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WABarnett ^ i lewis m. grist, proprietor.J $nbe]jenkit Jamiljr ftetospaper: Jar % |)ramatian of % |jaMraI, Sacral, ^grienltaal ant> Commercial Interests of % Sotrtji. teems?$3.00 a tear, in advance. VOL. 17. YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1871. NO. 4Q. ' ! i?i. TT._1 . J_:_1 ?;n jlu Original ? ftarg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. X??SY&?Cf. A TALE OF BEFORE THE WAR. BY ALICE ARNOLD. CHAPTER XL At Delraonico's, Rose met Mr. Leynton, who said that he had just been to call on them, and at her urgent invitation, accompanied her back to the hotel to dinner. Louis was sitting in the public drawing-room,! reading the Herald, when they entered. He I seemed surprised and elevated his eye-brows i slightly as he bade Mr. Leynton "good after- j noonbut Rose, playfully hiding her eyes i ?* 'hnndL/SM/>knnirl nnnl/1 DAUf I witu uor uauu&ui wuioi) oaiu a/vu u ovuiuj uvi* y > don't call me crazy; bat after you went out1 this morning I felt such an irresistible long-,! ing for some of that nice cream at Delmoni- j co's, that braving the prospect of your lord-1 ship's displeasure, I resolved to indulge my fancy. And see?it ha3 really done me good. Then I met our friend here, whom I found in a state of despair at having just missed us, so brought him with me to recover his spirits." _ "And very glad I am to see him, certainly," said her husband, still a little constrainedly; "but I could not imagine who had spirited you away. And now suppose you go and take off your bonnet and let us have dinner; for I have not expended my appetite upon cream." Rose ran lightly out of the room and ascended to her floor, wishing very much that she had time to have a good, hearty cry. When she reached her own room her attention was attracted by the sight of a large square package marked with her name, ana standing upon a table conspicuously near the door. Rose went up to it, and undoing the wrappings, saw that it was a pasteboard box, which, upon opening, she found to contain the identical set of sables which Mrs. Curtis had told her of, atC's. "Oh! how kind?how thoughtful of JLouis!" she exclaimed, then sighingly, "merciful Heavens! how hard it is that I cannot give him all my confidence, but must have some secrets from him?* Oh ! my precious husband! My precious sister! Why do your interests conflict so as regards me ?" Then the tears came in good earnest. There was no keeping them back; and Louis was obliged to wait a good hour yet for his dinner. When Mrs. Velmonte appeared at that meal (which was taken, as usual, in their private parlor) she was gay and smiling, and full of charming small talk. Her hair was most tastefully arranged, and Mr. Leynton thought that he had never before seen her look so pretty and interesting. As soon as the guest had taken his leave, and Rose found herself alone with her husI band, she-threw her arms around his neck and < kissing him emphatically, "Oh ! you dear, generous creature," she said, "who put it into your delightful head to get those charming sables for me?" "Who, but yourself, Madame ?" "Oh! Louis, you didn't surely think I was hinting for them ?" "Do they suit your ladyship's fancy ?" "They are altogether and perfectly lovely," said Rose. "But, dearest," she added, coloring, "don't you think now that you spend just a little too much on me ?" Louis turned quickly aside. His brow darkened and he did not reply ; and Rose, fearing she had wounded his delicacy, hastened to change the subject. "Where shall we go, this evening ?" she asked. "Any where you please.", 1 I if __ .11 i. "inen let us spena me evening an wj ourselves." "Let us do no such thing. You had better make the most of New York while you can; for Heaven only knows when you will have an opportunity of being here again. Come with me to the opera." To the opera they accordingly went, and there met several gentlemen with whom they had become acquainted at the watering places. Louis was very moody and abstracted during the drive home, and Rose went to bed with a bad head-ache, in consequence. The next day their parlor was thronged with callers, mostly gentlemen. Rose was in high spirits and conversed brilliantly; but Louis was no more affable than courtesy obliged him to be. They dined earlier than usual, and as soon as the meal was concluded he took up his hat, saying that he had some business, and went out. Rose lounged about the room in an unsettled kind of way, and at length resolved to go out also. She sauntered along Broadway until she came to "Ball, Black & Co's," which establishment she entered, and calling on the clerk to show her some bracelets, was really diverted, overlooking the glittering array, when her attention was attracted by a lady who came in. She stood with her back to Rose, who scanning her in a mirror, was admiring her elegant form and the glistening dark silk she wore, with a shawl of costly lace thrown gracefully over her shoulders, and the magnificent white ostrich plume in her hat; when the stranger turning, Rose, with a little cry of delight, recognized Beatrix, looking very handsome, slightly rouged, and with her dark hair in Grecian braids. She smiled, her own rare, beautiful smile, and held out her hand to her sister, saying in a low tone, "Come and have an ice at F's. It is very private there, and I want to have a long talk with you." Rose assented immediately, and they swept off before the eyes of a discomfited salesman, who had made quite certain that the lady who had asked for so much jewelry, and seemed such a good judge of it, would make some important purchase. As soon as possible they turned out of Broadway, and were presently discussing sweetmeats and ices at P's. Beatrix was wide awake now, and talked a great deal, giving her sister an insight into an actress' life, which, in spite of herself, it saddened and pained Rose to hear. ^ "But I shall succeed; I shall eventually attain both wealth and fame?real renown. I have never doubted it," said Beatrix, earnestly, and her great wondrous eyes kindled and glowed as Rose loved to see them do. "And now tell me something more about yourself, petite; do you ever write now-a-days ?" "I have written scarcely anything at all, this summer," said Rose, "only little sketches and notes here and there." Then she told her sister about Mr. Moss, oi Boston. "That is very encouraging, love," said Beatrix. "Let me see?you have been working on this 'Imogen' for years. I think you had some of the plot arranged before I left home." "Yes," said Rose, "but it has been very much altered since then." "How near completion is it ?" asked Beatrix. "Only a few chapters." "Go on and finish it, petite; yours, at least, will be a profession which the world honors, if it pays it very poorly ; but the latter, I suppose, is scarcely an object with you." "Neither the former nor the latter," said