University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. grist, Proprietor. | |m |ttkjjeniient Jamilg ffetosjaper: Jfor tjrc |jromoticin of t(|e political, Social, Agricultural anir Commercial Interests of % Sontji. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 18. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MABCH 14, 1879. 3STO. 11. Jn ?tigroid frisc Jdm|. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE FATE OF MILDRED WEIR. 9 0 BY MRS. CLARA DARGAN McLEAN. CHAPTER I. "A violet by a inossv stone, Half-hidden from the eve." WORDSWORTH. "No doubt it is better." "Then she will go?you will send her?" "Yes." The monosyllable fell with a clear, liquid distinctness; but there was an indescribable pathos in the silence which followed. The two ladies sat working side by side. The elder, of great dignity and majestic proportions, was putting together the hexagons - -;,1~ 3 --~1 ?A/vwAwlaf fltA vAnnrrftr OI il SI1K UI1U VCIVCl WYCiitv, mv j w...bv. scarcely so bv a decade of years, yet so worn as to appear the senior?held in her hands a mesh of snowy wool, which was slowly fashioning itself into a fleecy scarf. Totally unlike in form or feature, there was, nevertheless, that shadowy, intangible resemblance which is known by the general term 'family likeness.' Some tones in the rich, full voice of the elder?some echo in the cadence?some fleeting expression of the broad brow, or mobile lips?these impressed even strangers with the sisterhood of the two women, to whom that bond was only a faint type of their pure and unalienable friendship. As they sat thus, the evening sunshiue falling in level lines across the apartment, one might have watched the serene and lovely faces, and wondered whatcloud could ever overshadow them. But God alone knew! The silence was broken by a wild young voice pealing up to the sky like the note of a silver bugle. It rang upon the evening air across the bayou till a hundred echoes seemed to repeat the words: "The lady of my love I may not name, I dare not hope my love will be requited ; But I will fight for liberty and fame, Beneath the banner where my love was plighted." As it came nearer, the mother dropped her work aDd leaned back in her chair. That wonderful voice! Was it for good or for evil? That acutely nervous organization which it betrayed?was it a heritage of grief or glory? Living a life of strict seclusion, these three louely women?the mother, the maiden sister, and the only child?there had been developed a vein of romance, cultivated and encouraged by solitude, which, mingled with the heroic character of her idolized child, the mother felt was pregnant with sorrow. Before the house, the black bayou united with the blue waters of the Gulf, and it was from this direction that the ringing voice now sounded. Mrs. Weir arose and stepped through the French window upon the terrace in front. Though late in the season, this was nartiallv filled bv loner rows of orange trees r j ww ? in wheeled tubs, while japonicas and geraniums grew in luxuriance on each side. Near the window was an immense rhododendron, and the soft autumn wind was now rustling its shining leaves, and tossing the long sprays to and fro. A light, willowy figure was bounding up the path which bordered the grounds, and approached with a swift airy grace like a swan floating upon the waters. The blue folds of her dress fluttered in the breeze, and her loosened hair fell in heavy ringlets upon her neck. A pair of dark hazel eyes, full of enthusiastic, almost passionate light; clear-cut, fyrirituelle features, and a mouth capable of expressing the most intense emotion?these constituted, in detail, the outward charms of Mildred Weir. But no words can give a definite idea of her personal magnetism?that atmosphere of fascination which seems to surround some physiques as a cloud of radiance. Is it the result of a peculiar physical organization, or rather the subtle influence of great mental power? As she caught sight of her mother, Mildred ceased singing. "Is it not a gloriouseveuing ?" she exclaimed. "I've been down upon the beach, and the winds and waves called to me like a battlecry of victory." Coming nearer she threw her arms around her mother's neck, as they both sat down upon the steps of the terrace. " 1 1 --11 "Ana you answerea me cuu its u amudard-watch," the mother said fondly, returning the caress. "Yes; Lindpaiuter's song always recurs to me wheu I hear a storm coming. Do you see that cloud there? The wind is from the south-west, and we shall have a gale though now it looks so clear. Ah ! me, such a lovely day to end in gloom. But, mamma,"' turning quickly, "one must not murmur when clouds come, after the live-long day has been bright. I never intend to grieve over lost sunshine, and I know storms must come to me some day, for God has given me along, bright life." "Yes, you have had a happy life thus far, mv Mildred, but a change may come even to you. Yet you have this charm against every evil?your mother's love." She clasped the slender fingers in her own and smoothed back the dishevelled hair from her daughter's brow. Mildred's sensitive lip trembled. Every breath of feeling betrayed itself in her face, as the faintest ripple of air awakes the slumbering chords of an Eolian harp. Her mother continued: "I've been speaking with your aunt on the . subject of your going to the city for the winter, and we both conclude it is best that you should do so." An eager light flushed over her face, and Mildred cried rapturously? "Will you, indeed, consent? Oh! mamma, it is more than I hoped. To hear music? .? . . , m tnai is 100 mucn j She turned her dilating eyes toward the west where the sun was just sinking behind "a looming bastion fringed with fire," and the joy of her heart was unmistakable. "Do not expect that even the happiness of music will be unalloyed, my child," her mother said sadly. "Nothing on this earth can give perfect satisfaction