Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | An Inbepeiibeiti Jfamilg |tch)s paper: Jor t|e ^prauttttwit of f|e ^ditieal, .Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|e Sontjr. TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 18. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 3STO. 12. ?tiginal fftfee JFing. ^ Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE FATE OF MILDRED WEIR, BY MRS. CLARA DARGAN McLEAN. CHAPTER III. "But jealous souls will not be answered so: They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous." Shakspeare. A week had elapsed, and Mildred found herself growing accustomed to the new routine of life in her uncle's home. Late breakfast, practising, shopping, drives, visitors, luncheon, calls, dinner at dusk, then some evening amusement,, uueupicu c?ci j uiumwt of time. Yet Mildred was astonished to find that, with all this pre?8 of engagements, nobody seemed to be "in a hurry." A kind of doice far niente pervaded the very atmosphere 1 as did the fragrance of a thousand flowering j orange trees. Her aunt and cousins moved about as leisurely as if the days were endless; and yet when the carriage was announced, or hr dinner, or luncheon, everybody was ready. As for herself, her fleet, bird-like movements excited perpetual remark. "Why, Mildred, you'rea regular little tomtit," Kate exclaimed. "Here and there and I everywhere, with your brown head into a book, or bending over canvas, or singing, or practising at all hours, and nobody can get a word with you. I think myself aggrieved?I do." She put down a Journal des Modes she had been listlessly turning over, and caught her cousin's hand. "Pray sit down a moment and talk to me." Mildred laughed and took the place beside her on the sofa. "I beg pardon, Kate, if I have been remiss? - - T -i i but tbe tact is i scarcely seem iu uave umc for anything: there is so much to do. At home, you see, there was the live-long day to sit and dream away: I had nothing to occupy me but my music and my books, and somem times a little fancy work. I wonder how I ever shall find time to do everything here that I know I should accomplish." "For instance?" "For instance, I want to do as much in music as possible, and to pursue my French, which one requires continually in this place? whereas at home it was scarcely ever spoken. Then I must write to mamma or aunty every day, and with all our engagements, I find I scarcely have a moment left for?" "Well 1 for what ?" Mildred flushed, but answered quietly? "For my reading and prayers. I have not been to church since I came, and I meant to go every day." "Every day! What an absurd idea! Why nobody goes, you darling little goose, but those prosy kind of people who carry about tracts and sew red flannel shirts for poor children." MIMrerl nnened her eves verv wide, as she had a habit of doing when amazed, and exclaimed? "Surely, Kate, you go to church." "Of course I go on Sundays, but where is the use of losing one's time that way during the week ?" "Losing one's time!" Mildred repeated in a tone of horror. "My dearest cousiu, what can you mean ?" "There, don't preach, Milly," Kate said wearily; "I know all you would say, and I do believe I feel it too. But wait till another time. I have something I want to say to you now." She looked half-confused for a moment, then asked in a tone of feigned carelessness, "Are you going to the soiree musieale at Madame Pignolet's to-night?'' "I suppose so?of course," Mildred replied, surprised at the question. "Why do you ask? Aunt Marion particularly requested that I should, as your friend Ninon has been so very kind and attentive." "My friend 1" repeated Kate in an ironical tone. "Perhaps she is, but I think I have better taste. Affected little doll! And such , a voice!" "What on earth is the matter, Kate ? I never heard you talk so before. Something must have disturbed jou." Mildred placed her hand on her cousin's hot brow; it was throbbing painfully. "Only a headache," Kate said moving ira? x??xi_ . 9" paueuuy. ou yuu arc guiu^ i "Dear Kate, I don't understand you. If you have any reason to object, most assuredly I will decline the invitation." "No, no?I want you to go?I will go rayself. I only want to warn?to say?. Now, Mildred, I might as well tell you plainly that I believe Alexis Waldemar is trying to flirt with you." She sat up and looked full into her cousin's eyes, which at the last few words began to dilate as half with fright, and went on ? ' "Yes, he is a most consummate trifler, and you are new?which makes the game doubly interesting. Watch him, and you will see how he divides his attentions among half-adozen other girls to-night; and you would be surprised how very nearly alike in manner, if not in words, he treats each one. I saw him last night; he was sitting beside you here where I sit now, and I know he was talking to you as he has done to a hundred others. When you sang, he listened as he thought you would best like?in silence. Ah ! he knows j exactly how to charm each, and varies his style to suit. But, Mildred, be warned. I tell you what I know but too well?he is trifling" The crimson cheeks and flashing eyes impressed Mildred even more than the emphatic words. She looked at her for a moment without speaking ; then said slowly: "Mr. Waldemar has no right whatever to imagine that I attribute his attentions to any motive beyond that of mere courtesy and friendly regard. I do like him, and until I r find reason to think otherwise, I shall treat him as a gentleman." "Very well," Kate said, rising. "Only remember, Mildred, if you ever find my warning recurring to your mind, do not say I was too late." She left the room, and went up-stairs. Mildred saw her no more till they met at dinner. She looked unusually handsome, wearing a bright wine-colored silk which was very becoming to her brunette beauty?her magnificent dusky hair adorned with a comb richly set in garnets. Mildred uttered an exclamation of delight, p "How beautifully you look!" she