Rose, a little fretfully. "I never can make it ray profession ; for Louis does not admire blue * ? j ladies?in fact, detests tnem as a ciass, anu would not like me to devote the^ necessary time to it." A peculiar smile flitted over Beatrix' features, but she made no comment. Presently she got up, saying, "Well, dear, it is time we should part now, for you ought not to be out any later. I shall hardly see you again, before you leave. So good-bye, darling." "Good-bye, my own precious Bee." They clasped each other very closely for an instant, then went their different ways. But Rose always felt more like crying than anything else after one of these interviews with Beatrix. It was quite dark when she reached the hotel, and she found Louis lying on the couch in her dressing room. "Are you sick, dear?" she asked, turning down the bright gas flame directly above his head. "No," be answered, abruptly. "Are you vexed with me for staying out so late?" "I could not expect you to come in sooner, madame. It must have been hard to leave such pleasant company. I'll tell you what it is, Rose," he said, raising his voice and sitting up, "It isn't the most agreeable thing in the world for a man to hear and know that his wife spends some part of every day in the society of actresses." If a thunderbolt had suddenly fallen at poor Rose's feet, it could not have startled her more. She grew deadly pale, and trembling .>11 nn Vior IrnpAa HpqiHp t.hp nil UVCIj Vi4 UV* MMVVW WVW.?.? couch, saying piteously, "Oh! Louis, forgive me." "Too much like acting, that," he said, drily. "But, seriously now, Mrs. Velmonte, do you know it is reported among our friends here that you design studying for the stage?" "Who has said so?" demanded Rose, haughtily, rising to her feet. "Several men?in fact, everybody we know here," he answered. "You have been seen two consecutive days in company with an actress, and?" < "Whose news is this ? Who saw me ?" asked Rose. "Little Lawrence Steele, at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, yesterday; and I, myself, walking down Broadway, an hour and a half ago." "Oh! Louis?" "I did, most certainly, Mrs. Velmonte; and now, let me tell you, once for all, I highly disapprove of such associates for you. Actresses are not ladies, they are not fit companions for ladies, and their acquaintance is by no means conducive to a lady's good reputation. They are vulgar, improper persons?" "Oh! Louis, surely not all of them," broke in Rose. "They are all considered as such," said her husband. "Not Jenny Lind," suggested Rose, timidly. "Jenny Lind is not an actress, or even an opera singer, but a cantatrice; and I would not have you even like Jenny Lind. Well, you are weeping now, I am sorry to have distressed you, but you will never, with my consent, play in charades again. And now, I must tell you, we will return home the day after to-morrow. I have engaged our passage in the 'Sinora.' And when we are back again in L ," he added, in a kinder tone, "My ** * n i r* j little wife will get over ner wua iancies, auu be a sweet, domestic little woman; is it not so ?" drawing her head upon his shoulder. But Rose was sobbing convulsively, and could not answer. "There, I have frightened and excited you, poor child," he said, tenderly caressing her as he spoke. "Let me take off your hat, darling," and removing the little plumed jockey, he stroked and smoothed her beautiful hair. "I am going down stairs, now," he said, at length, "and while I think of it, here is a hundred dollars. You had better make all your purchases to-morrow." "I don't want anything more, thank you," said Rose. "You haven't got a velvet cloak ?" "Yes, I have, you gave me one last week," she said. "Then buy another silk dress, or a bonnet, or a pair of gloves. You can spend it, I dare say," he said, cheerfully,as he arose and went out of the door. CHAPTER XII. A week later, Mr. and Mrs. Velraoute were at home. Not at home, either, exactly, but at Paine's hotel, in L . It was the second day of their arrival, and Rose was alone in her apartment, lying on the bed, wrapped in her dressing gown, and feeling very weary and depressed. She had a vamio unrefined dread of coming* evil. All ' _ o during the passage Louis had been moody and abstracted, and had hardly spoken at all so different from his usual gay, light-hearted self, that she felt convinced something had happened, which he was keeping from her Even before leaving New York, his appetite had failed him ; his spirits, when with stram gers, were so forced, and when alone with hei his mood was so "dark and gloomy," that all the joy seemed to have died out of her life. She tried to shake off her dullness, anc | reason away her fears. It was wrong to be sc I depressed, she argued with herself. It wa.? only the transition, the reaction, as it were after a summer of such perfect and intens< delights, (Rose, like all poetic natures, had t sense of enjoyment as keen in proportion a; her capacity for suffering was great) as sh< had experienced. A little rest and quie would do her good ; and then she was goinj to try and be a capital house-keeper, and en i tertain, in first-class style, so as to makeLouii , j proud of her. She wondered what the plau- J i tation was like, and if the house was large I enough to hold all the people she had invited , ? j to visit them there the coming winter. (Bythe-by, Louis had never seemed to second those invitations very warmly. What could ; be the reason ?) and if there was a library in 1 the house, and a room which might serve as a ' study for her. In the midst of these reflections, there was a light tap at the door. "Come in," said Rose, abstractedly. The door opened and Helen entered. "I saw your name in the paper," she said, "and as soon as I finished a lesson I have to , give at nine, I came, and?" , "And found me," cried Rose, springing up and throwing her arms around her sister's neck. "Dear Helen, how pale you look! You work too hard, ma prccieuse" ; "I have got an increase of music scholars," i said Helen, "which of course occupies a good deal of my time; but I feel much more cheerI ful, for they, are a great assistance to us." j "Oh! Hsten, I hatSio think of your teachI :? ~ o.ikolofnnno tulion T such a care I UIg lUi a ouuoiai^uuvj ??mvo ? ?