but the consciousness of having done our duty toward God and our fellow-creatures." Then, as if fearing she would depress Mildred's bright nature, she added, "But it will indeed be a great pleasure for you. I shall write to your uncle at once and request him to engage for you the best masters. Besides these, you will have the advantages of the opera, and that of meeting musical people and associating with them." Thus they sat conversing till the rising wind and thickening clouds warned them of the approaching storm. As they rose to go in 1 doors, Mildred kissed her mother with great ardor; then running down the terrace, she lifted in her arms a pot containing a delicate 1 orchis, and carried it into the sitting-room. Not waiting to putit down, she went straight to ' the sofa where her aunt was lying, and kneelj ing on the cushion beside her, began to dis, claim rapidly upon the approaching pleasj ure?"going to the city." , "And, aunty, think how I will practise, and how I will study! And then the opera, and the?the?. Oh! aunty, aboye all?the 1 | cathedral!" j | She put down her precious burden and went i to the piano. With the rising gale which ! blew the curtains to and fro, her voice arose; i > ~ 1nn(?ni4 fl<o mnvMol niOOCIlrO nf thp "Stan- I ; 1IU I HIV/ iUUt VIU? V. ...v | dard Watch," but a grand, solemn Jubilate. ! The superb tivxbre of her voice?like the up- i ! per notes of a violincello?so full and rich . j that one could scarce credit they came from ' so slight a frame, and so well suited to the theme < j she iiad chosen. Her fond listeners sat in sij leuce; they had never heard "the child" sing i I so before. ' When she had ceased and taken her ac- 1 cfustomed place between them, her aunt drew the curled head nearer, and looked long into < the star-like hazel eyes. J "Will our Mildred ever care for other lis- ' teners as she does for these at home?" I "Ah ! no, dearest aunty. You and mamma love my music as no others ever will; and ' when I return, there will be so many beauti- 1 ful new songs I shall have learned to sing 1 you. No, indeed," she repeated, shaking her 1 head with a decided, earnest air, "I shall nev- * er sing for any one as I do for you and mam- 1 f> ma. A glance passed involuntarily between the 1 two sisters. There was a brightness, a satis- 1 faction in that single look which expressed 1 more truly what "the child" was to these 1 lonely women than any words, however eloquent, could have conveyed?the very "apple J | of the eye"?the light of life, the hope and 1 i pride and blessing. Alas 1 how often are ! these idols made the instruments of our tori ture and our death! When the morning sunlight smiled upon the destruction of the storm which had swept over Bayou La Fourche the night previous, it greeted Mildred already busy with her flow- < ers upon the terrace. It was there her aunt found her before breakfast. J "Why, my pet, you are out early this morning. Did the thought of your journey keep you awake ?" Mildred laughed and declared she had scarcely slept at all; first on account of the storm, and then trying to imagine how she should like her cousins. "Tell me just how we are related, aunt . Agatha; I never exactly understood it" , "There is nothing very complicated in .the . I connection," Miss Lyle said, smiling at her , earnest air. "Your uncle Louis is our step- j brother?his mother and our father having ( been wedded when we were all children. As } there were never any others, we three grew up as fondly attached as if we had been really ( brother and sisters. When Louis married our ( dearest friend, Marian Martigny, we were sep- ^ aarated for the first time in our lives. Then x came your mother's marriage, and from that time we have met but seldom, though we are by f | no means less sincerely devoted. I know there j j will be no difference between their affection j i for you and that of an own niece, and your } ' cousins are lovely and cultivated girls." ^ "There are only two, I believe." ^ j "Only two daughters and a son, the latter ( j of whom has been in Europe for several ? j years." They were walking slowly up and down j j the terrace, Miss Lyle leaning upon the arm t : of her niece. The maiden aunt was one of i those lovely characters, in which gentleness j aud strength seem so combined as to attract the affectionate confidence of all with whom ( | they are associated. To Mildred she was ( j scarcely less dear than her own mother, and i their intercourse was as unrestrained as that : of two sisters. She watched the thoughtful face of her | niece for a few moments, and seemed prepared i for the question, when Mildred raised her eyes and asked, anxiously: "Do you think mamma really prefers to have me go ? Does she not rather consent ; because she knows it would please me?" "Indeed, my dear," Miss ?Lyle responded i quickly, "you do your mamma injustice. She ! has long wished to give you these advantages, | but it bas never been so convenient as now. j Then, too, you have reached an age when you j can appreciate refined and cultivated society; j and it is this, as well as your musical tastes, | which she now gladly gives you the opportu| nity to enjoy. Do not worry yourself, my j child, but keep a cheerful face, and it will relieve your mother's heart of many anxieties. She was feariug you would dread the change, leaving this quiet home, where you have scarcely, in all your life, seen a strange face, to mingle in the great busy world. But we know now that you have courage and strength for both." , Mildred made no reply. An upward glance { of her eyes seemed a silent appeal for that \ which she now seemed to require for the first ] time. Shielded from every care by the ten- ] derest affection, it was hard to realize that a period was approaching when she should stand ( alone. Yet not alone; for that right arm on } which every weary soul can trustingly lean, , was the arm of her Father and her God. j j The next few