cried, as Kate swept down the long dining-room uuder the full blaze of gas-light. Something in the daisy-like purity and sin1 cerity of the face upturned to her struck quick contrition into the impetuous heart of the proud girl. She stopped behind Mildred's chair, and bending down, kissed her. "I hope I look better than I did when I was raving in the drawing-room, this morning. I am sure I feel better, Millv, and I do beg you will attribute all I said to that fearful headache." "Headache, did you say ?" asked Mr. More ton, quickly. He was a very fond?almost foolishly fond father. "Perhaps you had better not go out this evening, my dear." "Oh! no, papa, I am quite well now, after a long nap, and I would not miss this soiree, on any account. All our finest amateur musicians are to be there," she went on, seating hereelf at the table, "and I am sure you would enjoy it too, papa, if we could only induce you to go with us." "I dare say I should, but how can a poor ! man listen to Beethoven and Mozart with 'statutes, recognizances, fines, double-vouch era,' Ac., ringing in his head and muddling hia brains. I wish that rascal, Jack, would make his appearance, and relieve me of part; though, no doubt, if he were here he would be worth nothing in that line for ten years to come." "Now, papa," Mrs. Moreton exclaimed, suspending the soup-ladle as she spoke, "you must not be so unjust to our absent boy. I stand surety that he will go to work with a will as soon as he returns, and make good all this lost time." "Just like the rest of your lovely sex, my Marian," returned her husband, laughing." Signing your name to a paper for which you can never be held responsible. Remember you are a lawyer's wife, and don't make such blunders." "I am not likely to forget a fact of which I am so constantly and painfully reminded." "Especially when I refuse to accompany you to soirees-musicales, eh ? I plead guilty, and mean to reform shortly. What do you say, pussy?" to Henriette, who came in at that instant. "Here is your mamma bemoaning her fate as a lawyer's wife. See that you don't fall into the same trap, for Fred is coming out strong in Blackstone." Henriette's sallow face flushed vividly, and she strove to hide her confusion by stooping to kiss her father's cheek. "Oh 1 papa, Fred is not in Etta's books nnni.a.^avo " said with a merry lausrh at "V" --?V"? ^ o her sister's expense; "he has been bowing at a new shrine lately. Like all the rest of the men he can't resist Ninon Pignolet's graces and?guineas." "It isn't possible 1" Mr. Moreton exclaimed with more warmth than the subject seemed to demand. "I did give that boy credit for more stability than to be fascinated by such an outrageous coquette. I won't believe it either until I see for myself." He took up a decanter of Port and filled the glasses which stood nearest him. Mildred could not help smiling at the comical face Kate made on hearing this announcement. "You can see it any evening for yourself if you will, either at the opera or other convenient places for flirtatious. I confess I do believe, after all, it is a mere flirtation. Ninon can't help playing such games, and it is only the desire of the moth for the star which Fred evinces. Of course he cannot really love her; she is too openly fond of admiration to command that regard upon which true love must be founded." "So! a Daniel come to judgment! Now, Mademoiselle Portia, when did you make this wonderful discovery ? I insist upon being your confidant." "Papa, don't make fun of me," Kate said reproachfully, while the rest laughed heartily?even Henriette recovering her usual sang-froid. They were still sitting over the coffee an hour afterward when the carriage was an J " ? '1 TVJTV?n tka orSrlo LIUUUCCU, HilU mis. iuuiciuu uuuiui buu gu iu off, fearing they might lose part of the music. Madame Pignolet's drawing-rooms were filled with a crowd of silent listeners when they arrived. A well-known professor was seated at the piano playing the overture to Semiramide, while several amateurs accompanied him upon various instruments. The last hurrying rappel lutta forza was drawing to a close, and the hostess, a model of Creole grace and affability, approached to greet them. "Ah! my dear friend, welcome! I feared something might prevent your coming. And where is our charming debutante t Will you come this way, and allow me to present you to my mother ? Henriette?Kate, ma chere, I leave you to your adorers." She smiled, displaying a set of faultless teeth, as two or three gentlemen came forward ; and the music having eeased, Mildred followed her aunt to where a lovely old lady was sitting surrounded by a circle of friends. They made way for Mrs. Moreton, and a lively conversation ensued, for Madame Pignolet mbre was even more of a bel eeprit than her popular daughter. Mildred's eyes wandered over the throng in search of some face she knew, but for a time it was vain. She was yet too much of a stranger to feel at home among 6uch scenes, and it was a relief when she heard a voice which had become very familiar in the brief SDace that had elapsed since their informal A A introduction. "I was just about to despair of seeing you," Waldemar said, leaning over the back of her chair. There was no mistaking the pleasure which illuminated the wonderful face bending over her?a face which might have been modelled from an ideal Phoebus Apollo?perfect in proportion, and beautiful as perfect. Mildred drew in her breath quickly. Her artist eye beamed as if in inspiration, and at that instant the tone of a single violin soared over all the laughter and merry voices like the note of a lark above the din of earth. Every sound was instantly hushed except that fairy-like note. Higher and higher it rose, clearer and clearer, till Mildred felt as if she could endure no more, when suddenly as with a sweep it descended in swift chromatic staccatoes, and the adagio movement began. She saw^ the face at her side. Leaning carelessly against the divan, she could