- - . less, easy, extravagant existence. What a pity it is that you are not married, too." "Do you think so, dear?" said Helen, smiling. "Yes, of course," a woman is a thousand times better off married than single." "All married women do not say so." "Because all have not the same good fortune," said Rose. "Well, I mean I wish that *; you were married just as well as I am." Helen looked hard and wistfully into her sister's eyes, then said, "Tell me about Beatrix, love." Rose related all she could of their elder i sister, not mentioning, however, with what results to herself their last interview had been I attended; and the two sisters talked unceas- 1 ingly until a neighboring clock struck one, which caused Rose to start up. "It is time for me to dress," she said, "for f Louis will be in presently, and he dislikes so much to see me in deshabille; but don't go, Helen, pray. You can help me fix, if you i like, and then I want you to see the latest mode of hair-dressing, which I learned in New York." "How much style you have acquired, dearest," said Helen, looking a deal of admiration, when Rose's elegant dinner toilette was completed, "and now I must go." "What, can't you stay to dinner ?" "No, darling, not to-day." "Stop a minute, Helen ; do you think mamma will come and see me ?" "I doubt it Had you not better come to us?" "I will, to-morrow, if you think so. My head aches too badly forme to go out to-day." "I hope it may be better by then," said Helen. "Good-bye." i "Good-bye, darling." Louis did not come in until sometime past the usual dinner hour. He chid Rose rather impatiently for waiting on him, and took her evidently, not<4h<? best of humors. When she had been served, he ordered several 1 different things for himself, and soon after, 1 pushing aside his plate with the untasted viands, called for a bottle of wine, and drank off three glasses, one after another; then < "Have you finished ?" he asked of his wife, who had been playing with her knife and fork for ceremony sake. She was only too glad to leave the table and 1 get back to her own room. It was now quite 1 dark, and Louis, who had not once remarked 1 her becoming attire, went off to smoke a cigar ' on the front piazza. After tea he went out again ; and Rose, sitting in her room, tried to J read. She had got hold of a volume of "Ten- J nyson," and opening at "Idyls of the King," 1 began to read "Enid." But her thoughts were not upon the page before her. Thrice 1 she repeated, without comprehending the sense 1 of it: 1 "Break not, 0 woman's heart, but still endure ; I Break not, for thou art royal, but endure, Remembering all the beauty- of that star ! Which shone so close beside thee, that ye made . One light together, but has past and left 1 The crown of lonely splendor." , The fourth time that she read, the book ( dropped from her hands, and she clasped them together, shivering. It sounded like a prophe- j cy. Great God! what calamity was about to | befall her? Was she to be left alone, with only the memory of her heart's deep love ? . Was that star which shone so close beside her ] that they made one light together," to "pass anrl lanva" bar tbp "nrnvtrn rtf lrmplv finlfln- . dor?" She tried to rid herself of these mournful ( fancies, and resuming the book, it opened at ( "Mariana," and the first words her eye fell | upon were? "She only said, 'My life is dreary' , 'He cometh not,' she said : She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' " Again she closed the book, laid it on the table, and covering her face with her hands, moaned out, "Oh! Louis, Louis." "Here I am. What do you want with me?" She looked up in surprise, and saw her husband standing beside her. His voice sounded very calm, but his face was deadly pale, his eyes had a wild look about them, and he seemed suddenly to have grown many years older. "You came in so quietly that I did not hear j you," said Rose, getting up and putting her ,! hands caressingly upon his shoulders. ; j "You wont feel much inclined to pet me, j after this," he said, bitterly, averting his face. "Why do you say so ?" she asked sorrow, i fully ; "and why do you look so ill, dearest ?" j "Rose, I have got something to tell you." , I "Toll if mo 1 nuo " olio cairl rwmflv * j *vi* iv mvj <vt V) ouv ouiu gvuvij I i They were standing by the bureau, he leanr ! ing backward on his elbow, with his gloomy ,; gaze fixed upon the opposite wall as he spoke; [ | and she beside him, her chin dropped into the i IJ palm of her fair hand, her elbow resting on ! .! the marble slab, the round, white arm, from j > | which the lace sleeve had fallen back, exposed j to view, and her dark, intense blue eyes fixed . r with an expression of tender solicitude upon 1, his countenance. "I have just come from my father's," Louis j 1 began. "His reception of me was most in-' suiting, and the manner in which he treats j 3 me is a blot on the family honor. He sternly j , refused me any pecuniary assistance, which I 3 have a right to demand of him ; and, now, to v let you understand how rash and cruel to you 3 I have been this summer. When I was mar3 ried I had ten thousand dollars in ready t money. After our expenses here are paid, I j shall have but fifty of it left, and no hope, no -; expectation of anything else from any quarter, 3 i whatsoever. Now, Rose, you know you des pise me for my wretchedly reckless, improvi- J dent course." "I don't know anything, but that you are j my dear darling," she said. Nevertheless, she grew white and red by turns, as she sank into a chair. It was a great, and to her, wholly unexpected blow. She, who had suffered so much from poverty in her childhood, had reveled in the idea of the wealth which she believed her husband to possess, had grown deliciously familiar with all sorts of luxurious habits, and learned to regard as necessaries so many things whose uses she had scarcely known before. Ah ! it is a bitter thing to sip the nectar cup, and ere we are half satisfied, to have it dashed from our lips. Had she known wealth and splendor all her life, the prospect of poverty would not have seemed half so dreadful as it now did, ; after her brief enjoyment of a seemingly inexhaustible fortune. She could not yet quite ; realize how things stood. Jt seemed to her as though she were passing through a horribly night-mare, or just awaking from a very love-7 ly dream. Her husband's voice aroused her from the j Dainful reverie. He had thrown himself upon | I the bed, aud moving his head restlessly about i the pillow, was watching her with a gloomy, i despairing look. "How can you fancy that you still love me, Rose," he said, "when you know that it is all my selfish vanity which has brought this upon you ?" Rosalie got up, came to the bedside, and kissing him softly, murmured, "My heart's dearest treasure, repose and be still; I've loved thee in pleasure?I'll love thee in ill." Her soft voice aud softer caress seemed to soothe him. "Don't reproach yourself so, dearest," she Baid fondly. "While it lasted, you gave me of your substance freely ,* I am as much to blame as you, and now we must bear our trials and hardships together. Have you not still a plantation ?" she asked, innocently. Louis smiled bitterly. "The plantation you speak of," he said, sitting upright, "is a hundred acres of miserable, neglected land, not worth the money it would take to feed and clothe the few negroes that are upon it. The house, no doubt, is in wretched repair, for the late owner was an eccentric old bachelor, who lived a