia can be judged from the relative ease with which they thrashed Austria, it is cer- . tain that Prussia performed that feat far more easily than France and Italy combined. Indeed, her defeat of Austria was so overwhelming and terrific that Europe fairly held her breath with astonishment. There was an air of genius and dash in Prussia's rapid victories ending in Sadowa, indicating that she who could do so much, with such swiftness, could do greater things if required. France at the close of her war, had just begun her campaign against the integrity of Austria, while Prussia could have marched into Vienna almost without another conflict Austria lay prostrate at her feet Judging from these facts, Prussia must have some element of military strength -that stands apart from the question of numbers. This, it was universally, though on the part of high military authorities, reluctantly conceded, was the -Prussian needle-gun. ' This arm had been subjected to partial tests in England, France, Austria, and the United States, prior to its use in the war with Austria, and had been voted down by the critics of nearly, or quite all these countries. Some had objected that the needle was liable to rust and break; that its rapidity of firing would cause the soldier to fire away his ammunition in too short a space of time; that it would kick so powerfully as to disable the soldier; that its cartridges, in which the ball, powder, and percussion material are all included, would not bear ordinary exposure to the weather ; that it could not be used during the rain, etc., etc., etc. Men whose education is complete, learn with great difficulty, as the results of a single campaign with the needle gun proved. It was worth, perhaps, half, a million of men to Prussia. The complaint of the Austrian troops was that the needle gun mowed them down with ease, before the Prussians came within range of the Austrian arms. Under such circumstances, they were beaten by the gun alone, for it requires no valor to fight with a foe who cannot get you within reach of his weapons. None of the disadvantages which old fogy critics attributed to the needle gun applied to it in practice., Abount this time the French indulged in some glorification of their own Chassepot rifle, which is about the equivalent of a Sharpe's riflo Tint. IVn'q too a mnrfl tJlfi r P.all It, of nation al egotism than of impartial experiment The needle gun is, without question, the most formidable infantry arm ever constructed, and the most rapid firer, and, unless some valid objection can be brought, sufficient to outweigh these sterling merits, it is the most desirable arm for military .use in the world. It is claimed that, by &n inherent superiority in its mode of igniting its charge, so as to secure its most perfect combustion, it attains about double the power of any other arm, and will throw its ball from four and a half to $ye miles, which is equal to the longest cannon range. It is a breech-loading, single-barreled, nonrevolving rifle. With a movement of an apparent trigger, a section of the top of the j barrel slides back far enough to admit the ' cartridge to be placed in the cavity of the barrel, whu Ii.iij iluutP^^gunaer with hU left hand, without removing the piece from his shoulder, or, necessarily, using his arm. Another movement restores the section of the top of the barrel to its place, and firmly fastens it, ready at the instjj|jJBfr firing. It can fired, therefore, twel^rcmfes in a minute, until the barrel is too hot to admit of the introduction of the cartridge, and this ^ is not easily done, as the cartridge ignites by friction only, and. not by mere heat, and the time it remains in the chamber before being fired is but an instant Behind the cartridge, jas it lies when .the gun is loaded, is th^ttttNnW, about two and a half inche^jRlHHUirough which the needle darts Sc^WHMHRBntidl^ to pierce the charge. The canJ^Ps of course, made up with the ball iir front; then without wadding, the powde% and then the percussion substance, into wfeich the needle strikes, by - ' ' ? 5li A. the force of a common wire spring, waen me trigger is pulle^b" ^TS all' th^circ^aa^.'giuM the chwrge, having no access to any air, except that found in the interstices of the powder after it is tightly rammed down, attains only an imperfect combustion, or buns in part after it leaves the gun. The quantity of smoke is a measure of the imperfectnesB of the combustion, as only that potion of the carbon goes off in smoke nhmyia not perfectly exploded into its coqgptuent gasseg which are invisible. m It is claimed, however, for the Prussia! gun, that the air in the chamber through which the needle darts to strike the cartridge, supplies the exploding powder with all the oxygen it can take until it leaves the muzzle of the bsrreL This, it is claimed) combines the explosion with an expansion, which, as the powder burns from the rear forward, H sures its total combustion, and utmost expP rive force, increasing in intensity until it leaves the barrel. This, too, enables the gunner to use a tighter ball, and so discharge it with more perfect rotation, thereh^^uing greater accuracy of aim. It is 'diijSIbi this peculiar atmospheric arrahgemtt?ffiatno recoil of the Prussian gun becomes so serious, a matter in :*z use. Bufawe do not remember that in