mark every phase of pleasure which swept over it, and the same music appealed to each soul with its wild, impassioned tones. Where, in all her web of circumstances and mistakes, and chances and strange coincidences, could Fate have woven a more unalterable pattern ! When that strain ceased, the eyes of her companion rested upon her face. It told him the story he was so accustomed to read ; but it was not the power of his beauty, nor his grace, nor his wit, nor any of those gifts which made him the idol of society, that now brought the new worshipper to bow at his shrine. Alas I Music, which to his sensuous nature was but an interpreter of passion, had "wrought her wrong." That light which illuminated his features, and which seemed to her the radiance of a true artist-soul, was but the reflection of an earthly ignis fatuus?a bog-candle lit by foul vapors. Mildred was still sitting with him, listening as oue amateur after another took their places 1 . !_ at the piano, and sorae song or aueit or instrumental performance followed in succession. They had heard all; but a few low words seemed to betray, from time to time, the similar train of thought in each mind. Presently Kate Moreton advanced, led by M. Pignolet. She stood for a moment beside the piano, looking nervously around while she removed her gloves. Her eyes rested upon Mildred who smiled sympathetically; but her cousin did not seem to have observed it. Taking her seat at the piano, she began to play a sparkling waltz of Chopin, which, however, quickly glided into a Polonaise, wierd and fantastic?and as quickly changed again into Listz' "Lucia." "What a mixture she is making!" somebody said ill-naturedly near Mildred as the movement was undergoing its third change. Waldemar turned and looked quietly at the speaker, and then as the magnificent introduction rolled through the apartment, not another sound was heard. The air began?that pathetic sextette in which the stricken Lucy bemoans her destiny, and Kate Moreton's whole being became concentrated in its intense and passionate pathos. There was an expression of strong yet suppressed excitement about her closed lips which few would have observed, but which struck Mildred at once. She rose involuntarily as the last chords were struck, and walked toward the piano, with that unconscious, easy grace which characterized all her movements. Kate was sitting quite still, and several persons had gathered around her. She raised her eyes as Mildred approached, and a brilliant smile overspread her features. "It was a rash effort," she said, taking the offered hand of her cousin, "but I believe I have interpreted it as I never did before." The naivete of her expression was perfectly unaffected. As a true musician, she was without vanity, while at the same time fully enjoying and appreciating her own talent. "You have indeed," Mildred exclaimed, with pride and delight shining in her eyes. "I never heard you play so beautifully." "And I reiterate that most sincerely." Waldemar stood beside them, and the low, earnest voice lent additional meaning to his words. Kate's red lip twitched convulsively; she drew on her gloves, and made no reply. "I think we had better find mamma," she said, rising presently. "Oh! do stop a moment, Kate. We want you to sing that divine duett from Don Paaquale with Mr. Waldemar. Now, do be accommodating." The speaker was a perfect blonde, with the palest flaxen hair falling over her alabaster shoulders in the most wanton profusion; large eyes of pure violet hue and child-like expression ; and a figure as plump and rounded as a Circassian girl for sale in some Oriental market-place. Her exquisite throat and arms were encircled by rows of great emeralds set in Etruscan gold, and a stomacher of rare 1 point d'Alenfon scarcely concealed her neck, while enhancing its pearly fairness. Truly she was a woman for whom men go mad?and yet her intellect could be bounded in a nutshell. As she stood there Mildred recalled the old legends of Lurlei and Circe ; the very liquid enchantment of her voice seemed pos- ' sessed of an unholy spell. "Pray don't say no, Kate," she plead with that child-like earnestness which people who did not know her' thought as real as it was 1 charming. "See, Mr. Waldemar is waiting tn hpcrin." "to He had seated himself at the instrument, 1 and looked intently at Kate's haughty face. "Excuse me, Ninon; I do not feel inclined 1 to sing this evening." She did not glance toward Waldemar, but passing her arm through that of the nearest gentleman, who happened to be Mr. Falconer, 1 walked away. Ninon Pignolet shrugged her shoulders, and drew down the corners of her rose-bud ( mouth. | " Chacun & son gout," she murmured, laying ( a familiar hand upon Waldemar's arm, and continued in French?"I had rather hear you sing alone any way, and only asked her because every body seemed to expect it." He looked at her with a peculiar smile on ( his face; then turned to Mildred and said: "I will sing you the song of which we were speaking yesterday," and without a prelude began Beethoven's "Adelaida." "Lonely wanders thy friend In Spring's green garden, Mildly streaineth the magic light around him, As thro' trembling blossom-twigs it quivers, Adelaida? Adelaida, In the mirror-like streams, Like snows on Alp-hllls, In the vanishing daylight's golden cloudlets, In the field of the stare too? Gleams thine Image?thine image, Adelaida! Evening winds In the tender leaves arc whispering Sliver May-bells amidst the cool grass rustling, Waters murmuring, And nightingales keep fluting? Adelaida!" The voice spoke to Mildred. That unmistakable intuition with which women are raer cifully endowed kept whispering to her quickbeating heart, "It is for thee!?it is for thee!" "Adelaida?Adelaida?" The voice kept calling as a wandering soul for its lost mate, and Mildred's inmost being responded : "I am here." When he rose and drew her hand through his arm, and led her away?away to a tiny 1 boudoir, which lay at the farthest extremity