Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, October 10, 1872, Image 1
lewis m. grist, proprietor, ^it ! nbepcnknt Jfamiljj ftefospapcr: ^or t|e promotion of tlje political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of % Soufji. {terms?$3.00 a year, in adyance.
VOL. 18. YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER IP,' 1879. NO.41. '
?hc Jdflrir IcUcr.
NUMBER TWENTY-NINE.
"It is of no use, mother," and the young
man pressed his lips more firmly together, as
if fearful that the sorrowful, stately figure before
him might lead him to retract his determination.
"I have accepted the position, and
am to enter on my duties to-morrow. Now,
mother"?as she moaned at this plain statement
of facts?"I understand your feelings
thoroughly. I went through the whole strug
gle yesterday, but now I can truthfully say I
am glad that circumstances have brought me
to this. Why, mother, look at the matter.
I am not putting down pride by this course,
but upholding it. If I, a man of twenty-five,
well, strong, and of sound faculties, should
consent, for one moment, to be a burden on
another, I would, indeed, be a fit subject for
tears, and our pride of birth might well be
leveled ; but, as it is, I aim to keep unspotted
our clear family record, and shall let independence
and honesty compensate for the
wealth which has SO suddenly disappeared."
The mother's face brightened a little. The
enthusiasm and high-mindedness of the handsome
fellow wrought a slight but salutary
^ change in her emotions, and the sigh was but
a faint edition of previous ones with which
she preceded her next remark.
"But a letter-carrier, ray son! Surely a
higher position than that was attainable. Of
what avail will prove your talents and education
in such a life ?"
Alton isurxe smnea saaiy.
"Mother, my talents and education have all
been devoted to one object?the practice of
law. Father's sickness has prevented my beginning
my profession with him, as we had
proposed. I will not ask the business influence
of those who have socially given us the
cold shoulder; and without influence there is i
no possibility of obtaining a mercantile posi- j
tion. I have tried perseveringly?you know
with what result. We must live; and a lettercarrier
is, in ray opinion, far superior to an
aimless puppy who sits down contented to exist
on the bounty of relatives."
Mrs. Burke had by this time become pretty
wetl imbued with her son's magnetic fervor.
Her eyes were brighter, her forehead clearer,
"* and she had almost smiled, when another con- j
sideration intruded itself, and, with most unpardonable
officiousness, dashed the gathering :
brightness back into its hiding place.
"But, Alton, " Here the fond mother ;
hesitated. It was a delicate subject she would
have touched upon, and she was uncertain how
to proceed. He divined her meaning intuitively,
and a sadder light came into his dark
eyes.
"Maud Murray, I suppose you mean, mother.
Well, I have relinquished, with other
hopes, the idea of winning her. She is proud!
woefully proud?so am I. Adversity has
leveled that portion of my pride which was
weakest, but she has never been tried, aud will |
view the matter as I should probably have j
done a month ago. Alton Burke, the aristo- j
crat, was very well; but Alton Burke, as j
Letter-Carrier, No. 29, would be scorned most j
heartily. I don't think the pecuniary loss i
would have affected her. She is far too noble j
for that. But social degradation she could j
not endure. It is well that there was no en-!
gagement existing between us, as there need
be no formal breaking of bonds."
"But Alton," and the speaker's voice trembled
as she saw her boy thus putting away
from himself all hope of happiness, "you may
misjudge Maud. Shall you make no endeavor
to discover whether your estimate of her
character be correct ?"
The dark face flushed brilliantly as the remembrance
of certain cuts from divers of the
small-minded of his past "set" rose vividly to
his mind, and very emphatic was the response:
"No ma'am / Maud Murray has our address,
1 J _ _ _ 1 2. 2. _ * P* 3 i
ana any uesire on ner pari 10 retain our irienuship
may be easily manifested by a call on
you. The worst part of my business is, that
her street is the principal one of ray new
route, and as the number of the young lady's
correspondents are by no means limited, I;
shall doubtless often have occasion to visit the ;
mansion in my new capacityand with a !
whistle neither very loud nor very firm, the j
young man turned to the window, looked out j
a moment silently, and then walked from the i
room.
Alton Burke was morally strong. He had j
studied, had traveled, and was just about to;
commence the practice of law with his father, i
Judge Burke, when that gentleman was strick-!
en with paralysis. Some time before his ulti-,
mate illness he had shown symptoms of men-1
^ tal weakness, which had worried his friends 1
exceedingly, and when his affairs came to be
looked into it was found that of his enormous j
fortune scarcely a thousand dollars remained, j
Certain sharpers had taken advantage of his ;
business imbecility and drew him into specu- j
i?,;? i
latlUil HULL! VVilHJlL 1115 IIlULJey UilU SUllIUt'IV
more hope of escape than from a grave. His
son, a young man whom fortune had petted
to an exceptional extent, rose superior to the
circumstances which had come upon hiru
without the slightest preparation, and rejecting
the money offers which had come in from various
wealthy relatives, went manfully to work j
to procure a position, the proceedings of which I
would be sufficient for the support of himself,
and parents. This was not an easy underta-1
king. The relatives who so generously proffered
pecuniary aid had no sympathy with
what they termed his "Quixotic ideas of in- \
dependence." They would gladly have placed I
him in some law office, and taken care of the ]
family until he should have worked himself
up to a paying position in his profession ; but
the idea of a mercantile life for one upon
whose education so much had been expended,
and who most undoubtedly possessed superior
talent for the bar, was to them preposterous,
and they refused utterly to render him any assistance
in the way he desired.
After persevering and energetic endeavor,
he discovered that, unaided, it was useless for
him to seek either very profitable, or 'genteel'
occupation ; so, after a struggle far more intense
than even his mother had any conception
of, he accepted the first and only situation offered?a
metropolitan carriership. The blow
was hard enough of itself, but his love for one
of the proudest women of New York city
made his troubled heart even more sensitive
He had seen them banished from her good
graces for trifles no other young lady in her
circle would think of noticing, and although
she was in every sense of the word her own
mistress, the possibility of her overlooking his
self-imposed lowliness never once occurred to
him. She was?must be?fully aware of his
affection; but that fact made it only the more
hopeless ; and resolutely putting away all
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menced, the next morning, his trying occupation.