very frugal and secluded existence, given up to antiquarian researches, and buried in dusty tomes, and took no thought of his house or grounds. In this desirable condition, it has come into ray possession. A valuable piece of property, truly. I never, for an instant, thought of planting it, or living there, but now there is nothing else for us to do. We will go up on the twelve o'clock traiu, to-morrow, and live for a week orso, on our present funds. When they are exhausted, if the malaria does not spare me the trouble, I will put my pistol to your forehead?after that to my own ; and we will pass off the world's stage, in true Romeo and Juliet style." Rose laid her fingers on his lips. "Don't make such horrid jests, . said, faintly. "You are so much worried and distressed now, that your mind magnifies the miseries of your situation. We will go to the plantation, as you say, to-morrow, and I i doubt not but that I can mauage to fix things i up comfortably and economize; and there j must surely be enough available soil on the place to furnish us with food. We can have a. card en. You and I will both work in it: and we will make for ourselves a little Arcadia, and live there quite happy, and indepen- , dent of all the world." i To this cheerful and encouraging view of I the future, Louis did not reply; nor did the j look of niute misery fade from his face, as he : arose and began to prepare for bed. Long after he was asleep, Rose sat under j the light writing a letter. When it was con- , eluded, she went noiselessly to her trunk, and searching down in the bottom of it, brought f up a large pile of manuscript, from which she i selected several short articles, and making i them up into a package, directed it, as she had | done the letter, to "F. F. Moss, Esq., editor Df Literary Gazette, Boston, Mass." ; Then she stole softly out of the room, and , going to the letter box, deposited it safely : therein and hurried back. i "Now I may be of some use to him," she ! whispered to herself, as she combed out her long hair and plaited it up for the night Notwithstanding his heavy trouble, Louis 1 3lept soundly; but the dawn broke upon < Rose's wide open eyes that had not closed Dnce through all the long, pain-freighted hours of that memorable night. It was a wholesome, though involuntary vigil. The stern ' reality of the life that was before her loomed up to her mental vision, until she was able to look it steadily in the face, and to feel that the brief, butterfly existence, was forever pa3t. Henceforward it would be among the bygones of her life. The old aspirations, which had lain dormant all summer, revived with fresh vigor and expansion, and a giant resolve was born in her nature. , [to be continued.] A New Kind of Compass.?At a late sitting of the French Academy of Science (says Galignani),a curious communication was received from M. Zaliwski which, if it were borne out, would be invaluable to navigation. He states that if a hollow cylinder made of thin material, open at the top, and provided with a sharp edged bottom, be properly ballaoforl nnrl t.h*?n nut. into a tub or other vessel filled with water, will soon move in a never varying direction from West to East. The round tin boxes in which concentrated milk is preserved will do perfectly for the experiment, which will become more and more perceptible the oftener the same cylinder is made to do duty in that way. If this be true and practicably applicable on board ship, the advantage to be derived from it will be immense, especially in the case of iron built vessels, which, it is well known, occasion very considerable deviations of the needle. Indeed, tables of correctness have to be made for each craft of the kind by experiment, and mistakes j which may cause shipwreck, are often the ; consequence of miscalculation in this respect. Now, if by M. Zaliwski's discovery, the direction from West to East can always be as-: certained, the bearings of the needle may be J corrected with much greater certainty. Be Virtuous.?"Be virtuous and you will : be happy," said a father to his son, who was leaving home to take the first year in college. "I will, dad," answered the son, "but I shall lose a devilish lot of fun." The old man collapsed. "Be virtuous and you will be eccentric" was . the Artemus Ward way of looking at it, "Ee virtuous, fear God and keep your bow- j els open" is the doctor's maxim. "Be virtuous and you will have a soft thing?on heaven" is the motto of the Young Meni s Christian Association. ??r*-?? fpstritaatts fUMitig. THE NEW DEPARTURE. GREAT SPEECH OF THE HON. WM. 8. GROESBECK, OF OHIO. Hon. Wm. S. Groesbeck addressed a mass meeting of the Democracy at Steubenville, Ohio, on the 13th instant, and his speech is pronounced by the Northern press to be the most splendid and forcible political utterance sin?e tne days of Clay, Webster and Calhoun. Mr. Groesbeck, it will be remembered, was attorney-general under President Johnson's administration, and one of his counsel at the impeachment trial. After some preliminary observations he came to the consideration of the constitutional amendments, which had been pduuted since the war, and said: The thirteenth amendment, abolishing slayefythroughout the United States, is accepted the South as unanimously as in The doubt and hesitation have fattnaboutthe fourteenth and fifteenth araendmtate becanse of the means used.to procure j||Efadwtib!n and because of the change they. f^Hna tab relations which had always existtf^ptween the Federal Government and the State governments. In the language of our recent State Convention, the means used to procure the adoption of these two amendments were extraordinary, violent and unsatisfactory. There is no thinking, right-minded man who desires that a single other amendment may be made to the constitution as these were made; for it is impossible to preserve its sacredness under such treatment. THW' SUPREME COURT CANNOT SET TIIEM ASIDE. The constitution should never be lightly dealt with, nor should it be altered for mere party advantage, and any amendments proposed should be fairly submitted to a free and untbreatened judgment. Such was the case in reference to all amendments previously madfc; such is not the case in reference to those two. But I do not care to dwell upon the history of the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments; for I see nothing in their history tlUtt will destroy their validity. You cannotMnvalidate legislation by showing it is tainted with fraud. It may be admitted that an act of Congress was passed by undue means; that coercion, bribery and all kinds of corruption were applied to effect its passage; andgmt the court cannot set it aside. The only question is, were they in fact passed ? If they were, all courts must recognize them. Could I go into our Supreme Court and impair the validity of an act of Congress by shoWiag that enough