of the suite of drawing-rooms?a fairy-like 1 apartment opening into a conservatory where gorgeous tropical plants made the warm air heavy with perfumes?Mildred was scarcely conscious of motion. She had only known this man a week?seven short days?and yet 1 he had entered as high-priest into the musicveiled sanctuary of her heart. To some this discovery would have been fraught with fearful forebodings, but Mildred Weir's royal nature never gave with stinted hand. She recognized the king of her destiny; with joy too solemn to be ecstatic, she welcomed him. They sat down side by side. Not a word was spoken, but how eloquent that silence! Mildred could hear her own heart beating; like one in a dream she caught faint, sweet echoes of voices from the distant drawingroom, mingled with the low drop of a foun tain plashing in its marble basin a few steps from them. She made an effort to speak. "They are singing the trio from Attila," she tried to say, but her voice refused its office. "Mildred?Miss Weir?" Waldemar began hurriedly, "forgive me if I am too hasty?but I cannot control myself. You must feel that I love you." ; He had taken her trembling hand, and now pressed it passionately to his lips. "I think it is generally known as the Crown Imperial, though the botanical name is FritJ ' ? Uama n/vii A(iat? nfn/lin/1 Vv/*\+n nxr \flQQ MJWITKi, JJ.il YC JfUU CVU ObUUlCU UUbOUJ f iUiOQ Kate?" Mr. Falconer reached up and caught the fragrant cluster. "See how sweet it is," he continued, and Kate Moreton bent over it The two were standing at the farthest end of the conservatory, half-hidden by intervening foliage. Neither had been aware of the entrance of Walderaar and Mildred; but chancing to glance in the direction of the boudoir, Kate now became a witness of the tableau before her. It was one which would have delighted the eye of an artist: the Greek head bent?the delicate face of his companion transformed with a strange, intangible glory?the two figures distinctly outlined against the azure damask with which the tiny apartment was hung. Kate Moreton was only human. For a moment her imperious temper surged like the angry sea; she hated her fair-faced rival with frightful intensity. But the paroxysm passed. Alexis Waldemar had trifled with her?had won her love by that half-expressed, half-implied devotion so common with men of his stamp, who hold it a "point of honor" to go as far as possible without "committing themselves." He was not "committed." Kate must acknowledge he had never in so many words said to her, "I love you, and wish to marry you," as an honorable, true-hearted man will naturally say to the woman for whose society he had publicly shown a marked preference. He had never sought any avowal of returned affection. There had only been a tacit understanding that their feelings were mutual since the previous summer. When the gay crowd were dancing in the ball-room of the Point Clear Hotel, these two had wandered off to the shore, and Waldemar had? "nothing else to do 1" Little did he realize the fearful consequences of his "love in idleness." ; . Ninon Pignolet, too, had spread her toils in the sight of the wary bird, and he had Dretended to walk artlessly into them,?when A with a mocking laugh he suddenly fled, and left her if not indignant, at least mortified, at the signal failure. Her heart was not broken, for truth to tell, the little piece of vanity and frivolity which stood with her as an apology for that organ, was unworthy of the name; but she vowed with all the fervor of her Creole nature to be avenged, and she was! Alexis Waldemar was as desperately in earnest as it was possible for a man of his temperament to be. A strange anomaly was this Polish-American?a mixture of cold selfishness and ardent passion ; of transcendent genius and sensual tastes; of lofty aspirations and earthly appetites. Mildred Weir had appealed to all in him that was purest, noblest, best. For the first time in all his socalled "affaires du cceur" he loved truly and purely. And with a woman's intuitive perception Kate Moreton at a glance read his heart A brief struggle,?and she conquered the strongest foe of the human heart?hopeless love. Quickly she changed her position, and Bpoke in a slightly-raised voice: "Yes, it is favorite science of mine; but we can not stop to discuss it now. Mamma will be waiting, and I want to hear Ninon's harp before we leave." When they entered the boudoir, Waldemar and his companion were leaving it?the unexpected sound of Kate's voice had been ef- 1 fectual. The evening drew to a close, and Mrs. Moreton's carriage was announced. Henriette looking tired and pale, leaned against a , window and watched Ninon's white arms, bare to the dimpled shoulder, flashing across the strings of her harp, as she sang in a light, liquid soprano some foolish little French chanson?the burden of which seemed to be? "ISamour est le monde; le monde est Vamour." |, Mildred did not liear it. sue oniy saw me voluptuous figure, and the sweep of tapering arms, and a line came to her memory? "Like the songs that were sung by the Lurley maid, sweet with a deadly spell." "Let me get your cloak," whispered Wal- ] demar, who still lingered by her side, and seemed weary of the fair harpist and her chanson. "Mrs. Moreton, can I assist you ?" ' He caught the shawl which had fallen, and i walked with the ladies toward the cloak-room. * Kate followed them, laughing merrily with two gentleman who accompanied her. Wal- i demar took an opera-talma from a number ( which lay on the table, and placed it around Mildred's Bhoulders. "I do not believe this is mine," she said; , "mine is lined with blue, and this is rose-col- ; ored. That is it, I believe." Mr. Gervais was about to hand one to Kate 1 when Walderaar stopped him. "That is Miss Weir's; I have Miss Kate's ! cloak here." He brought the discarded talma in his hand, and made a movement as if to wrap it around her. # Kate drew up her splendid figure to its full height, and her dark eyes