As he expected, among his budget were
several epistles for Miss Maud Murray.
"Pshaw !" he murmured, impatiently ringing
the area-bell; "if Colonel Gregory sends
her a letter every mail, its none of my business
!"?for he had recognized the writing 011
one of the envelopes.
Truly, his cross was hard to bear. The
streets through which he was daily obliged to
pass were among the most aristocratic thoroughfares
of the city, and the majority of individuals
to whom it was his business to convey
letters had been in days past his nearest
friends.
Colonel Gregory was the only person, exm.
cepting himself, whom Miss Murray ever honored
with any special amount of favor, and
this was evidently owing quite as much to his
J own persistency as to any wish of the young !
I lady in question. Colonel Gregory honored !
Alton Burke with his supreraest hatred, and I
it was, perhaps, natural that he should rejoice
: over his rival's downfall. His bachelor establishment
was in close contiguity to Miss:
: Murray's palatial home, and Alton felt but
i too surely how every opportunity now favored j
his love for the fair heiress.
A week or so went on. As he expected,
' neither in person nor by letter did Miss Mur:
ray recognize their past friendship. One j
; morning they met face to face on the street? I
oho with n lnrK- fripnrl hp with Ilia Uniform
".v.. V. ? ,
I and letters. Her face reflected the crimson of j
his, and even at that moment he felt a thrill ;
! of triumph, for few were they who had the j
i power to make the haughty Maud Murray t
I change color. The friend looked steadily
, across the street. She looked straight at him, j
and, with a distant but courteous bow, passed j
on. Her pride would never allow her de-1
meaning herself. Alton Burke smiled sadly, i
' Possibly, had she followed the example of her j
; companion his love would have turned to con- J
! tempt. As it was, it was rather increased
j than diminished.
The next time he met the young lady she j
| was accompanied by Colonel Gregory. There '
| was no chance of evading the meeting; in j
i fact, had there been, it is doubtful if he would !
i have availed himself of it. The sight nerved
| him with a desperation inclined rather to
court than evade the disagreeables of life.
1 Miss Murray colored again, and inclined her I
J head in recognition. Had Colonel Gregory >
j been a man of tact he would have doue the !
' same; but Colonel Gregory was not a man of!
] tact, at least, not on that particular occasion.
I "Here, my man!" he hallooed, stopping
short on the sidewalk; "any letters for Colonel
Samuel Gregory ?"
"I only deliver letters at the residence of
the person addressed," he answered haughtily,
i Miss Murray smiled, and then, as both men
would have hurried on, asked with a defiant
glance at her small-minded companion :
"How is your father, Mr. Burke ?"
"Better, I thank you, Miss Murray."
"I am very glad to hear it," she responded, j
cordially. "Will you remember me to your
mother ?"
"I will."
And with another bow they parted, Colouel
Gregory the while biting his lips in undisguised
annoyance.
The young carrier's heart was a little lighter
as he passed on. Not that he built any hope
for himself in her few words. He thoroughly
understood that they were intended almost en- j
tirely for Colonel Gregory's benefit; but the j
look of contempt her face had worn for one |
second showed that her rude companion could j
never hold a place in her heart, and for that
he was unspeakably glad.
Several times after this he met the lady, but
not again did she unbend from her haughty I
dignity. His evenings Altou Burke devoted j
entirely to discovering the reasons for his i
father's pecuniary losses, which had been con- J
sidered by every one as irretrievable.
By diligent and thorough research he had
discovered affairs to be not nearly so bad as
represented. His legal acumen, although as
yet untested, was of no mean order, and his
own intense interest in the matter served to I
render his efforts the more strenuous. Fifty [
thousand dollars, at least, he discovered to be j
recoverable, and, certain of this, he prepared j
to relinquish his unprofitable and distaseful
position, and proceed at once to building up
a practice in the profession for which he was
so thoroughly fitted.
It was his last day on duty, and, scarcely
with regret, and yet with a certain sadness, he
went over the well-remembered rounds. Arriving
at the Murray mansion, with, as usual, I
a letter or so for Miss Maud ; he was accosted
by the servant, agitatedly :
"Oh ! Mr. Burke (it was the first time she
had ever shown signs of recognition,) "can't
you come up-stairs a minute ? Colonel Gregory's
going on awful, and there's nobody in j
the house but Miss Maud and us."
The girl was undoubtedly terrified, and fol-1
lowing her into the hall he tried to get some I
idea of the truestate of the case. She stopped j
unwillingly enough, seeing that he would not!
follow her up-stairs without some explanation, j
and went on hurriedly:
"Well, sir, he came about an hour ago, and |
asked for Miss Maud. She sent word, 'En- j
gaged,' but he said he must see her, so she :
went down. He was white as a sheet. First j
he talked loud, but at last he got to yelling j
and pacing the floor like a wild animal. I j
got frightened and went up to the door just J
now. He was standing against it, I know, j
* 1 . _ . 1_?.. 1 _ x - 1 ?4. T .
oecause sue was asxing mm 10 let ner oui. x
don't suppose he'd hurt her, but he's in an
awful rage, and?do come up."
He required no further urging. The idea !
of the woman he loved being subjected even ,
to an unwelcome presence was terrible, and he j
followed the excited girl up-stairs without a 1
word of comment. She drew him into the
back parlor and whispered :
"Just stay here, and see that ho don't hurt
her. I don't believe she'd like us to interfere j
unless we had to."
He nodded assent.