days passed quickly, and on ] j the fourth Mr. Moreton arrived. I "The same slight creature," he said musing- < | ly, as Mildred left the room on some domes- 1 tic errand that evening, and he remained 1 alone with his sister. "Like a wreath of sea I i foam." ; "And as invigorating as a 6ea-breeze," aunt < j Agatha added, with a smile. "You must not 1 persuade Mildred that she is a frail, useless i ! ornament, dear brother. Her frame, though 1 ' slight, is as buoyant and as strong as oue of i our skiffs, and her health perfect." i Mrs. AVeir, entering the room at that mo- j meirt, caught the last remark. I < "What is it you are saying?" she asked al- ! most anxiously. "Of whose health were you speaking?" "Only of Mildred?that she was quite strong, although she appears so fragile." j | "Oh! yes?quite strong, I do assure you," ; i < iL? ?./s'wnMnrtci IP nnrlooxTArmrr in I lit; ujumer icneitiicu, tu ?i quuvutuhu^ iv allay a fear in hfer own heart. "But if you ever find that she seems ill in the least, you will let us know. She is always pale?you cannot judge by her color?but her spirits are an unfailing criterion. I must confess to you, ? my dear brother, thpt my chief anxiety for ! Mildred lies in the fact of her extremely ner-j vous temperament. She is so sensitive to surrounding circumstances that I dread to see i her subjected to any exciting influence." "Believe me, I will guard her as far as lies J in my power. Butdo uotbefearful. Mildred j will be to us as our own child, and the same j care taken of her. It is of course impossible ' for me to see much of my family, as I am con- j fined to my office during the entire day and . often till late at night; but Marian and the ; girls will devote themselves to her I know." | "I Lave no doubt of it," Mrs. Weir returned j warmly; and Mildred entering at that moment, the conversation dropped. Early next morning, the carriage, which was to convey them to the nearest railroad station, stood at the door. This was no small journey, as Bayou La Fourche lay remote from the great routes of travel. The luggage securely fastened, the coachman on the box, Mildred's maid, who was to accompany her, seated beside him in evident satisfaction?the announcement was made that all was ready, and the ladies came out together upon the wide colonnade. Mildred's arms were locked closely around her mother, and the tears were feathering in her eyes ; but she repressed them with great effort, and said in a tone of forced gaietiy : "Now, dear mamma, I shall write you at jnce and tell you of our safe -arrival?of Sigaor Barilli's waxed mustaschios, and the other *rand sights of the city. Pray, aunty, do cot let mamma imagine all sorts of misfortunes. I am quite sure"?and she utterly failed. As the carriage drove down the long avecue?whose white line was visible for miles, winding away between level fields of cotton Hid sugar cane?the two sisters stood for some noraents watching it in silence. "Gone from us at last!" the mother murnured as if thinking aloud; "and God alone inows how and when she may return." CHAPTER II. My soul was an enchanted boat Wnich like a sleeping swan did float Upon the silver waves of her sweet singing." Shelley. In a fashionable quarter of a well-known southern city stood Mr. Moreton's home. fV.nd a home it was in every sense of that exaressive word. Wealth, refinement, affection, jongeniality?all combined to render it a most attractive spot to any who were admitted withn its charmed circle. Of unusual culture and most winning ex:erior, Mr. Moreton was a lawyer of high refute, and a man of distinguished position in ais native State. His wife, though devoted x> her domestic affairs, was considered as a eader in the brilliant society of M. She was i very handsome woman, and as Mildred had aever seen her, she could scarcely believe that ;his youthful-looking person was the mother >f two tall stately daughters, who eagerly advanced with her to welcome the new-comer. In the late October afternoon the bright jomfortable drawing-room was inexpressibly sheering to Mildred, who had been traveling ;he whole day, and was much fatigued by the inusual excitement. "You must come to your room at once," sxclaimed the elder cousin, Kate, a darklaired girl, strikingly like her mother. "I snow all about that tiresome Gulf-road, and vhat tortures one suffers on the stuffed seats. Dome this way, Mildred. Mamma?papa? ilease send Fulton up with the trunks. You san bring that shawl, Etta; I will take the latchel and basket." Full of spirit and energy, she stepped lighty on with both hands full* her dark eyes iparkling with affectionate gladness, while Mildred and the quieter Henriette followed ler. "A lovely young creature," Mrs. Moreton )bserved, as she watched the three figures ascend the wide stair-case; "but I fear she is rery delicate. Her complexion is so marveljusly transparent?don't you think ?" "Yes; but that is scarcely an evidence of 11-health," responded her husband, as he passed his arm around the plump figure and seated her on the sofa beside him. "The j -B.ifU in Mopion T /1a nnt fliinlr T linrp pvpr I jL Ubll JO| iUMt 1(4U| A v*u ?i vv viouu * ?