flashed. "Mr. Gervais, will you be so kind as to get ( my cloak." The uncontrollable scorn in her voice was ; too perceptible to be ignored. Waldemar's face flushed, but he bowed with courtly, sa- I tirical obeisance. ..T - - J. I ?... A "JUG TeinG ue tea rcw&ea, yvui jjuluuic uuu i obedient slave," he murmured. No one appeared to observe it; and Mildred was glad when the adieux were over, and they were rolling toward home. The ' pressure of strong, slight fingers yet lingered upon her palm; and all through the long , hours of the quiet night she heard the pas- , sion-freighted voice calling? "Adelaida?Adelaida!" [to be continued next week.] [Copies of the Enquirer containing the previous chapters of this Story ctn be furnished to new subscribers.] When the German indemnity* is paid France will have the largest national debt of any country in the world, amounting in round numbers to $4,500,000,000, or more than double the present amount of the national debt of the United States. The Chinese a^^fi small whistles to their carrier pigeons, afid by the sound of these whistles, in rapid flight, the owners recognize their own birds. Miscellaneous Reading. THE CHILDREN OF THE CIRCUS. Many of our readers, we fancy, have often seen and admired the pretty children whose graceful performances in the circus ring are always, to very many people, by far the most pleasing portion of the entertainment. There is, however, a popular belief that these children are cruelly treated to make them learn these various tricks, which some suppose to be hurtful to the infant frame. And this con sideration of course, detracts much from the pleasure that tender-hearted people would otherwise feel in witnessing the performances. The fact is that the things a child is taught to do in the ring are almost the same things that nine out of ten healthy children are continuually doing on the green-sward of the village common, or on the carpeted floors of the parental parlors?or, best of all, in, on, over, under and about the straw and haystacks of the barn-yard, or on the sweet-scented clover that fills the "bay" in the huge old barn itself. Your own little boy?dear, kind-hearted madam, who gazes so pitifully at the little circus children?if he is a healthy and welldeveloped young chap, will stand on his head, with his boots in the air, or pitch himself head-over heels a hundred times a day?thus keeping himself topsy-turvy half his waking hours?if only he has got some place where he can do it and not hurt bimseir. vvnat your boy does is almost precisely what is done by the circus children, only they are taught to accomplish their feats in the most easy and graceful way. The cruelty is a thing of the past, and the sufferings of gymnastic and equestrian apprentices of the present day are purely superstitious. In former times, however, things were very different; there is no doubt that years ago the horses and other trained animals exhibited in public were "broken" by the persistent use of the whip, and the performing children were taught their duties by the same animal means. We have changed all that?the potency of the law of kindness and common sense in the breaking and training of horses was discovered by the circus people themselves, and the world-wide propagation of the new method by Rarey and other masters of the art, thoroughly broke up the old one many years ago, both with professional eauestrians and horse-lovers. It having oeen found that horses could be trained by kindness, it gradually dawned upon the child-whipping managerial mind that possibly human beings were amenable to the same general law, and that perhaps in their case kisses might prove more effective than curses. The experiment was tried?need it hardly be said i .1 11-1 witn complete success?ana tne nome norse having been rescued from the law of the lash, the emancipation of the children from the same dreaded monitor speedily follows. The adult performers of the present day tell, however, some fearful stories of their early apprenticeship under the old system. James M. Nixon, a well-known circus manager, was apprenticed to old Turner, one of the old-fashioned rough school of managers, and father of Napoleon B. Turner and other children who became distinguished in their profession. Nixon says he was seldom spoken to without both an oath and a blow, and that the lithe lash of the heavy wagon whip cracked about his ears all day, from the time it woke him from his sleep in the all-too-early morning to the hour it sent him tingling and revengeful to his wretched-bunk at night. William Dutton, lately playing at the Fourteenth Street Circus, New York, who learned the business with Stokes, another of the tyrant managers, tells the same story?nothing but blows, oaths and kicks from morning till night, to which was added no inconsiderable amount of wholesome starvation. The children of the ring are put into training as soon as they can fairly walk, though in these days it is not usual to see a boy of less than five or six years introduced in public in the acrobatic business. In the case of eaues trians, however, the case is different?some ambitious riders bringing their offsprings before the public much younger than this. For instance, little Alexander, the son ofMcIville, the Australian, has ridden in an act with his father since he was twenty months old, and he has never yet met with an accident more Berious than happens to any boy who "stubs his toe" against the stone. The first acts in which the little ones are allowed to appear before an audience are what are technically known as "acrobatic," or "posturing" scenes. Those who watch these performances carefully will notice that the youngest ones of the party have very little to do, save to stand in the proper "position" and reserve an occasional toss from the senior member of the group, which toss or throw sometimes looks as if very carelessly administered, but which is in reality done with the greatest care and gentleness. In fact, the modern system of