"No," came in thundering tones from the ;
next room. "I will not allow you to retire un-!
til you have made me some reply. When you j
inform me whether you love any one else I \
will be satisfied, but not before. You say |
there is no possibility of your learning to love i
me. I wish to judge for myself."
"Very well, sir," and the lady's voice rang |
forth scornfully clear. "Theu, be satisfied?I j
do love some one else. Now, I will pass." j
But still he intercepted her.
"One word more," and that the words came
through clinched teeth was apparent to the
unwilling listener. "Is it your postman whom
you have honored with your a flection ?"
i The "postman" would have sprung forward j
! then, but the servant detained him. She be- j
: gan to think her fears had been somewhat i
foolish, and was anxious, if possible, to remove 1
her companion without having any collision
between the two men. Had the folding-doors
been transparent, Maud Murray would proba-!
bly have given her sneering questioner a dif- j
ferent answer; but utterly unsuspicious of the j
: proximity of the individual most concerned,
and anxious to bury her companion's hop'; j
beyond all possibility of resurrection, she an-;
; swered, as clearly as before :
"If, by the postman, you refer to Alton ;
Burke, I will answer you"?and here she j
paused to give the succeeding word due eml
phasis, " Yes." |
"I thought so," muttered the man ; while j
| Alton, doubting alternately his own sanity,
; wakefulness and hearing, listened in half-,
; stupor. "But," with an insulting leer, "I '
should have thought it in better taste to choose
| your coachman ; his livery is much more gen- i
| teel."
j This was too much. Pushing aside the girl !
who vainly urged him to be quiet, Alton
i Burke pushed open the door and stood before
the astonished couple. Maud Murray was too
dumbfounded even for blushes, and stood '
' without a word, while he turned to the craven '
, before him,
"There is the door, sir. Make u=o of it."
j "Colonel Gregory's bravery did not show
itself there, for, without a word, he walked '
from the room, and iu a moment more the .
' street door was slammed behind him. Then ;
Alton turned to the lady. The recollection of
j the confession made but a moment before had
by this time crimsoned her face. It is uncer- \
. tain whether magnanimity or pride most j
j prompted Alton Burke's next speech ; but!
j there was assuredly considerable of the latter j
' manifest as he said: I
"Mis9 Murray, do not allow any of the
events of this morning to trouble you. I think
you need fear nothing further from Colonel
Gregory, and X understand too thoroughly
your position to base an insane hope on your
answers to his impertinent queries."
The lady bowed just as coldly as himself,
as he turned to leave the room ; then, while
the blood mounted to the roots of her hair,
she said:
"Mr. Burke?"
He stopped and waited for her to proceed.
She knew very well that this man loved her,
and one would have thought it no difficult
matter for her to have said, "Stay !" but she
found it impossible ; and, finally, between embarrassment
and excitement, she broke entirely
down, and cried as if her heart would
break.
Her companion was bewildered. The servant,
with considerable tact, had left them
immediately. He must try and soothe her:
and, approaching the weeping girl, he said,
sadly:
"Miss Murray, do you refuse to trust me ?
I tell you I will never allow myself to think
of your words?will forget them?"
"But," interrupted Maud, half-defiantly?
his stupidity was doing much to allay her
hysterics?"I don't want you to forget them."
This, though, lacking somewhat in explicitness,
was sufficient for even Alton Burke's
comprehension, and to this day the prominent
lawyer rejoices in the misfortune which, by
forcing him into an humble independence,
gave him so fine an opportunity of testing the
reality of his wife's affection.
llpadhtfl.
fVJJ Wtvirm T WT -y T. n- jWTTimfTTijj?
Correspondence of the Yo.kville Enquirer.
LETTER FROM "DOWN EAST."
Boston, Mass., October 4,1872.
Another change has come over the spirit of
the gentleman having charge of the key of
the elements. "Old Sol" has made his annual
pilgrimage "across the line," the rains have
ceased, and we are having truly delightful autumn
weather?and for once, just right for
every body, apparently, and judging by the
crowded state of our streets and avenues all
the world and the "rest of mankind" are contented
and intend to make the best of this
"spell of weather" while it lasts. Such being
the case, and promenading tne oraer or me
day, if you will accompany me we'll stroll
through Tremont street and look inside of the
OLD GRANARY BURYING GROUND
Which, long since abandoned as a burial
place, still contains many reminiscences of the
great men of the early days of Massachusetts.
Here lie the remains of nine former Governors
of the colony and State ; two of the signers
of the Declaration of Independence; Paul
Revere, the patriotic mechanic, in whose honor
one of the finest hotels in the city has been
named ; Peter Fanuiel, who erected and presented
to the city the old "cradle of liberty,"
Fanuiel Hall; and many others of more or
less note, whose histories are familiar to every
general reader. Upon the front of one of the
tombs can be seen a little marble slab in"Va
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is all that marks the last resting place of the
famous first signer of the Declaration of Independence.
Although there is little or no display
made by imposing monuments, one in
particular attracts the attention of visitors
more than the others, from the fact of its being
rather conspicuous. Curiosity led me to give
it more than a passing glance, and upon examination
I discovered it to be a monument over
the remains of the parents of Benjamin Franklin.
It contains the epitaph composed by the
great man who, in "filial regard to their memory
placed this stone." This graveyard being
in the heart of the city, on one of the most
fashionable thoroughfares, and adjoining a
large, first-class hotel, is quite an object of interest
to temporary sojourners.
In public charitable institutions, Boston
leads any other city on this continent, notable
among which, is the
PERKINS INSTITUTE FOR TIIE BLIND,
One of the most interesting of the public j
buildings, which is located in that part of the !
city known as south Boston. It has been in i
operation with uninterrupted success for mauy J
years, and the average number of inmates is j
about one hundred and nity. liie amount or,
good done by this institution is incalculable, j
and wonders have been accomplished in the !
instruction of the unfortunates deprived of
sight, who have had the opportunity of being |
inmates. The absence of the senses of hear- j
ing as well as of sight, has not been insuper- j
able objects to learning, as cases of persons i
who were deaf, dumb and blind have been j
taught to read and communicate with their :
fellow beings through the sense of feeling.