** w v vseen a more perfect specimen of feminine delcacy united to a depth of mind and strength )f feeling unusual in so young a girl. Such a nusical genius, too; it is a sad lot for a wonan." "What! Do you say so ? Surely, a wonan can meet the responsibility of such a jift without shrinking if she have what you dlow Mildred?strength of mind and energy )f purpose." "But not strength of body. There lies the langer ; the sword may wear out the sheath. We must guard her carefully, Marian. Her nother makes great sacrifices in giving her ip for this winter." "We must do our best. I will take the ;arae care of her that I bestow upon Kate and Henriette." Mildred was not loath to be persuaded to retire early that night; and it was not until the next day, when fully recovered from her 'atigue, that she began to look about her new lome and to realize the bright prospects she aad formed. Her cousins were truly amiable girls, but listinctly diverse in character. There was ilso a brother who had been abroad for several pears ; and though frequently stirring up the household by threats of an immediate return, tie had thus far persevered in disappointing Kom frnm fime tn time, till at leupth 'Jack's coming home' had become a proverb among lis friends. Mildred had not been long with tier cousins before she found that this absentee was the idol of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Moreton as well as the more demonstrative sisters, and even the family servants, contrived to bring in the beloved name under all circumstances. At breakfast, if there happened to be unusually fine oysters? is was the case the morning after Mildred's arrival?some one was sure to say: "Now if Jack were only here, how he would enjoy these ! He never gets any half so large at those abominable continental hotels." So papa had declared, and two eager young voices echoed? "Oh I yes, I am sure he longs for home and its comforts. When do you think he will come, papa?" "That is as hard to answer as the riddle of the Sphynx, Pussy. I should think we may begin to look for him when we hear him thundering at the front door some of these dark nights. You ought to see this famous boy, my dear," he added, turning to Mildred. "He has no doubt become a regular Magyar, having been down among the good people of Prague for the last six months, pretending to study the language; but I secretly surmise he is more interested in the Hungarian costume, and the flavor of their national beer." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he glanced at the quiet face behind the urn. "Papa wants to teaze you, mamma," Kate cried, with a laugh at his signal failure; "but matnma has no fear of Jack's weakness, either for Hungarian beer or pretty costumes. She knows too well that he will tire of both and i a? i *n._ a. i leave in disgust Deiore long. x>y-uie-uy, Alexis Walderaar said yesterday, he had heard from him. The letter was dated the seventh of last month, and he proposed leaving on the twelfth for Vienna, with a party of English friends." "It is very provoking that he does not come home instead of roaming over Europe with people whom he never saw before," Henriette observed, in an injured tone. "Now that Mildred is here, too, I am sure he would en-[ joy it." "Suppose you write at once and offer it as an inducement," her papa proposed. "Tell him that there will be no end of gaiety this winter, and that Ninon Pignolet is growing prettier than ever." "Indeed, she is!" exclaimed Kate. "I saw her at Madame de Richelieu's soiree, and she was perfectly radiant. I think Fred Falconer is growing aware of her charms." At mention of the latter name, Mildred's quick eye detected a change on the face of her younger cousin, who played with her spoon as if trying to appear unconscious of the remark. It recurred to her again, when about noon, as she was practising in the parlor, awaiting the arrival of her new master, the door-bell rang and a gentleman was admitted into the drawing room. A heavy damask curtain hung between the two apartments, and Mildred was about to retire, when her aunt entered and requested that she should come with her to see Mr. Falconer. He was a tall, fair-haired young man, by no means handsome, but of pleasiug manners and so gentle as to appear almost effemiuate. He entered into animated conversation with Mrs. Moreton, and when the girls came in, Mildred did not fail to perceive the pleasure with which he was greeted. His call was short, and on leaving, he engaged to join them in the evening at a concert given by a celebrated prima-donna. "You will understand, Miss Weir," he added, turning to Mildred with that air of deference which was so peculiarly his own, "that this is merely a prelude to our winter's enjoyments. I have learnt from yonr cousins what a devotee you are to the art divine, and I am happy to assure you that the coming season promises many treats of this kind." His pleasant manner was enhanced by the smile with which his otherwise homely face now beamed, and when he had taken leave Mildred could not help exclaiming? "What a very attractive person." "This is a very fair specimen of our genus homo, and you may judge how pleasant it is to meet a half dozen of them in a social way as we do almost every evening. But Mildred should meet Alexis, should she not, Henriette? He is, without exception, the most irresistible person I ever met. So accomplished ! So fascinating! So divinely handsome!" The demonstrative Kate clasped her hands as if in rapture, and struck an attitude, by no means ungraceful, before a pier-glass."Tres bien, Mademoiselle!" exclaimed a voice at the door. Mildred Weir turned, and met face to face?her fate! "Oh ! is it you?" Kate asked in the most unconcerned voice imaginable. "I thought you were out at the course superintending the training of your favorite Kelpie. To what are we indebted for the?ah?honor ?" She swept a very low, mock courtesy, but there was, a smile of unfeigned pleasure on her face. "To your own irresistible self," he half t v j. murmured, repeating purposely ner woras which he had overheard. "A bos /" she exclaimed impatiently ; "you talk as if I were a mere child. Here?let me present my cousin," turning to Mildred who stood looking with an amused face upon this by-play, "Miss Weir?Mr. Waldemar?and may you two never become enemies, for I foresee a 'predestinate scratched face' to any unfortunate woman who should fall into your hands, Monsieur." "Miss Weir's guardian angel will see to that," responded he in a tone of light raillery, which jarred upon Mildred ; but she forgot it when the next instant he offered his hand with an air of frankness, and said earnestly? "I cannot excuse my own want of courtesy by throwing