Congressmen to change the result had been coerced to vote for it, or bribed to vote for it? Clearly I could not; nor could I successfully attack a constitutional amendment on these grounds. The Supreme Court has no supervision over the action of Congress in passing a statute, or over the action of State Legislatures or State Conventions in adopting a constitutional amendment. We may not look to the Supreme Court to declare these amendments unconstitutional; it I ^ TIT i I as no junsaicuou over mem. >ve may uui look to the States to annul them by a further amendment; it requires three-fourths of them to concur in such a movement; that number will not concur in such a movement. And we ma^jiot look" to the people to combine to ov?wow them inyome other w^iy; the peopfeVfte" already Accepted them. - The de3trujrajUi of slavery is acknowledged and approved by all, and our colored population has voted in every State of the Union, at our local and general elections, again and ag&in> and-without challenge or molestation. These amendments will stand. Suffrage, once granted, cannot be recalled ; suffrage that has been practiced will not be surrendered. THE. CONSTITUTION STILL EXCELLENT. These are the changes made in our Federal constitution during the last ten years. That same constitution which our fathers had, and to which the Democracy has been so faithful through all our history, is our constitution to3ay. These amendments have been added to it, and that is all. The constitution remains still an excellent constitution, and the State remains with ample sovereignty to do its propBr work. rHESTATES AND THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. Now, as heretofore, our Union is a limited government, with only such powers as are delegated to it; now, as heretofore, all powers not delegated to it are reserved to the States or the people; now, as heretofore, and under the con^itution as it is, the States hold ample sovereignty for the management of all their home interests. This doctrine cannot be abandoned. Alas for us if the State as our fathers made it shall ever disappear from our 3ystem of government. The peril so recently encountered enables us to realize what a calamity it would have been if the war had destroyed onr Union. Not less disastrous would be the calamity if the States, as such, should be destroyed or changed into something else and less. THE STATES MUST BE CHERISHBD. Let us ever cherish the State. It is our home government, at our very door. It educaied us all in our childhood, and has watched over us during all our lives. It guards us by day and by night?our lives, our liberties, our reputations, our persons and our property. It is our exclusive handiwork, and we make its laws and execute them. We are the best judges of what concerns ourselves, and through it we manage all that concerns ourselves. It trains us to activity, teaches us self-reliance, makes us vigilant, and developes us into sturdy, bold and independent citizens. We strengj^n under these constant and daily ok more and more to appreciative privileges of freemen and the blessings of self-government. Take home sovereignty out of the State, and its vitality is gone. Centralize this sovereignty at Washington, and we are transferred to a distant, outside authority. No longer governing ourselves, we must be governed. Dependent upon Washington, we soon lose our self-dependence, and, relieved of responsibility, ve-sink into indolence and indifference. The earnest, manly citizen who once participated in public affairs, and found his chief interest in them, degenerates into a mere subject, whose whole duty is to obey law, and whose only desire is to be amused in his idleness. This is logic; this is history. I must believe, and I shall hope to the last, that the people of the United States will never consent to the destruction of the State as " ' i . .? ? i .11 i our latners maae it, or inai it Bnan De weakened or reduced to a mere dependency or satrapy of the General Government. After some examination of the proper method of enforcing the amendments, Mr. Groesbeck declared that as the fourteenth and fifteenth araeodraents have passed into the constitution, the contest upon them is over, and the enemy has moved from that field to more advanced positions. Our work is to fight him just where we now find him?centralizing all power in the Federal Government. THE EVIL GROWING. The Supreme Court's purity should be irreproachable, and its independence sacred. In the performance of its legitimate duties it annoyed theRidical party, and did not do their bidding, and they threatened it. For its decision in another case, it is charged and believed by many, they changed it and tampered with it. The government, as organized by the constitution, does not suit this party. It is too limited, and abounds too much in checks and hindrances. They want something lar ger and stronger. A few years ago we did not see so much of our Federal Government asjwe do now. It was at Washington attending to our general concerns. Now it is in everything, and encroaching and strengthening in all directions. Then it supported itself by imposts alone, collected at ports of entry; now it taxes everywhere, ana its officers swarm upon us, ringing our door-bells oftener than our own officers. Then our finances were chiefly managed among the States; now we have about seventeen hundred national banks, say five for every Congressman. They are a most dangerous political influence, located in all our Congressional districts. Our own banks have disappeared. Its judges are multiplying; its courts are increasing, and their' jurisdiction enlarging. Education is especially a home concern, and with great care and expense we have provided for it. Every State has already its own system. These State systems of education do their work well, and we are very proud of them. A distinguished Republican, high in office, is reported to have said that the Federal Government must see to th_e education of its children. This we kftow<VWe: have already a Federal bureau of education.; but where it is to end we do not know. THE PRESIDENT ENDOWED WITH .UJMSrvilO POWER. The speaker next reviewed the bayonet election law, the Ku-Klux act, and continued : Where the military and naval power, in the judgment of the President, is able to defy the State, or the State connives at its purpose, the President may suspend the writ of habeas corpus in that locality. The case here provided for is not a judicial proceeding; it is war. It is not the marshal and his posse making an arrest under a warrant. There is no process in it, and no court. It is the commander-inchief at the head of his army entering the State, not to make an arrest, but to cut down and slay. I repeat it. It is war. The State government is pushed aside; the courts are shut; they are not wanted. Never before to-day could the Federal Government march