the AurtriqmtiHtiign this occasioned much comment, tSHPr sonurhf those who tary authorities, have repretfj^^Htffc: use of a frame support to th8EjH|K(fo, under some circumstances, be d^^|HH^ Another argument for the usf^Wmese supports for the gun was that it enabled the L.m'nM nn/in ?nf llio aim f A frpAn if SUIUlCt, llAVJllg UUt/C gun UU3 IWUl) uu uvvf -?] so that the smoke of his first volley would not destroy his aim for the second or twentieth. He- might draw "a bead" on an advancing column before receiving his order to fire, plant his supports, and continue to fire after the smoke had gathered to any extent, knowing that every ball must tell On the advancing or retreating foe. The waste of ammunition among raw troops often, arises from their firing into the smoke without seeing the gamy; tjfhe Pruasiaajgnn explodes withies* smoke, arid may be so mounted as to preserve its aim for any number of discharges, until the barrel heats. We have spoken of the experiments with the needle-gun in other countries as "partial," because the elements of the ignition, or percussion material, were purchased as a chemical secret by the Prussian Government, and all possible care has been taken to conceal the exact process of manufacture. So far ae this was concerned, however1, experimenters in other countries have bad no difficulty ic manufacturing a material that would explode with, perhaps, sufficient ease and certainty by being struck with the needle. If the%reat claims put forth for the needle gun are true, as has scarcely been doubted since the battle of Sadowa f If it combine* twice the projectile power, with greater certainty of aim and rapidity of firing, then the Prussians have: as great an advantage, relatively to the French, in the use Of this arm as they found in it against thd Austrians The Chassepot does not differ materially froir any other good breech-loading rifle. It hni no elements of peculiar or marvelous power On the contrary, the Austrians soon learned a dread of the needle gun, and a conscious' ness of their inability to cope with it, onlj comparable to the fear that bow-and-arrow warriors have of the flash of gunpowder. THE TWO PARTRIDGES. A mau by the name of Gombaux caught c couple of partridges behind a hedge. He tool them home and ordered them to be roasted but entertaining a wish that the priest of th< town, to whom he was under certain obliga tions should share his good luck, he sallied forth to invite him, pending the cooking oi the birds by Marie, his swife. Before his re turn the partridges were cooked, and Mari< took them off the spit to put them on the ta ble; but in moving them a piece of the flesl of one adhered to the spit. She ate it; but you would have done the same thing; but urn fortunately it tasted so delicious that she wat tempted to take another little piece of the part ridge. Well all of us in this world have our vari ous pleasures. -One loves money, anothei horses, a third poetry. Marie loved delicato food, and for one delicious mouthful sh( would have given all the money, horses, and poems in the world. The temptation to continue eating now wa? irresistible. She took one of the birds, and. leg by leg, wing by wing, she devoured it Still her husband did not return. One more partridge remained. She tasted the heck which led her to breaking off a wing, and th< 1 " * *1 ? ?_i_;J en a 01 11 was mere were iiu pmuiugco iciv A moment after Gombaux entered and inquir ed if the partridges were cooked. 'Alas!' answered Marie, 'a horrid cat, wher my back was turned a moment, entered the room and stole them.' The peasant, not believing this, flew into a terrible rage, and darting at his wife, threat' ened to immolate her. 'It was only my fun?only my fun!' she shouted. You imbecile, couldn't you see ii was a joke? I have covered them up to keej them warm.' 'It's very lucky for you it is so,' answerec the man, 'for tentrcdieu, they would have cos you dearer than at the market Hand m< my goblet and best napkin. I'll go and wai my guests in the farmyard. _ I mean to tak our dinner into the fields and eat it on th grass.' 'A capital idea,' said the woman. 'Bu first go and sharpen your knife, ready t commence; it wants sharpening badly.' 'Save yourself, sir?save yourself!' Mari / i Marshy whispered. <ffl!ere is no time to be lost Gambaux will soon retain, and then you are a dead man. ' 4 i 'What do you mean tajjangUke this!'^acclaimed the priest. '^.re yoomad%ith your Gambaux? Of course he wjfl^Dtuhi, and I hope very joon, too; for we are to eafc.a couple of partridge^ together.' ? '\j* \ This isonly a ruse togetya^jjHC, sir,' she answered speaking rapiil^^KLhave no partridges here, as you ; huufetg^ts . W lay hands xoi^you, and ^eait mat l?he catches you he will cut off |rar earn, at him there in the yard, shc^feing his knife. \ Do not wait until he enters. yop * sir, to run fbr your life.' She spoke so earnestly th&yflHfefid&tt * possessed his sold, fie H8p|gP|khAt and made a hasty exit 'What fait?