the blame upon my fair maligner; but I entreat you to believe that I am prepared to be a sincere friend." It was a strange speech. Mildred did not understand the "all-the-world-to-me" manner with which Alexis Waldemar was accustomed to meet each and all of his lady acquaintances. "They like it," he would say to his bantering fellow-men; "it makes them happy, dear creatures, and it costs us nothing." And so it .was his habit to repeat, without a pang of conscience, the very identical love-passages to a dozen different girls in the course of a season. With strange inconsistency, he was encouraged on all sides by those fair, frail victims of his vanity, who wore their chains according to their different temperaments?with half-protesting impatience, or pretty sighing resignation. But Mildred was a new-comer. The conqueror felt instinctively that she was no ordinary woman. Lithe and slight as a young antelope, she stood leaning upon the etagere, perfectly, yet unconsciously graceful?the pure complexion showing to great advantage in the chiar 'oscuro of the room, the clear innocent hazel eyes fixed upon her cousin in laughing admiration. As Alexis Waldemar took in this picture with a quick glance upon eutering the room, he knew from that moment his familiar, lover-like phrases would be of no avail. "Thank you!" Mildred said quietly; but there was a dimple playing about her lips. "I am quite prepared to accept your friendship, for I have just been hearing of your perfections from my cousin." "Et tu, Brute I" Kate threw herself upon a divan as if overcome by emotion, and fanned herself with her handkerchief. Waldemar laughed outright. "Come now, Mies Kate, confess* I caught you fairly." "I confess no such thing," she retorted. "It was very un?unfair, and it is a pity you did not linger a few minutes longer at the door. You know the old saying, "Listeners never hear," etc. "What! Would you have continued in that strain ? How unfortunate that I should have interrupted you! But I will hear the I rest when you have both the inclination and the opportunity to indulge tne. Won't you forgive ray un?unfair eaves-dropping, and sing for me?" He took her hand unforbidden, and led her to the piano. Mildred and Henriette followed as Kate said entreatingly? "Do Etta, corae and find the libretto of Don Pasquale. I promised to sing the nocturne with Mr. Waldemar when he came again, and I have not the Jeast idea where it is." She sat down upon the piano-stool and began playing arpeggios with a masterly hand, while keeping up a sort of conversation with Waldemar, half jesting, but betraying an un* dertone of feeling. Presently Henriette found the desired volume, and the duett began. Mildred listened as if her very breath were suspended. She had never heard such tones as now rose in waves of melody within that darkened room, where the gloom was scarcely dispelled by the coal-fire upon the hearth. She knew her cousin was singing, but she only heard that flute-like voice, which kept repeating the soft Italian refrain. Alexis Waldemar knew the power of his voice?that sometimes it had conquered when the 'fascination of eyes' remained powerless? and as he turned from the passionate southern face beside him and the full lips yet vibia ting with a last appeal, to the delicate profile which shone as a starou the dark background, an indefinable thrill of some new emotion made him pause for a moment in unaccustomed silence. Satiated with worldly pleasure at the age of twenty-six, his experience would have put to the blush many so-called "men of the world and now ennuye beyond expression at the finale of a recent flirtation, he welcomed, with the relish of a gourmand, the appearance of a new and untried delicacy. Yet he was not wholly bad-hearted ; only, as was said in extenuation of his faults a hundred times a day, "only selfish and spoilt." What an excuse for rational beings to make for any wrongdoing 1 The last note still lingered on the air when Mildred heard her name called. Signor Barilli had arrived, and the hour for her first lesson. Mr. Waldemar reluctantly took leave, saying, as he did so? "I shall not forego the pleasure I promise myself, Miss Weir, in hearing you sing very soon," and teacher and pupil were left alone. [to be continued next week.] IgMlatwtftts funding. TELEGRAPHIC CABLES. The construction of a telegraphic cable is a very interesting process. The first step is making what is termed the core, or conduct!n? anant nf nnnnor wiro PflrllPr Pfthlp.Q tug UgV/U V) V/A \s\J?SJS\J L Illtvi A uv VM??iwa were generally made with one conductor of thick wire, but it was found that?to use a popular saying?this plan was the mistake of putting all the eggs into one basket. If this wire were to break, an accident to which it was very liable in the act of laying it, there would have been breach of continuity, the tongue which talks under the ocean would have been struck with paralysis. In order to avoid this, a strong central wire of the best copper is used, and around this a number of fine wires are twisted. By this method the fracture of the central or base wire is no longer of importance, as the small wires, even if there was a strain upon the cable, would carry the current. Indeed, we have seen cables that have broken and dragged asunder many inches, still telegraphically perfect, for this reason. The twisting of the fine wires round the central one is very similar to the making of ordinary rope. In order to insulate the conductor, thin slips of india-rubber ribbon are carefully placed over it. It is curious to watch the machine at work at the process, which must be done with the greatest care, inasmuch as a small hole, by means of the eagerness of the electric fluid to pass through it, speedily becomes a big one. When the whole length has become thus plated, in order to secure the edges the cable is passed through a tank of liquid india-rubber, which cements them together. The