its armies into a State on account of any disturbance confined within that State, unless invited to do so. Now it may do so on its own motion. As Senator Thurraan well says, the whole matter is left to the judgment of a single man. He is both judge and executioner. Behold a despot. Where is the State? Under his heel. Where is that great writ upon which we all depend for our personal liberty ? In his hand. How came it there? The people never put it there. How carefully they have tried to guard it. "It never shall be suspended unless, when in case of rebellion or invasion, the public safety may require itand even then it is trusted not to the one-man power, but to Congress, one of whose duties it is to watch this one-man power. But we are told the President will not abuse this extraordinary power. Who knows that? Again they tell us we can trust him. A free people trusts nobody with such powers. How violent and dangerous and unuecessa ry is this legislation ? The war is over, but the spirit is still upon us. The sword is everywhere?in front of us, to the right of us, to the left of us, on all sides and in all measures. It is fast becoming the daily remedy for private wrongs. The old-fashioned ways of keeping the peace with civil officers chosen by ourselves from among our neighbors, are dying out, and the practices of despotism are taking their place% ^ v DEBT CURRENCY. Mr. Groesbeck concluded as follows: "We had a large debt, and we must honor it. Repudiation would disgrace the government. Taxation should "be imposed for revenue, yet we had a tariff in many cases framed to defeat this purpose, and we knowingly throw away revenue to enrich a few at the expense of the many. In respect to the currency he would adhere to the historical doctrine of the Democratic party. Greenback and the true dollar were almost abreast; let us hope, for abundant reasons, that the former may be able to maintain its position, while the public lauds should be held for the common and j equal good of the people." BOTS AS FARMERS. There are so many bright spots in the life of a farm boy, that I sometimes think I should like to live the life over again; I should almost be willing to be a girl if it were not for the chores. There is a great comfort to a boy in the amount of work he can get rid of doing. It is sometimes astonishing how slow he can get on an errand, he who leads the school in a race. The world is new and interesting to him, and there is so much to take his attention off when he is sent to do anything. Perhaps he couldn't explain, himself, why, when he is sent to the neighbor's after yeast, he stops to stone th8 frogs; he is not exactly cruel, but he wants to see if he can hit 'em. No other living thing can go so slow as a boy sent on an errand. His legs seem to be dead, unless he happens to espy a woodchuck in an adjoining lot, when he gives chase to it like a deer; and it is a curious fact about boys, that two will be a great deal slower in doing anything than one, and the more you have to help on a piece of work, the less is accomplished. Boys have a power in helping each other to do nothing; and they are so innocent about it and unconscious. "1 went as quick as ever I could," says one boy, when his father asks him why he didn't stay all night, when he has been absent three hours on a ten minute errand. The sarcasm has no effect upon the boy. Going after the cows was a serious thing in my day. I had to climb up a hill which was covered with wild strawberries in the season. Could any boys pass by those berries ? And then, in the fragrant hill pasture, there were beds of winter green with red berries, tufts of columbine, roots of sasafras to be dug, and dozen of things good to eat or* to smell, which I could not resist. It sometimes even lay in my way to climb a tree for a crow's nest, or to swing in the top, or to see if I could see the steeple of the village church. It became very important sometimes for me to see the steeple; and in the midst of my investigations, the tin horn would blow a great blast from the farm house, which would send a cold chill down my back in the hottest day. I knew what it meant. It had a frightfully impatient quaver in it, not at all like the sweet note that called us to dinner from the hay field. Why on earth doesn't that boy come home? It is almost dark, and the cows ain't milked yet" And that was the time the cows had to start into a brisk pace and make up for lost time. I wonder if any boy ever drove the cows home late, who did not say that the cows were at the further end of the pasture, and that Old Brindle was hidden in the woods, and he couldn't find her for ever so long! The brinrllp now is thp hnv's snanecnat manv a time. " j "?r"o * No other boy knows how to appreciate a holiday as the farm-boy does ; and his best ones are of a peculiar kind. Going fishing is, of course, one sort. The excitement of rigging up the tackle, digging the bait, and the anticipation of great luck, these are pure pleasures, enjoyed because they are rare. Boys who can go a fishing any time, care but little for it. Tramping all day through brush and brier, fighting flies and mosquitoes, and branches that tangle the line, and snags that break the hook, and returning home late and hungry, with wet feet and a string of speckled trout on a willow twig, and have the crowd out at the kitchen door to look at 'em and say, "Pretty well done for you, bub, did you catch that big one yourself?" This is also pure happiness, the like of which the boy will nev ? er have again; not if be becomes a selectman and deacon, and to "keep store." But the holidays I recall with delight were the two days in spring and fall, when we went to the distant pasture land, in a neighboring town, may be to drive thither the young cattle and colts, and to bring them back again. ; It was a wild and rocky upland where our i great pasture was, many miles from home, the j road to it running by a brawling river, and j up a dashing brook-side, among great hills. What a day 8 adventure it was 1 It was like a journey to Europe. The night before I could scarcely sleep for thinking of it; and there was no trouble about getting me up at sunrise that morning. The breakfast was eaten, the luncheon was packed in a large basket. I wish the journey would never end; but at last, near noon, we reached the pasture and turned in the herd; and, after making the tour of the lots to make sure there are no breaks in the fences, we take our luncheon from the wagon and eat it under the trees by the spring. This is the supreme moment or the day. This isThe way to life ; this is like the Swiss Family Robinson and all the rest of my delighted acquaintance in romance. Baked beans, rye and Indian bread, (moist, remember,) doughnuts and cheese, pie and roastbeef. What richness 1 You may live to dine at Delmonico'g, or at Phillippe's in the me Montorguell in Paris, where