* he asked, 'The priest has been here, has,. sdktched aw&ygho partridges and made off w5th If yow do not puisne him tlf&y ate lost* \ In a moment Gombanx was tearing after him knife in hand. The priest, finding himself pursued, rushed on for dear life For ' some time they ran thus, the one shouting out ' terrible menaces, the other half dead from fright, turning his head at every step. Fortunately the priest had the advantage, both in | kyne and swiftness. He gained "his house, liked the door, and hid himself away in his flffom. Neither one nor the other, however, had any partridge that day. From the French. A NEW ANECDOTE OF DANIEL WEB8TER. During Mr. W.'s residence in Portsmouth, N. H., in his younger days, there was a furni ture dealer named Judkins, doing business in Vthe town, who was a very well-informed as -Jk I well ambitious man. He was patronized |3 I by Mr. Webster, who often dropped into the shop to order or superintend the making of ?B some .piece of furniture. These opportunities * of conversing with a man so learned as Mr. W. were the delight of Mr. Judkiirt life; and on the Removal of .the former to Boston, ihe payment of a considerable debt due Mr. J. was willingly left for future settlement. Attempts were made at various times to collect the debt ?always in vain. Finally Mr. Judkins determined to go to Boston and see Mr. Webster 't himself He reached the city after a long and I fatiguing stage ride, and making a Sunday toilet, proceeded to the iaige. house on the cor* ner of High and Summer streets. "Is Mr. Webster in?" asked he of the servant who answered the bell. "Yes, but he cannot possibly be seen." "But I must see him." "No; he is entertaining some Washington gentlemen ?they are dining." Mr. Judkins had heard of subterfuges, and believed not the serving man. "Well, I will come in and wait till dinner is over." The puzzled servant, needed below ' stairs, decided to take the inpertunrfte stranger's name to his mastgfr Fancy the suipggf^fe^ , of Mr Judkins at ^*4 Mr. WehstCTra^M^^^^j would take^pdenial, andcarried^M^R^i- * . bly, almost^troddcing him as "my old and .dear friend, Mr. Judkins of Portsmouth,"and ff i beating him between a distinguished Bostonian and the secretary of the navy; and to use the , words of the worthy cabinet maker, "I was i for four mortal hours just as good as any body; my opinion was asked on a good many sub- ? , jects, and they all seemed to think I knew a j good deaL I was invited to vifeit them, and L to go t^ Washington, and every body qsked , me to drin^ wine with them; and, by George! I made up my mind never to ask for my bill again. I was a poor man, and needed my , money, but X had been treated as I had never I expected to be treated in this world, and I was i willing to pay for it" ? '' THE WAB AND COTTON. The St Louis Democrat}ias an article on the question "Will the war cause cotton to de' cline ?" and says; This is a question which is now agitating thousands. We claim no infallibility of prophecy, yet we fed strongly impressed with die conviction that the ques| should be answered in the negative. Of course no account is to be taken of the firstperturbar tions in markets, which become apparent upon r the outbreak of a gigantic war. These are, more or less, the result of panicky feelings, often purposely intensified by market manipulators, and give no indication of what the peri manent state of the market may be. Now, as : far as regards the states of cotton during the ; war, we reason that the demand^for fabrics > will be fully as great throughout the civilized . world as if the world enjoyed peace, and our I experience has shown, that war times are pef riods of great waste, and we presume the same - improvidence will attend the operations of the > contending armies of Europe. We expect, therefore, an augmented demand and an in t crease in the price of cotton, rather than a : closing of factories and a serious decline, as . many seem to fear. i This country will be a neutral, and will run every loom, lathe, forge and furnace Bhe possesses to their fullest capacity, if the war is even of six months duration, and the prospects are that it will.be of much greater length. 5 Should all of Germany, Russia, Austria, Italy, i Denmark and France be drawn into the war, I millions of men would be engaged in destroying fabrics as well as lives, very rapidly. i These fabrics must be replaced promptly. , Soldiering is destructive to clothes, as all sol diers know, and' the raiment thus worn out ! must be manufactured somewhere. England , will do a large part of this manufacturing, and i will demand increased quantities of cotton to > do it with. We shall also do a large share of ^ 1 will Via tMtiolt lam. llj ailll OUT liOliiC uuuoiuu^uuu nm w uauv** mmger than it has been since the war. Ia short, i we cannot see any reason for supposing that s cotton will decline, while other products will advance. ; , t *?, " The Beef Question.?-The decrease in the ratio of beef cattle to the population in 3 this country during the last ten years is said t to be twenty per cent, the increase in popu) lation being thirty-three per cent In 1860 with a population of 31,417,331, we had 35,I 640,337 neat cattle in the country, while now, t with a population of more than 40,000,000 t according to the report of the Department of\ t Agriculture, we have only 31,633,069, showing e a net-decrease since 1860 of more than e 4,000,000 animals. In Texas alone, since 1866, the decrease in cattle has been 414,137, t the number in the State at this time bong o only 2,697,338 to 3,111,475 in 1668. The cause of this is said to be the great inotehse. e in dairy farming. "1 tJV