teaching the business by emulation, instead of by threats and hlrnca mnlrpa ftio vniincrat/>ra an ftmhit.iniia that they are always begging to be taught new "facts," and nine out of ten of the trifling falls they get in the ring are brought on by the attempts to accomplish more than they are at the time capable of achieving. The love of applause is inborn with us all, and jealousy sometimes so raukles in the baby bosoms of these spangled little ones, that they would, if unchecked in their mad career, often break their tiny necks in trying to outdo each other. To many an ambitious youngster the greatest possible known punishment is being debarred the privilege of appearing with his exultant companions in starred and tinseled finery, and exhibiting his hard-earned accomplishments to the applauding multitude. Most of the children in the profession at present are the offspring of performers, who are not afraid to have them taught the business, as the teaching is now done. Formerly many "circus actors," particularly the mothers, would rather have laid their little ones in their coffins than see them brought up to the business of their parents. Remembering the blows and stripes of their own apprenticeship, few mothers could bear the thought of dying and leaving their tender babes exposed to the brutality of which they had. themselves had such experience. It was for this reason that formerly many cldldren were taken as circus apprentices from almshouses or from degraded parents, in whom the love of rum had extinguished all sparks of parental affection, and who would be consoled by a few dollars for the loss of their too-often unwelcome urchins. These unfortunate youngsters were, for the most part, "adopted" by irresponsible men, who, only too frequently, instead of properly teAehinp them the Drofession. would discard O ? 9 them as soon as they outgrew the "haby business," and leave them to shift for themselves, while they sought younger victims. Children "adopted out" in this manner by greedy and selfish "poor-masters," were almost invariably treated in the most brutal manner, and seldom failed to run away from their masters as soon as age and experience had brought sufficient intelligence and knowledge ofthe world. Apprentices of this kind are seldom taken now. Many of the younger members ofthe trade at the present time are children of deceased riders or gymnasts, who have died lyippy in the knowledge that the friends who have adopted their "kids" will treat them as kindly and teach them their business just as thoroughly as though the parent was present overlooking the lessons in the flesh. Who that has read Dickens' "Hard Times," will forget the kindly offers of the Manager Sleary, and the women of his "horse-riding" troupe, to adopt and teach the business to little Sissy Jupe, whose father, the whilom clown of the establishment, had, in a fit of despondency, run away from her. And who will forget how these riding and tumbling people, so heartily despised by Mr. Gradgrind, the man of "facts, sir, facts," afterward did that same hard man a most essential service by concealing his felon son, and running him out of the country, being moved by no nope or promise of reward, but only by their simple gratitude to the man who, despite his hardness and harshness to them, had yet been kind to little Cecilia, who had, when a very baby, been one of themselves. In gymnastics, the youngsters are taught nrst aomtj postunug tuiu me unuuwg pwiuuno, then comes what is technically known as the "split," which consists in spreading the feet apart till the legs are at exact angles with the upright body, a feat which any lissome lad or lass of six years or less can do almost without practice. Next they are taught "bending" which means to throw the head back as far as possible toward the heeld; this being learned, a grown person places his hand under the back of the youngster, when a slight toss, by throwing the feet over the head, transforms the "bend" into the "somersault" When the child has mastered the backward and forward "somersault" the hardest of his education as a ' "tumbler" is over. The other feats come easily by practice?-"vaulting," "battoute leaps," "spring-board somersaults," "flip-flaps" "hand-springs," "cart-wheels," and the like are learned in a few months. If the young person, either male or female, is to learn the tight rope business, he or she is not, as one might suppose, exercised at hrst on a low rope stretched near the ground. On the contrary, the pupil is placed at once on a rope at as great an elevation as is required in the regular performances, and from the very first, learns the business as it must afterward 1 be done. There are two reasons for this? first, it accustoms the novice at once to the height; and, second, it gives space for the employment of the "balance pole," a long bar of twelve to twenty feet in length, and which, were the rope stretched low, would constantly embarrass tne learner by striking the ground on either side. As it is absolutely necessary to future success that the performer sHould be perfectly bold and self-possessed, and not become timid by reason of hurts received in the falls which at first are unavoidably many, men are stationed on either side the rope, into whose ever ready arms the youngster falls, and so never comes to grief, however frequent are the tumbles. When children first essay to ride alone, a heavy leather belt is buckled around the waist; from this belt a long and strong cord passes through a ring in the top of the "pad" or "surcingle," and the free end is held in the hand of the "ring-master." I? being thus protected, young master loses his feet, an instantaneous pull upon the cord draws him flat down on the back of the horse, and by no stretch of infantile ingenuity can he get under the animal's heels. The apprentices frequently learn to ride the "pony act," in which the tiny pattern of a man, dressed as a jockey or a courier, urges on his steed, with his shrill cries and many