tne good old Thackeray used to eat as good a dinner as anybody; but you will get there neither doughnuts, nor pie, nor root beer, nor anything as good as that luncheon at noon in the old pasture, high among the Massachusetts hills! Nor will you ever, if you live to be the oldest boy in the world, have any holiday equal to the one I have described. But I have always regretted that I did not take a fish-line, just to "throw in" the brook we passed. I know there were trout there.?C. D. Warner, in Work and Play. ? THE AIR-LINE RAIL ROAD. A correspondent of the Atlanta Constitution, from Greenville, in this State, writes as follows in relation to the Air-Line Railroad: This road will be about 245 miles long when completed. From Charlotte to Spartanburg, a distance of seventy miles, there are about two thousand hands working; the grading is nearly done; track-laying has begun at the Charlotte end; the bridges are in rapid process of construction, and the contractors think that by the first of February they can have this section ready for the cars to run over. Between Spartanburg and Greenville, a distance of thirty miles, there are over eight hundred hands grading. The track-laying will begin on this section in a short while from Spartanburg this way, in order to facilitate the work. The contractors think that this section will also be ready for the trains by February. The first of May at the farthest will probably see the daily trains running from Charlotte to this point. From Greenville to Atlanta the road will be about 145 miles long. Of this distance the cars are running from Atlanta to Gainesville, 53 miles. Almost 25 miles are graded this side of Gainesville and nearly ready for the iron. About eight hundred hands are working on this part of the road. We thus have about 67 miles from there to this point to be completed entire. The choice ot routes will soon be made and the work put under contract,and* if nothing untoward happens the entire road will be in use twelve months from this time. The money is on hand to build the road, and the purpose is to push it through without delay. You have seen that the Anderson routehas been ignored, and it has been determined to run the road by a more direct line, probably striking near Tugaloo. The Anderson route was found to be seventeen miles longer and a million dollars more costly, on account of the rivers to be crossed. The Anderson people threaten an injunction, claiming that the charter gives them a vested right to the location of the road through their section. It is believed, however, that a few Anderson individuals are making a private speculation of this sort of agitation, and have agreed and offered to take a bond and drop the matter. Should they, however, persist, and succeed in getting an injunction, it will occasion delay in the construction on this part of the route. The statement that the Pennsylvania Central Railroad, as a corporation, has bought out the road, is incorrect Men interested in the management of that concern have the entire contract to build the taken road, for which they get in pay the road stock, except 14 per cent, in money. Tom Scott, Simon Cameron, two Baltimore and New York capitalists, form the company of contractors. A Mr. Dickinson, of New York, was the original contracfnv T am of a anm air milliAna Pnr wij x uui luivi ob a ouui wi oia uiiiuvuo ivi the whole road. Scott & Co. paid him a bonus of $300,000, and took his contract. About $1,400,000 of stock has been taken by the cities, counties, towns, and citizens on the line. Charlotte takes $250,000; Atlanta $300,000; Spartanburg and county $250,000; Greenville and county $300,000; Oconee and Pickens counties $200,000; Hall county, Ga., $50,000, and its citizens $30,000. Atlanta citizens have taken $84,000, and I am sorry to learn that some wealthy ones, deeply interested in the road, have not paid their subscriptions promptly. This is not in accord with the public spirit and promptness for which Atlanta men are noted. -#-4 THE MISERABLE END. The following is the graphic conclusion of Mrs. Stowe's "Pour Scenes in the Life a Country Boy," who went to the city, passed through the dinoront grades and crime, until lie becomes a teller in a bank, and a gambler. He loses largely in play, and to retrieve himself abstracts money from the bank. The result is as follows: "But the time of settlement of bank accounts is coming, and still his luck does not turn. Pray to God! he dares not, and the devil only laughs at his cries. He thinks of the agony of detection, of the shame and disgrace impending. What shall he do? The whisper comes: "Fvrge a check" Why not ? He can imitate writing cleverly, was always a skilful penman. He will do it; he does it; and here to-day he stands pale, agonized, detected, before the board who have met to examine the accounts of the bank. There stands the same boy that left his country home, so well meaning, so beloved and so happy. Behind him stands the detective and the handcuffs, and at the door the prison van, while the president of the board holds the forged check. IVIiura ora tlia rcon/utfoMa finondo rolin IT AJViW MAW VUW iilVMiUO !IUW helped him to wear off his country greenness at select suppers ? They are perfectly shocked at such revelations of depravity. Who would have thought of his turning out such a scamp ? "What a mess he has made of it? The fellow was a fool?a weak-headed fool 1" Yes, he was weak-headed and weak-hearted, and he tried to walk where the strongest heads ollen turn; and you beguiled him to walk there. You laughed before him at the idea of total abstinence. You boasted before him of your manly powers of touching and tasting every thing, and never getting upset. You untied his boat, and helped him to paddle into the rapids, and then stood safe on the shore to see him go down. You never did anything to hurt yourself! No, and you never will. But how many will be lost by being beguiled to do what you can do safely, and they cannot do at all ? Come, now, boyB, let us settle on one or two things as absolute certainties when you start in llie. xie WOO never ununa ncva mix UU drunk. That's so, isn't it ? He who som* times drinks, may be. He who never goes into gambling saloons never will gamble, and he will never lose; but he who goes to observe, may gamble, and he who gambles will surely lose. In all these things is it not best not to begin, and would not our country boy have done better to have started with a firm, positive No! instead of his treacherous "We'll see?" He has seen, and a great deal too much ; and, in nine cases out of ten, that sort of seeing ends this way. Beware of innocent beginnings in wrong ways and remember the old text we started: "There is a way that seemeth right unto man, but the end thereof is death." INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE. In no line has more devilish ingenuity been manifested than in constructing instruments of torture. The rack, wheel, boot and screw of the medieval ages, far from having exhausted the resources of invention, have been sopplanted in our day by the crucifix and shower oaths used for the punishment of criminals in various penitentiaries.. . About a year ago the horrible inhumanity of .