core has now to be armored, when protection is required for deep or rough seas. This is done by laying stout iron wires longitudinally and parallel with the core, but these, again, have to be pro tected against the action of the salt water, which is done by a plaiting of hemp, a coating of tar completing the process. When excessively rough or rocky shores have to be guarded against, the shore ends of the cable have to be protected by several additional layers of wire armor and hempen guards. When accidents happen to cables after they have been laid, the cable has to be fished up, and the fault found and spliced. The finding of a fault in the deep ocean may appear to the reader a very difficult, nay, an impossible operation. For instance, to have to pay in the Atlantic cable, and examine it inch by inch, in order to discover possibly a mere pinhole, would seem to be a very labor of Hercules. But science is equal to the task; the electrician, sitting in his room at his instrument, by means of delicate appliances, can estimate to within a mile or two the distance at which the fault rests. If in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments the task were given to discover the place of a break in a wire running under 2000 miles of ocean, it would appear more wonderful of accomplishment than any other feat mentioned, and some poor geni or witch would have been called in to solve the difficulty. But science is the wonderful geni of modern life, and it accomplishes more apparently impossible tasks than any of the romantic writers of old could even imagine. Nevertheless, as we have said before, every precaution is taken to prevent these ultimate appeals to science; for the lifting of a deep sea cable is no child's play, and the cost is great, consequently every precaution is taken to secure the perfect insulation of the cable while it is being manufactured. Before one of these marvelous talking wires is accepted by purchasers, it is required to test up to a certain given point; and in order to secure this, there is an artisan rejoicing under the name of the fault-fiuder. We may mention that this officer is employed in the portion of the factory where the insulation is made not by india-rubber but by gutta-percha. When this insulation is used, the liquid percha is moulded on to the conducting wire as it is passed through a die, hydraulic pressure forcing the material round it in a hard, dense pipe, which looks very much like chocolate. The wire thus insulated, as it is wound off, passes through the hands of the fault-finder, whose fingers, educated by practice, feel any little air-hole that may have occurred in laying on the gutta-percha. Directly after this is found a hot iron is applied to it, and it is stopped. PUGNACITY OF HENRY CLAY. Some of the most conspicuous Whigs in Congress, becoming discontented with Mr. Clay's imperious bearing and his determination to push extreme measures, agreed to meet at General Scott's rooms at the Hope Club for consultation. Mr. Clay was not invited to attend, nor was he apprised that the meeting was to be held ; but late in the evening the fact came to his knowledge. Returning from a whist party at Bodisco's, be knocked at Scott's quarters, and was ushered into the room where the gentlemen were sitting. A hawk in a dove-cote could not have created greater consternation. He remained standing, declining a proffered chair. Glancing from one part of the room to the other, and glowering at every person present, he exclaimed in a loud voice, "Treason 1 treason ! and in the middle of the night. Play fair, Scott, play fair." And he stalked away, paying no attention to the attempts at explanation or the denials that anything secret or unfair was intended. Subsequently he was persuaded that the only object of the meeting was to consult upon the situation, and see if anything could be decided to promote harmony in the party and avert the peril impending. " Mr. Clay never forgave the gentlemen who were instrumental in procuring the nomination of Harrison. He was confident tl\at he could have been elected by a large majority, and always distrusted the fidelity of such of his friends as had acquiesced in the selection of his rival. He was sore toward Scott, and often expressed himself in contempt and derision when the General's name was mentioned. A card party given by General Macomb was largely attended by the most distinguished gentlemen in Washington. Mr. Clay came in at a late hour, leaning o- the arm of Senator Mangum. As he entered the room his attention was attracted to a whist table that happened to be made up of politicians understood to be especially friendly to Webster and Scott. Among them were Edward Curtis, George Evans and Ogden Hoffknan. Mr. Clay had been dining with a party of friends, and was not in the most placid frame of mind. Approaching these gentlemen, he broke out upon them as follows: "You manufacturers of public opinion?you makers of Presidents, who assume to control all mankind?what mischief are you now hatching ?" He spoke in a loud tone, and was heard all over the room. General 8cott came up at the moment, and Mr. Clay turned upon him, accosting him in a sneering and insulting tone: "And here's the redoubtable General himself. He was fool enough to suppose that he could be made President of the United States," at the same time putting his hand not in most gentle manner on Scott's shoulder. The General, quite perturbed, shrank from the contact, remarking, "You forget that is my wounded arm." "You are rotten all over," was the reply. Mr. Mangum led Mr. Clay from the room, and there the affair ended for the time. Some correspondence ensued, and serious consequences were apprehended. But friends interposed, and Mr. Clay, who was capable of magnanimous concession when conscious of being in the wrong, made a satisfactory apology. Mistakes in the Use of Fertilizers.? The cause of failure in the use of