The sexes are entirely separated, the ladies ;
- .... > ! J ? ,1.^ '
and girls being 111 buuaings removeu uuiu me ,
main asylum. The inmates, of both sexes, are j
divided into families, each of which keeps a j
separate account of its expenses. This asy- {
lum, although charitable to a certain extent,!
is partially self-supporting; for such of the j
pupils as are able to pay, maintain themselves ;
the same as at a boarding school. All the j
pupils are taught some useful trade, so that
when they go out into the world they are!
competent to take care of themselves.
THE CONSUMPTIVES' HOME.
Owing to the peculiarities of this climate, the
sudden changes of weather cause many dis-!
eases of the throat and lungs, and in conse- i
quence of the inadequate accommodations for
that class of patients in ordinary hospitals,
the above named establishment was founded
some years ago by Dr. Charles Cullis. It is
said he began without any funds and depends
upon daily contributions for the wants of the .
Home. The founder calls the institution a '
"Work of Faith," on account of his never
having solicited donations, but has petitioned
"Him that docth all thimrs well," for aid in
the work ; and he regards the contributions
he receives as direct answers to his prayers, j
The building is a very large and spacious
mansion surrounded with ample grounds, I
making the Home a most desirable asylum for
the poor diseased people who go there for
treatment, and is a comfortable home for
them until their sufferings are ended by death, i
All persons, old or young, black or white,
native or foreign, who are sick with consumption,
without friends or home, are "freely refA
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port, "in the name of the Lord."
senator sumner,
It seems to be pretty generally believed, cannot
be induced to accept the nomination of the j
Liberals and Democrats for Governor, and i
there is some talk about making another nomination.
It has not been definitely settled
upon whom the honor will be conferred ; but
the indications at present are that Frank W.
Bird, a prominent and popular Liberal Republican,
will be chosen as the standard bearer,
provided he will accept. His nomination,
it is believed, would give entire satisfaction to
both wings of the new party. Hunk mom.
From tlic Turf, Field and Farm.
! A BEAR HUNT WITH GENERAL HAMPTON.
A REMINISCENCE.
It is now more than fifteen years since I
passed through that soul-harrassing, clothcs!
tearing, brain-exciting experience yclept "a
bear hunt;" and I am frank to confess that I
! never felt anxious to go on another. Not
i that I don't like the "bear" in the abstract,
i T dn hut. in the concrete! I sav it solemnly.
i give me the chances of shipwreck, a lighted
I cigar in a powder mill, the rattling volley of
a line of battle, a kerosene lamp explosion,
; anything, in short, that has a reputation for
! being dangerous, in preference to four or five
hundred pounds of wild meat that ruus riot
without chart or compass, ignores all rules of
legitimate sport, and requires a flask of powder,
a score of rifle shots, and the salient argument
of a Bowie-knife, before you can enjoy
the satisfaction of knowing that your
game is so eminently dead as to deserve an
obituary notice. I'll tell you all about it as
a rest from my summer labors. I determined
to devote a couple of the autumn months to
a jaunt Westward. I did so. Rifle in hand,
I had spent a considerable portion of the fall
of 1856 on the prairies; I had hob-nobbed
with Indians until I could give a Comauchee
war-whoop like a native ; drank "hair-trigger"
liquid lightning with the trappers until they
agreed I was entitled to vote, and . hot buffalo
from my mustang until it seemed like murder
to kill any more. In fact, I was tired with
sport, and had reached St. Paul on ray journey
East, when who should turn up but my
old friend, Jim Kavanaugh, for years afterwards
a delegate and member of Congress
from the new Western Territories and States,
a born pioneer. The meeting was mutually
cordial, and after exchanging the usual salutatory
compliments, our conversation ended in
my agreeing to accompany him on an expedition
down the Mississippi on the following
day. He was going to look after some land
along the river; knew all the planters worth
knowing, and could promise an amount of
pleasure that would make me feel as happy
as Adam and Eve before they knew anything
about original sin, so he said. This was certainly
a change, and it suited me.
Past St. Louis, past Memphis, past all the
pretty islands that have doubtless once been
in a state of solution ; past great bends and
bluffs, against which the Father of Waters
had written the wrinkles of his age; past
great plantations where thousands of acres,
flecked with the snow of Southern summer,
foretold the wealth that would, in a few
months, pour into the coffers of the successful
cottou planter, until at last we reached Helena,
Arkansas. This was my friend's destination?a
quiet, inconsiderable frontier town at
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chants landed supplies. Our traps had not
been at the hotel more than an hour, when who
should make his appearance at the hotel but
j Col. "NYade Hampton?like ourselves, a temporary
sojourner, he having come up for the
I nonce on an errand from his plantation several
miles below. To describe the man is scarcely
j necessary, for pen and ink descriptions, as he
has appeared in the character of the leader of
the Confederate cavalry in the late uncivil
war, have made his person familiar to almost
every reader of every newspaper in the country.
At that time, however, he was the plain
Southern planter, a perfect type of his class,
and never a better exemplification of their
hospitable characteristics than when, finding
us to be gentlemei of some culture (?) he
pressed us to accompany him on his return
homeward and partake of such pleasure as
his place afforded. I remember that, among
other things, he proposed "a bear hunt," and
I, fool-like, jumped at the idea like a schoolboy.
But I won't anticipate.