wavings of his little cap. This act is always ridden on two ponies, and the young rider will contrive to Blip and fall between his miniature steeds, while a thrill of horror pervades the crowd, who applaud most lustily when, the next minute, the plucky little fellow regains his feet, picks up the reins and drives on faster than ever. The compassionate audience need not waste their sympaties, however; this fall is merely one of the "tricks of the trade," introduced simply for "effect," and the cord before described, would not let the rider fall if he wanted to. On the whole, the improvement in the manner of training children for this sort of life is most marked and commendable. It is not a business to which every parent would care to bring up his little ones ; but, after all, "people must be amused," and every one of these circus children is a thousand times better off in having an honest, though perhaps humble, trade than are the thousands of miserable little waifs that swarm in our streets and alleys, whose present condition is utter poverty, and whose surest expectation of a rise in life is grounded upon nopes of a future of successful and undetected thievery. One word more?many persons suppose that "circus riders" are invariably and inevitably given to drunkenness and dissipation. Never was there a more unjust aspersion?there are black sheep everywhere, but there is quite as great a proportion of true, honest wives, kindly loving mothers and as faithful husbands in < this as in any other line of life?their misfortunes in this regard is the same as that of the , theatrical profession, viz: that, owing to their public lives, every scandal in their ranks is known and magnified, while people in quieter i walks of life may, perhaps, be ten times more licentious, and yet not one-tenth as notorious. < The artist who has to back a fiery horse at j night, or do a trapeze performance at a height so great that a fall from his dizzy perch would be almost certain death, is not likely to shake his nerve, or loosen his grip by the use of intoxicating liquors, so there are few instances of habitual drunkenness among this class of professionals. A WORD MORE T<TTHE YOUNG MEN. In Wednesday's issue, we touched, in a cursory way, on the duties and prospects of the coming campaign. We attempted to show that silent influences are more potent than loud harangues; and that to the former we must look for even partial success. The question now presents itself, "Who can exer- , cise this influence, and who will prove the ' most efficient agents in the work or political : reform ?" We reply, the young men. In them j are found that enthusiasm, that elasticity of spirit, that energy, that physical vigor, which are essential requisites of successful workers, f In addition to these natural endowments, the ; youth of the State possess other strong ele- i ments of success. In the first place, they can < realize and appreciate the present situation of i affairs more easily than any other class of our t white citizens; for, arriving at the age of ma- 1 turity, either while the ravages of war were i being felt through the land, or under a Eadi- i cal administration, they have forgotten many f of the prejudices and sentiments which for- j merly dictated the policy of the South. This j our older class of citizens find themselves un- i able to do. Old ideas have been so firmly < implanted in them as to be only with the greatest difficulty eradicated. 1 In the next place, the young men can more j easily persuade our colored friends of their 1 sincerity in accepting the situation, and their ] assertions will at least be heard with patience; j while the protestations of their seniors?those < who have taken a decided stand in the ranks ] of the old Democracy, however sincere they j be?will pass unheeded. This is what our ] young friends can accomplish, and if they will make a determined effort, their influence for good will be most certainly felt. i We believe that the majority of our colored < friends are anxious to do what is right. They i have been estranged from the white people 'of i the South by the malignant falsehoods perpe- i trated by Northern adventurers, to the effect j that the success of the white man means slave- i ry to the black ; and if they can be divested < of this absurd idea, they will with one accord < array themselves on the side of truth, honesty i and virtue. Young men, you are to accomplish all this. To you our common mother i calls in her hour of trial. The past belongs to your fathers; the present and the future belong to you. You must battle for your in heritance. It is too much blessed by nature to be relinquished without a struggle. Come forward, then, and suffer it not to pass into the hands of strangers and aliens.?Phanix. The Girl who Wins.?-The time has Sassed awav when women must be pale and elicate to be called interesting?when she must be totally ignorant of all practical knowledge to be called refined and highbred?when she must know nothing of the current political news of the day, or be called masculine and strong-minded: It is not a sign of high birth or refinement to be sickly and ignorant Those who affect anything of the kind are behind the times, and must shake up and air themselves mentally and nhvsicallv. or droD under the firm j 4 ' - -1 -- 4 strides of common sense ideas, and be crushed into utter insignificance. In these days an active, roey-faoed girl, with brain quick and clear, warm, light heart, a temper quickly heated at intended insult or injury, ana just as quick to forgive; whose feet can run as fast as her tongue and not put herout of breath; who is not afraid of freckles or to breathe the pure air of heaven, unrestrained by the drawn curtains of a close carriage ; and above all who can speak her mind ana give her opinion on important topics which interest intelligent people, is the true girl who will make a good woman. This is the girl who wins in these days. Even fops and dandies who strongly oppose