concentrated fertilizers is often due to the manner in which they are applied. It is difficult for tnose who have been accustomed to use bulky manures to realize that the full fertilizing potency of a bushel of animal excrement may be held in a large tablespoon, and that a handful of the one adds to plant structures as decidedly as several shovels full of the other. A full dose of opium given to patients furnishes quite a dark, bulky powder, or pill; but if we sepa rate the alkaloidal principle upon which its hypnotic power depends, we have only a little white powder which a breath of wind may blow away. The one-eighth grain powder will effect the human organism as powerfully as ten times the weight of opium. If we are so forgetful of "potencies" as to administer as much of the white concentrated powder as of the bulky dark one, we destroy our patient's life, or at least do great injury to his health. So, in the use of genuine Superphosphate, or Guano, or Ground Bones and Ashes, we forget their power, and apply too much, or applying them directly, we endanger the life of our plants. An experiment made upon corn furnishes an illustrative case in point At the time of planting upon a field divided by a narrow strip of sward land we directed that on one side a tablespoonful of the mixed Bone and Ashes should be placed in each hill, and well covered with the soil; upon the other, four rows were to be treated similarly, and upon the remainder, the hills should receive a double quantity. It was curious to observe the effect. The first field and four rows were remarkably thrifty. The corn came up well and manifested remarkable vigor from the start. On the other hand the over-dosed corn appeared for a long while as if paralyzed by some wasting disease. It could not bear up so much of a good thing. More fire ammonia was formed at the start tban could be appropriated by the tender plants, and many of them perished from over-stimulation and heat K?r tVio formontatirp nliancrps and t.hfi |71V^IUUVU Kf J Kt*V tuvu vmv< * v .... ? ?~ ^ active bodies in contact. The corn that survived grew finally and afforded a large yeld. Now, if this had happened in the course of our regular Agricultural labors, and without any understanding of the fertilizing substance used, it is probable it would have been condemned as a worthless article. This has been the case with hundreds of experiments, and, indeed, it has a natural conclusion to reach. But we must learn to reason, learn to have patience, learn the character of the substance we employ upon our lands. We must be careful how we reach a conclusion; we must examine closely to see if it is based on correct grounds. There are well established principles in Agriculture, let us cling to them, and when we get results that are puzzling or paradoxical, we must study causes, and not judge h asti ly.?Exchange. ? ^ ? Manufacture of Needles.?Needles, to prove of the finest quality, require to be manufactured of the very best steel wire that can be produced. A coil of the wire in its soft state is cut by a large pair of shears into lengths of four or five inches. The bundles of length are first to be made quite straight, which is done by putting a ring over each end, laying the bundle on an iron table, and rolling it backward and forward by a flat piece of iron placed upon it. The pieces, cut into the proper lengths for needles, are next pointed, which is done by the operator holding two or three dozen at a time upon a dry grinding stone, each wire revolving while in contact with the stone. The eye of the needle is generally perforated by female operators; the end of the wire is flattened by the blow of a hammer, and the perforation is made by a steel punch, the grove where they eye is placed being made by a particular file. The needles, when perforated, again require straightening by a process similar to that already described. They are next hardened, as hitherto the steel has been in a soft state. For this purpose, several thousand of them are placed in a cast iron receptacle, in which they are covered with ashes to prevent oxidation, heated to cherry red, and afterward tempered to a blue color. Again they require straightening;and then are scoured bright; this is performed by collecting them in regular tiers in a strong cloth, each tier being separated by fine emery, oil and soft soap. The parcel being then tied [ round with strings, is placed under a loaded box like a common mangle, by the motion of I which, backward and forward, for two or three days, the needles are rubbed against one another, and the whole come out clean and bright. Lastly, they are picked and sorted, the heads all one way, ready for sale. ? A. T. Stewart's New Palace.?Stewart's marble building on Fifth avenue, which he has erected for a home, is approaching completion. It is nearly furnished, and will be ready for occupancy early in the Spring. It is, without question, the most superb private residence in the country. It has cost three million without the furniture. The most celebrated artists have been over three years in frescoing the ceiling3. The frescoes are unequaled except those in the Prince Albert ballroom at Buckingham Palace. This style of the building has been adopted, because Stewart intends to donate it to the city for a gallery when he gets through with it. It is a sepulchral place, with stone floors and stone ataim. nav. reauirincr a fire in summer and """" 9 " V ' 1" O winter to keep it habitable. Mrs. 8tewart's room is an exception. The wood work on her suit alone cost $16,000. Every room has a carpet imported &ud made to fit it, and the color of each room is different. The doors are solid rose-wood, with silver trimmings, and it cost $600 to hang each door in the parlor. The picture gallery is complete. Several pictures have cost over $30,000. The two most celebrated are "The Prodigal Son" and "The New England Thanksgiving Dinner." The water-works are