Have you ever been on a Southern plantation
in old times, before the decree was promulgated
as a part of our modern declaration of
independence, that a white man is as good as
a nigger, and witnessed the working of the
vast social machine? If not, let me tell you
the story in a few words. Here are 980 slaves,
the property of one person. We land from the
steamboat soon after they have finished their
resneotive tasks for the dav. and as we pass
through the little village which they constitute
there is not a man, woman or child who does
not come rushing from his cabin to bow or
curtesy, "How 'dy, Moss' Wade," with all the
enthusiasm of unadulterated affection. The
mansion itself sets back from the river, on
high ground, and as we approach there are a
score or more of hunting dogs, of various
breeds, that gather from their sleeping spot3
to give us welcome. The house servants, stable
boys, garden and field hands mingle with
the quadrupeds, and there is a wagging of
tongues and a wagging of tails that unmistakably
attest the earnestness of the welcome I
that is accorded to "Moss' Wade and he
fren'." Externally the house seems made of j
piazzas and pillars, internally you migni
imagine you were in a palace, where art had
brought its contributions of books, pictures
and sculpture to make home beautiful.
A night's rest on the downiest of beds; a
dawn broken by the appearance of a body
servant with a cup of hot coffee, while we
were yet on our backs, followed by a plate of
fresh oranges and figs, and we were refreshingly
prepared for dress. A breakfast on game
and the usual luxuries of plantation life, for i
which, by the way, an appetite had been pre- j
pared by an old-fashioned infusion of "peach j
and honey"?what planter's house is complete |
without it ??and we were ready to take horses ,
at the door for our hunt.
We were to go some ten or twelve miles
into the cane-brake, and to spend the night.
Three or four negroes, old attendants of the
Colonel in these hunting expeditions, followed
with the dogs and provisions for the trip, j
Ah ! it was an occasion not to be forgotten ;;
and it comes back to me now, albeit nearly a
generation of years have swept by, crowded
by grander incidents of life, as fresh and sharp |
cut as if it were a picture 01 yesterday, me
balmy air, that gave tone to every nerve and j
luxury to every sense ; the rich low-land i
growth, sending forth from jessamine and
magnolia the perfume for which my old wife I
used to pay 31.50 a bottle, and be satisfied
with a third-rate imitation ; the stately steps
of our blooded horses, as we now and then
broke into a gentle canter; the coursing of,
the dogs, who, free from leash, roamed;
through the woods at will, stirring up the
smaller game, and making the neighborhood
? i 11. ,i ?ii 1
musical with their giau notes ; tne jony cacninations
of the old time servants, who, while
not forgetful of the homage they owed their
master, still enjoyed a freedom from restraint j
and an equality with him that would have '
made an abolitionist look in wonderment on
the spectacle. These and a thousand other j
details come back to me with a power that >
sends a gush of young blood to every micro- j
scopic extremity of my sanguineous system.!
We reached our hunting ground about two j
o'clock in the day, lunched, loaded our rides,'
and in an hour more were ready to "take to j
the bush."
"Now," said the Colonel, "if you are not i
familiar with the bear, be careful. Don't!
take him into close quarters. Put a ball |
through his heart before he can reach you j
with his paw ; but if you fail to do this, stand
not on the order of your going?leave! And,!
by the way," he added, "whatever you do,
save the dogs."
I knew as much about bear-hunting as I did j
about elephants ; had seen the-beast tame in
menagfcries, and once or twice encountered a
i live one; but no rifle-shot of mine had ever
! yet penetrated the shaggy coat of a Bruin, and
I my ambition was on edge to be gratified. Be
sides, I had come from "the Plains," and felt
j big with the reputation which all fledglings
j innately enjoy who have knocked down a dozj
en or twenty buffalo. Well, we separated
; and got to work, I taking the stand which
1 the Colonel had assigned to me, to await his
: movements and those of the dogs, who were
to drive up the game while he made a circuit.
, Whither he went or what he did, I have no
knowledge. I only remember that for nearly
' two hours I waited patiently, listening to ev1
ery sound, trembling with expectation, and
; brave down to the pulp of my index finger,
| that rested on the trigger of my trusty rifle,
j In fact, 1 had begun to grow dreamy, and my
j thoughts were waudering among the scenes of
i home-life far eastward. Suddenly, there was
: a long halloo?a shot, and then another. The
| dogs were baying, and evidently in full pur|
suit of game. What it was, whether of deer
i or bear, of course, I had no means of knowing;
' but instinctively I felt that it was coming
toward the little branch whereon I had been
stationed. It was a question of less than five
minutes, but in that interval I enjoyed the
keen zest of a sportsman's expectation. I-had
it settled in my mind where I was to send my
rifle-ball, where I would bleed my trophy
when down, and what I would do in various
! triumphant contingencies that were pictured
I in my mind. But, alas! the schemes of men
i aft gang agley." Bruin?for it was a fullsized
beast of that nomenclature?made his
appearance with a rush, tearing through the
cane-brake, a hound hanging to one ear, and
the pack close on his heels. I raised my rifle
and fired, and have long been satisfied that
the bullet sped at least fifteen feet above its
mark. At any rate, it didn't hit him, while
the sound of the discharge served to draw his
attention to a new and unexpected adversary,
and that was your humble servant. Despite
the fact that he carried the weight of a dog
and a bullet from the gun of Gen. Hampton,
he turned his blood-red eyes on me, and with
an ugly expression around his mouth, which I
regarded at the time as physiognomically dangerous,
made directly for the position I occupied.
At the same instant, a brace of hounds,
God bless era! dashing through the cane with
a glad yelp and a bound, seized the bear, one
j by the haunches and another by the flank.
! The digression saved me. I had no other re1
source than to take to a tree or the bush. I
never was good at climbing, and chose the
latter, plunging pell-mell into ,tbe cane, with
an impetus like unto that of a demoralized
locomotive. Fortunately, I struck a path?
one of those narrow openings which are sometimes
worn on the Mississippi bottoms by animals
making their way to water. But, horror
of horrors! I had not proceeded fifty yards
I before I heard close behind the sound of the
! pursuing bear. Frantic with the pain of the
chawing bites every instant penetrating his i
flesh, and unable to shake off the faithful
dogs, Bruin liad doubtless taken one of his old
routes, and instinctively hoped to brush or
shake his tormentors off in the thick undergrowth.