woman's rights, like a woman who oan talk well, even if she is not handsome. They weary of the most beautiful creature it sbe is not smart. They say, "Aw, years, she is a beauty, and no mistake, but she won't do for me?lack, brains"?of which commodity it would seem she could hftve little use in her association with him; however, to please even an empty-headed fop, a woman must know something. General SArman as a Lawyer.?A case was tried in 1857, in which General Sherman, who then resided on a farm in what was then Calhoun county, was employed as an attorney. The General came in with an immense pile of law books and his precedents well selected. He expected to try the case before Squire Gibbs, as a good lawyer should, and had taken the ease more for the purpose of aiding a neighbor in what be had been made to believe a good case, and to relieve him from injustice, than for any fee. The jolly old justiee came into court, and announced the case for hearing. The General said the plaintiff was reaay. A long, lank, lean-looking genius, who stopped a string of cattle and a log-wagon in the street, and stuck bis whip with a twelve feet lash behind the door, appeared for the defence. The testimony was neard, and General Sherman delivered his argument and presented the law in the case in an able manner, as a good lawyer would. He read from the common law of England, and cited cases in the reports of several American States. The bull-whacker followed him, and ridiculed his precedents, and scouted at his books. He said it was an inonlt. fn thfl mnrt tn read from the "common law of England," and declared that "if we were compelled to take any of that aristocratic British law" he wanted the "very best her majesty had, and none of her common law." This was enough, the justice's face was set and the general lost his case. It was the last he ever tried in Kansas. He left and Kansas losta medium sort of farmer. Whose Hair was It ??A novel trial is reported to have taken place in London. A lady went to a ball, and when preparing to return to her home in the evening, before going to her carriage took off her coiffure and tied it up in a handkerchief to keep it fresh for a party she was to attend the following night, and that she might the more conveniently put warmer wraps on her head, the evening being cold. When she reached her dwelling the coiffure was not in the carriage. She despatched a messenger for it, but it could not be found. Some days after she met an acquaintance, whose hair was thesame color as her own?rather a peculiar hue?and was satisfied she wore her coiffure. She taxed her with it Of course, it was indignantly denied. So certain was the lady that it was her hair the other had taken from the ball and was; wearing she sued her for it When the trial came on the defendant struck the prosecutor dumb and convinced the court by letting down her tresses and showing they were her own, thereby procuring a judgment in her favor. Subsequently Bhe quarreled with her hair dresser, when it came out that the hair she had so dexterously exhibited as as having grown on her head had been artfully and artistically arranged for the pulling down process by her dresser. fit ? ? ? Beautiful Women.?The perceptive faculty of woman is usually'keener than the same phrenological organ in man. Woman knows, or strongly believes, that beauty rather than genius is worshipped by the sterner sex. A ??< oil' nf flio laHor fn hia lnriv lfWP Luau Uiaj Mtm VI vu V 1M?W? ?v y ? . ?, but the keenness of the woman knows that he is thinking of the former in his heart. All women have an innate desire to please their beaux. They are fond of admiration, hence one of their longings is to be beautiful; to be called pretty, handsome. The grand secret of female beauty is health ; the secret of health is the power, appetite to eat, digest, and assimilate a proper quality of wholesome food; yet, in connection with this, there is something more important, active exercise, which will cleanse and tone the vital organs, gain a perfect digestion, purify the blood, clear up the complexion, and produce a state of mental and physical electricity, which gives symmetry of form, bright, eyes, white skin, glossy hair, the last a genuine type of female beauty and loveliness which no cosmetic can produce. A Romantic Story About Morgan.?A lingular story comes from the Western plains, professing to solve the mystery connected with the disappearance of Morgan in 1826, an event which created intense excitement throughout the country in its day, in consequence of the supposition that he had been secretly killed by the Masons for having published a book betraying their secrets. It is alleged that he was taken a captive in Texas, where he escaped and joined a band of Apaches. Of course, be married the chief's daughter, and in time became chief, teaching the tribe military tactics, and initiating them all into the mysteries Df Masonry. At a good old age he died, leaving his halfbreed son to reign in his stead, and is now buried in the "Golden Mountain," in a tomb walled up and covered with solid gold, which bas become an Apache Mecca, where the tribes all meet yearly to worship on the 24th )f June. The story is too wild for credence, but being the last development of what has iiways Deeu aa unpeaeiruuie mystery, it ia perhaps worthy of a passing note. Early Education.?Experience demonstrates that of any number of children of equal intellectual power, those who receive do particular care in childhood, and who do' not learn to read and write until the constitution begins to' be consolidated, but who enjoy the benefit of a physical education, beat those who commence earlier, and read numerous books when very young. The mind ought never to be cultivated at the expense of the body: and physical education ought to precede that of intellect, and then proceed simultaneously with it without cultivating one faculty to the neglect of others; for health is the base, and instruction the ornament of education.