^ft^rethcxl of. punishment was exposed, and in a fit of righteous indignation the Legislature of New York abolished them from h^ State penal institutions. It was thought at the time that tlys prompt action would ameliorate the condition Viw a mAffl li nm a no aua. UI pIIQUliClO Ujr cliluiviug u iuviv uuuimuv tem of treatment, but it would seem the hope was destined to disappointment Cruelty is never at a loss for weapons, and so when the "shower bath" and "crucifix" were trundled out of Sing Sing, the "trapeze" and the "bed of roses" were brought in. The first is described as "A harmless looking contrivance. It consists of two thin tarred ropes run over a pulley. The ends of these ropes are fastened to the thumbs of the convict who is to be punished. Then one pull and the victim is lifted off his feet. As tne man dangles in mid-air, his, entire weight depending on his thumbs, his sufferings are really horrible. The most excruciating pains are felt in every part of his body, and every fibre auivers with keenest agony. The tendons of the arms are stretched to their fullest length, and seem like red hot wires in the man's flesh. Elbow-joints and shoulder-blades snap as if ready to separate, and the thumbs, swollen and black, with compressed blood, often actually slit open. At this point the miserable wretch, filled with terror, happily sinks into insensibility. When released he is generally unable to walk, by reason of temporary paralysis." The "bed of roses" is still worse, inasmuch as its effects are often lasting, and leave the victim to drag out a miserable existence after being subjected to its horrors. Think of a dark, unventilated stone dungeon seven feet long, three feet wide, and six feet high, in which is kept the "bed of roses!" This luxurious couch is a stout wooden flooring, which covers the cell bottom. Upon this frame is fastened half spheres of hard wood, about the size of billiard balls cut in halves. These are secured tightly, with the rounded surface turned upward. The prisoner to be ntmiali/wl io fnwo/) in nrinn fVin "hed." iiftflr hfi uuuioubu igivivw* ** m|/vm *uv -#??7 ? ? ? nas been deprived of his coat, shoes and stockings. A few days in a cell containing this worse than stony bed, and a reeking, poisonous atmosphere, reduces the victim to a state of utter physical and mental weakness. In vain he seeks for rest in sleep, or for a position of ease. The hard knobs press into hie flesh, and fill his body with a thousand pangs ; every motion increases his tortures, but his cries for mercy meet with no response. When he leaves the dungeon it is with blinded vision and unsteady gait, with limbs bruised, and body lame and sore throughout. Yet, while this iniquitous semi-tragedy is euacted under cover and authority of the law, Mr. Bergh and his friends are being daily lauded by the New York pulpit and press for their services in ameliorating the condition of dumb animals, and volumes of pious indignation are daily poured outfrom thesame sources I upon the devoted heads of Southerners for KuKlux cruelties, which exist only in iramngination. Humanity, like other shining virtues, should commence at home. THE FATE OF A COBN-STEALEB. A few days ago, a trial took place in this county in a manner not strictly in accordance with the new code. It appears that a gentleman of color, name unknown, while passing by the plantation of one our citizens, concluded to assist him in gathering his corn crop. No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he proceeded to act upon it. Entering the field, he gathered a quantity of corn, and taking it outside of the field, commenced to shell it, in order to get it into a better shape for transportation. While thus enaged, some of the colored hands employed on the plantation came upon him, captured him, and took him before the proprietor, who directed them to take him to jail. He begged earnestly that he might not be carried to jail; and in order to avoid that fate, professed himself ready to undergo any punishment they might see proper to impose. After a brief consultation among his captors, it was decided to grant his request?punish him themselves and let him go. A court and jury were organized, and some one appointed to defend the prisoner. * A A-J-l 1..A !..i J Alter an impartial trial amore a juuge auu jury of his own color, he was found gnilty of stealing the corn and sentenced to recaigo-&? ty lashes:_H^<iu?<*c,*~dra^^ not trc HnrtdTnflict the punishment, promising to keep still and take it as gracefully as possible. They acceded to his request?laid him gently down upon a cotton-bale, and proceeded to execute the sentence of the court. He bore the first few strokes manfully, but about the sixth one he began to flinch. He*was reminded of his promise to keep quiet, and reiterated his determination to do so and bear it like a man, protesting, however, at the same time, that it was only natural that he should "also feel it as a man." The punishment was continued until an additional half-dozen strokes had been well laid on, when the prisoner sounded a truce, and stated that since the commencement of the execution of his sentence his feelings had undergone a change? that the jail had lost half its horrors, and that he now had conscientious scruples upon the subject of corporeal punishment He was gravely informed that it was too late for a plea to the jurisdiction of the court?that all irregularities in the proceedings had been waived by him, and that the decisions of that court were as unchangeable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. The punishment went on until the full sentence of the court was inflicted. When it was executed the prisoner was reIoqmv? TTo immftdiatfllv set out hv the shor test route, for the Old jforth State, the place of his nativity, remarking as he started that if he knew himself, and he thought he did, the place where he had just played such a conspicuous part would know him no more forever.?Marlboro Times. Two Ways of Expression.?A young lady with a very pretty foot, but rather large ankle, went into a shoe store to be measured. The admiring clerk, who is of Gallic extraction, complimented her in the following queer way: "Madame, you have one bootiful foot, but ze leg commence too immediately." An Irishman standing near was struck in the same way as Monsieur Crapeau, but expressed himself pointedly, if not elegantly, in these words: "Faith, she has beef to the heels like a Mullingar heifer." A Hoosier present coincided "With: "Yes, by thunder; she's got a foot like a grown person." ' ;/