On he caue?closer and closer?the
hrittlp rppds oracklinor under his feet: the
hounds giving their short, sharp, ugly yelps,
and I dashing forward as best I could through
the almost impenetrable mass. It seemed as
if I could feel the hot breath of the brute upon
my back, and I realized, as only a man in
such an emergency can do, that if once he
laid his claws upon me, I was a dead man.
My knife was already drawn. Life seemed to
hang but by a thread, and I was prepared to
do battle over" that thin tie while there was a
muscle left to put forth its strength.
Yet stay! Suddenly?in less time than I
can describe it?there was a crashing of reeds
in front of me, In an instant more, General
Hampton, hot and flushed with pursuit, his
clothes torn, and his fine face lighted up with
that keen, bold expression which I can fancy j
illuminated it on many another occasion in
the hour of danger afterwards, stood face to
face with me. It was but a second. He took
in the situation at a glance. Like myself, he
could almost feel the presence of the bear
now twenty steps behind. Seizing me by the
breast, he pushed me back into the wilderness
of cares perhaps three or four feet?at any
rate, out of the narrow path?and exclaimed,
as I fell backward, "Stay there, as you value
your life. Don't move an inch!" At the
same moment, darting forward, he dropped
on his knee, and cocking his rifle, waited. I
can't describe the interval,Jt was so short;
but it seemed as if before 1 could gasp, the
bear was on him. He fired, coolly and steadily,
as if he were shooting at ducks. The
bear gave a groan, but the pace was unslacked.
He dashed on, up to the very muzzle of the
remaining gun barrel. The General was in
the act of pulling the trigger when a cane
slipping from under his feet, flew upward,
like a spring, and striking the weapon, the
gun was discharged high in the air. In the
! twinkling of an eye the General was on the
I ground, struck down by the fore paw of the
1 enraged brute, but knife in hand, and as codI
as if promenading his own piazza. I sprang
forward to his assistance, but he shouted to
me to stand back. He was lying almost at
full length with the bear, while the latter was
being torn and distracted by the dogs, now in
full force, and doubly frantic, seeing their
! master in his power. It was but the work of j
a moment, but I shouldn't forget the scene in !
| a month of centuries. The General's right
arm and knife were under the animal, but
with a motion quick as a flash, he threw the
other arm over the body, and clutching the
| knife, drove it deep into the heart of the brute.
There was a spasmodic stroke of the paw in [
the direction of the stroke of the blade, for a !
bear always strikes out in the direction from j
whence it expediences pain?a fact, by the
way, which saved the face and body of the
General?and after a short convulsive spasm,
I the monster lay dead. And that is all. The j
dogs, with their jaws all bloody, were called j
ott', save one, who Jay in the brake panting in
its death agony from wounds it had received.
The General recovered his feet without a
scratch ; gathered his gun, wiped the bloody
knife in the dark fur; sheathed it in an every
day sort of fashion ; the negroes came up, and
after extravagantly pouring forth their congratulations
with true Ethiopian enthusiasm, j
secured the carcass, and the whole party re-}
united around the camp fire at night fall, well j
satisfied with the adventures of the day.
We killed another bear the next morning, i
shot four or five deer, and two of the negroes !
got a fox. As for your humble servant, he J
was satiated with this kind of sport. As a !
faithful chronicler, I am bound to say that 11
was scared all the way through, from my os |
Jrontis to asiralagvs, and since that time have
respectfully declined all invitations to meet a
bear on his native heather. In less than sixty
days after the events I have recorded, I commenced
to use hair dye, and grew prematurely
bald. I have remained "fiare-footed on top j
of my head" ever since, and whenever I want i
to tell my grand-children an old-fashioned
story to make their blood curdle and give
them a first-class night-mare, I point to my
denuded cranium and recount my adventures
with Gen. Wade Hampton and that four-footed
quadruped of the wilderness.
Greybeard.
? ?
tfST Look on the bright side. It is the right
side. The times may be hard, but it will j
make them no easier to wear a gloomy and !
sad countenance. It is the sunshine, and not j
I the cloud that makes the flower. The sky is !
blue teu times where it is black once. You
have troubles, so have others. None are free
from them. Trouble gives tone and sinew to
life?fortitude and courage to man. That |
| would he a dull sea, and the sailor would j
I never get skill, where there was nothing to '
i disturb the surface of the ocean. What
; though things look a little dark, the lane will
(turn, and night will end in a broad day.
i There is more virtue in one sunbeam than in
| a whole hemisphere of clouds and gloom.
A STORY ABOUT HONESTY.
One evening, a poor man and his sou, a little
boy, sat by the wayside, near the gate of
an old town in Germany. The father took a
loaf of bread which he had bought in town
j and broke it, and gave half to his son.
"Not so, father,"said the boy; "I shall not
eat until after you. You have been working
I all day, for small wages, to support me, and
j you must be very hungry. I shall wait until
; you are done."
"You speak kindly, my son," replied the
' father. "Your love to me does me more good
; than my food; and those eyes of yours remind"
I me of your dear mother, who has left us, and
I told you to love me as she used to do; and, in!
deed, ray boy, you have been a great strength
| and support to me. But now I have eaten
i the first morsel to please you ; it is your turn
now to eat."
"Thank you, father, but break this piece in
two and take a little more; you see the loaf
is not large, and you require more than I do."
"I shall divide the loaf for you, my boy,
but eat'it I shall not. I have abundance;
and let us thank God for his goodness in giv;
ing us what is better still, cheerful and contenI
ted hearts. He who gave us the living bread
I to nourish our immortal souls, shall He not
| give us all other food, which is necessary to
! support our mortal bodies?"
The father and son thanked God, and they
began to cut the loaf, to begin their frugal
meal. But as they cut one portion of the
loaf, there fell out several large pieces of gold
of great value. The little boy gave a shout
of joy, and was springing forward to grasp
the unexpected treasures, when he was pulled
back by his father.