marvels of elegance and of ingenious contrivance. After the parlors, the two most celebrated rooms in the house are "Gen. Grant's room," which is fitted up with great elegance, for Mr. Stewart and the President are great friendsthen comes the "servants' parlor.'' , That is fitted up more gorgeously than any gentleman's parlor that I have seen in this city. Curtains, mirrors, imported carpets, elegant chairs covered with red leather, and pictures adorn the room. Huge ranges, and every conceivable modern convenience, can be found in the kitchen. The doors are barred against visitors generally, and the house when done is not to be put on exhibition.?New York Letter. Strength of Gibraltar.?Until you set foot on Gibraltar you can form no idea of its impregnability. Very property its real strength cannot be seen from a ship in the bay. Only when you land do you find the sea-wall bristles with heavy guns ana groans beneath piles of ball; only as you traverse its flanks do you see how formidable breech-loaders peep from every available chink, and powerful mortars lurk behind every convenient embankment. And not till you penetrate the body of the rock do you get any just notion of the marvelous piece 01 military engineering exhibited in its ''galleries.'' These are tunnels excavated from the solid rock parallel to its outer side, but some thirty feet therefrom, and large enough to drive a carriage through. They are in two tiers, and comprise a total length of nearly three miles. At every thirty feet or so along them spacious embrasures are out-hewn, that terminate in commanding port-holes, which look, to a spectator outside the rock, like swallows' nesthojes in a sand-cliff. These embrasures contain heavy guns, always standing ready for action, with powder magazines hard by. From the port-holes beautiful peeps of the bay and the Span:sh continent are obtained. Out of these on the north side, you look down upon a half-sandy, half-grassy flat, perhaps half a mile long, and as wide or wider, connecting the. rock with the main land, and separating the bay from the Mediterranean. Two lines of sentry-boxes?one at the rock and the other at the distant end?mark the boundaries of British and Spanish land, and between these lines is the "neutral ground." The guns of the quarried embrasure, and those hidden cannon that stud the western and southern slopes of the rock, cover the neighk/M^nn. Snoniak lon/1 the whrtlfi nf the baV. wuMug ??r( j:? #? ??r, and straits; and the strengthening work is ever going on by the fortification of new points that from time to time appear vulnerable. The eastern side of the rock requires no protection. It is a forbidding wall, with a great 6and-slope in one place but with no foothold for anything more than a few fishermen's huts near the water's edge. A Wonderful Manufactory.?Krupp's great iron works at Essfen, Germany, cover nearly eight square miles, and one and a half miles are under cover. They furnish employment to 10,000 meiij who do their work under a discipline as strict as that of the military serv'ce. Castings weighing forty tons have been made several times in these works, and ten and. twelve ton blocks are every-day sights. There are forty-nine hammers in the works, of which four or five are twenty-five tons, three or four fifteen- ions, and a large number five and ten tons. The greatest of all the hammers is a wonder, and. cost $500,000. Its foundations are one hundred feet deep, consisting of three tiers?the first constructed of solid masonry, the secpnd of the heaviest and stoutest oaks to be found in all Germany, and the third of cylindrical segment of cast iron upon which the anvil block rests. The head or the hammer weighs fifty tons. Its face is of steel, and in making it, after the steel had been cast, and while it was molten, cast iron was poured into it from the back. Everything that belongs to it, and to the engine that operates it, is in duplicate and triplicate. Four steam cranes serve it, and these are each tested to bear 200 tons, and are intended to bear 46 tons ingots, which are the largest cast. In 1866 61,000 tons of steel were turned out from these works. All the large German cannon are cast at these works. The Wear and Repair of the "Brain. The notion that' those who work only with tbeir brains need less food than those who labor with their hands has been the cause of untnl/I mtcnkinf ftttiirfonfa and litararv men have often been the victims of a slow starvation, from their ignorance of the fact that mental labor causes greater waste of tissue than muscular. According to .careful estimates, three hours of bard study wear out the body more than a whole day of hard work at the anvil or on the farm. "Without phosphorus, no thought," is a German saying; and the consumption of the essential ingredient of the brain increases in proportion to the amount of labor which the organ is. required to perform. This wear ana tear of the brain are easily measured by careful examination of the salts in the liquid excretions. The importance of the brain as a working organ is shown by the amount of blood it receives, which is proportionately greater than that of any other part of the body. One-fifth of the Wood goes to the brain, though its average weight is onlv one-fortieth of the weight of the body. -This fact alone would be sufficient to prove that brain-workers need more food and better food than mechanics and farm laborers.?Boston Journal of Chemistry. 1 .,? i* I?*The original of the phrase, the "goose bangs high/' is said to be "the goose honks high " referring to the cry of the wild goose during its migratory flights. When the weather is pleasant, and the prospect favorable, the birds fly high, and hence the signifinance of the phrase. .? , . ?i? . . I?" A woman, wise in .her way, says: "I neyer dress much for the theatre, because every one is looking at the play; but no one is more particular about their dress at church." i