"My son, my son!" he cried, "do not touch
that money; it is not ours."
"But whose is it, father, if it is not ours ?"
"I know not as to whom it belongs, but
j probably it was put thereby the baker throjgh
| some mistake. We must inquire. Run?"
| "But, father," interrupted the boy, "you
are poor and needy, and you have bought the
| loaf, and then the baker may tell a lie, and?"
"I will not listen to you, my boy ; I bought
! the loaf, but I did not buy the gold in it. If
the baker sent it to me in ignorance, I shall
| not be so dishonest as to take advantage of
him; remember Him who told us tc do unto
others as we would have others do to U9. The
baker may possibly cheat us ; I am poor, but
that is no sin. If we share the poverty of
j Jesus, God's own Son, oh ! let us share His
good and His trust in God. We may never
j be rich, but we may always be honest. We
may die in starvation, but God's will be done,
i should we die in doing it. Ye9, my boy, trust
in God, and walk in his ways, and you shall
1 -"4 A~ wtin tKo Ka_
| never ue put lu suuuic. nun, iuu tv vl*\, *>?
ker, and bring him here, and I will watch the
gold until he comes."
So the boy ran after the baker.
"Brother workman," said the old man, "you
have made some mistake, and almost lost
your money," and he showed the baker the
gold and told how it had been found. "Is it
thine?" asked the father. "If it is take it
away."
"My father, baker, 13 very poor, and?"
"Silence, my child ; put me not to shame
by thy complaints. I am glad we have saved
the man from losing his money."
The baker had been gazing alternately at
the honest father and eager boy, the gold lay
glittering on the green turf. "Thou art indeed,
an honest fellow," said the baker; "and
my neighbor, David, the fiax dresser, spoke
the truth when he said thou wert the most
honest man in town. "Now, I shall tell thee
about the gold. A stranger came to my shop
three days ago, and gave me that loaf and
told me to sell it cheaply, to give it to the
most honest poor man whom I knew in the
niftr T tnl/1 Flntrirl trt opml t.hpft t.n fflfi fl.q ft
customer this morning. As thou ^ouldst
not take the loaf for nothing, I sold it to thee,
as thou knowest, for the last penny in thy
purse; and the loaf with all its treasure?and
certainly it is not small?is thine and God
grant thee a blessing with it!"
The poor man bent his head to the ground,
while tears fell from his eyes. His boy ran
and put his arms around his neck, and said:
"I shall always, like you, my father, trust
in God, and do what is right; for I am sure
it will never put us to shame."
"THREE KEERD MONKEY."
^ l 1 1 1 xl K!i rpi
UflDaaa um nas naa anomer exploit. j.iie
Omaha Dispatch says: A few months ago,
as is well known by several gentlemen, Bill offered
a certain railroad one thousand dollars
a month for the privilege of "working trains"
in the three card raonte business. He offered
to give bonds to a large amount that he
wouldn't take a dollar from anybody but
preachers. Of course, this was charged to
Bill's prejudice against the clergy, but that j
he meant what he said was evidenced by his j
pulling out a thousand dollars in greenbacks, i
and insisting upon placing it in the hands of any I
one the road might name. It is useless to say i
he was refused. It was not believed that he I
ever won a dollar of a preacher, but Bill has
recently demonstrated his success in that line.
A day or two since he boarded a Union Pacific
train in Omaha. In a few minutes he
started through the train to see what he might
find, and, at last, sat down along side a minister
bound for California on a pleasure excursion.
Bill had a farm near Pappillion, so
he said, and had just been to Chicago and sold
thirty-seven hundred dollar's wortn of cattle.
After getting on good terms the minister and
Bill were interrupted by a stranger passing
through the car and dropping several playing
cards on the floor just in front of them. Bill
picked them up and commenced toying with
them. The minister deprecated their introduction
into the world. Bill then went on
telling him how some fellows had "took him
in or the keers" several days before on a game
they called "three keerd monkey," and gave
a half-way explanation of the "how of it."
Ju^then a beardless boy came in, and after
listening some time to Bill's story, said:
"Now look ahere, old man ; I can guess them j
cards." Bill let him try several times, and |
sure enough, the boy never missed once, and :
lost no opportunity to intimate against Bill's j
brains. The latter at last got mad, and offer-1
ed to bet his watch against the boy's. The j
boy jumped at the chance and lost his watch. I
Bill then went to another car to get rid or tne j
boy, who was boo-hooing at a terrible rate !
about that watch being given to him by his '
dying father, and he must have it back again i
or he could never face his dear old mother I
agaiu. The minister pacified him, and so far j
gained his confidence that he explained how !
he had made a mistake, and if he just had
some more money he would win the watch
back. He explained it so perfectly to the
minister, that the latter told him he had some I
gold and would risk it if the boy would do the |
betting. The young innocent agreed, and
went into another car after Canada Bill who
came in, but didn't want to bet. He was a
plain, honest farmer, and not a gambler. But i
the preacher showed him how unjust it was :
not to give the boy a chance for his watch, and j
Bill consented. Soon two hundred and fifty ;
dollars of the minister's gold was gone. Papio, I
shouted the brakeman and Bill threw down
the keerds" and told his antagonists that he
lived there and must get off and "go hum."
The boy became so desperate at this that he
was determined to get off there too and follow
the old farmer home and get that watch back.
It is needless to say that the "Kid" was in
the game. Such is the world. Day after day
this three card monte game is talked about
in the newspapers, but all to no purpose. One
fool falls; and his place is immediately filled
by another.
A Sea Fight on the Stage.?-A French
correspondent of the Orchestra gives some de'
tails of the working of the wonderful ship
scene in the Galete drama of "La File de la
Nuit." We are told the stage is entirely
cleared, and three long lines of rails are laid
down?one coming straight down from the
back towards the footlights, and another from
I the left wing, while the last traverses the stage
I at the first grooves. The big vessel, mounted
! complete upon a platform furnished with
i rollers, remains till wanted at the extreme
back of the stage, and is pushed down the
rails and turned to the left ready to enter.
The painted cloth, representing the ocean, is
then laid down, and the first row of "waves"
take their place. They are little boys, who,
armed with semi-circular canes, creep under
the canvas, and, pushing their covering, imitate
the movement of the sea. There are
fifty of these useful aids in all; the second
row being composed of full grown men on
their knees, and the last and most stormy undulations
of the main are formed by the movements
of auxiliaries who stand erect The
electric light plays upon the tops of the waves,
and the brig appears. It soon reaches the
middle of the scene, where a turntable is
fixed, supported by the robust shoulders of
twenty-five men, who, by moviDg up and down
in measure, imitate the rolling and pitching
of a ship in a gale of wind. The attacking
boats now come along the horizontal Hae of
rails, and the vessel is boarded and taken
after a hot hand-to-hand fight. When the
piece was first produced some years ego Mr.
Fechter was playing in Paris, and his presence
averted a contretemps. The cloth representing
the sea gave way in one part, and the
head and bust of one of the "waves," who,
for the sake of coolness, had divested himself
of his upper garments, came through, and remained
fully exposed to the gaze of the audience.
Mr. Fechter, who represented the
pirate captain, and was supposed to command
I on deck, did not lose his presence of mind, Wut
| immediately cried out, "A man overboard!"
| Aided by the crew the amazed super was
' hauled on board, amid the applause of the
gratified spectators, who fancied that this rescue
from a watery grave formed part of the
play.
i A Cheerful Home.?A single word may
disquiet an entire family for a whole day.
One surly glance casts a gloom over the household,
while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine,
' * ' J--1 1. ?J
may ngnt up ine uar&wu auu ncanui uvui?,
Like unexpected flowers which spring up
along our path, full of 'freshness, fragrance
and beauty, so the kind words and gentle acts
and sweet dispositions make glad the home
where peace and blessings dwell. No matter
bow humble the abode, if it be thus garnished
with grace and sweetness, with kindness and
smiles, the heart will turn lovingly toward it
from all the tumults of the world, and home,
if it be ever so homely, will be the dearest
spot beneath the circuit of the sun.
And the influences of home perpetuate
themselves. The gentle grace of the mother
lives in her daughters long after her head is
pillowed in the dust of earth ; and fatherly
kindness finds its echo in the nobility and
courtesy of sons who come to wear his mantle.
* * ' ?v ?i - ? *1 1 A
and till ins piace; wmm, uu iue uwci UOUUy
from an unhappy, misgoverned and disordered
home go forth persons who shall make other
homes miserable, and perpetuate the sourn&s
and sadness, the contentions and strifes and
railings which have made their own early
lives so wretched and distorted.
Toward the cheerful ho ,e the children
gather "as clouds and as doves to their windows
while from the home which is the
abode of discontent and strife and trouble,
they fly forth as vultures to rend their prey.
The class of men that disturb and disorder
and distress the world are not those born and
nurtured amid the hallowed influences of
Christian homes, but rather those whose early
life has been a scene of trouble and vexation,
who have started wrong in the pilgrimage,
A il
and whose course is one or disaster to tnemselves
and trouble to those around them.
Be Happy Now.?How old are you?
Twenty-five? Thirty? Are you happy today
? Were you happy yesterday ? Are you
generally ? If so, you have reason to judge
that you will be happy by-and-by. Are you
so busy that you have no time to be happy?
and are you going to be happy when you are
old, and you have not so much to do ? No
you will not. You now have a specimen of
what you will be when you are old. Look in
the face of to-day. That is about the average.
That will tell you what you are going to be.
What you are carrying along with you is what
you will have by-and-by. If you are so conducting
yourself that you have peace with
God. and with your fellow-men, and with your
faculties; if every day you insist that duty
shall make you happy, and you take as much
time as is needful for the culture of your social
faculties, you will not be exhausting life, and
it will be continually replenished. But if you
are saving everything up till you get to be an
old man, habit will stand like a tyrant, and
say, "You would not enjoy yourself before,
and you shall not now." How many men
there are who have ground and ground to
make money, that they might be happy byand-by,
but who, when they got to be fifty or
sixty years old, bad used up all the enjoyable
nerve that was in them. During their
early life they carried toil and economy, and
frugality to the excess of stinginess, and when
the time came that they expected joy, there
was no joy for them.
A Caution to "Wives.?Falsehood is one
of the gravest of crimes in the terrible list .
of human delinquencies, for not only does it
corrupt and ultimately destroy the individual,
Unt /Uflnooo arnnnH n nnvinns vannr that in
jures all who come within the range of its destructive
qualities, In a woman it is so repulsive,
that a wife who outrages this law of
her nature debases her mind, destroys her
husband's confidence in her integrity, and in
time becomes so contemptible in his eyes, that
his affection totally disappears. "Can the
husband," inquires a distinguished authoress,
"ever look again with perfect satisfaction on
the countenance of his wife after the first
falsehood has polluted her lips ? Alas! no;
a barrier has been broken down, and the
waves of sin and sorrow roll in upon their
paradise of domestic enjoyment."
Manners.?Before you bow to a lady in
the street permit her to decide whether you
shall or not, by at least a look of recognition.
"Excuse ray gloves," is an unnecessary
apology, for the glove should not be withdrawn
to shake hands.
When your companion bows to a lady, you
should also bow. When a gentleman bows to
a lfldv in vour corananv. alwavs bow to him
in return.
A visit must be returned in like manner,
even though no intimacy is intended.
A smiling countenance is pleasant, but excess
of laughter should be avoided, especially
when it is possible for any one to suppose himself
derided by it.
VSf* There are two reasons why some people
don't mind their own business. One is that
they have no business, and the other is that
they have uo raiud,