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lewis m. gkist, proprietor.! |nbejicttbcnf Jfamilg ftefnspaper: Jfor % promotion of ijre |JoIitical, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of t|e Soutjj. {terms?$3.00 a tear, in adyance. VOL. 18. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1878. :N~Q.46. Jflcrtcd foctrg. ? BLOWING BUBBLES. As I loitered through the village, I saw children at their play, Blowing bubbies in the sunshine, , From a penny pipe of clay. I had passed them with a greeting, But their gladness charmed me so, That I turned to watch their bubbles, Sailing through the Summer's glow. Though they seemed not half so brilliant As in boyhood I have blown, When the smallest of my bubbles Held a rainbow of its own, Yet my little friends grew merry As each tinted, air-blown toy Floated UDward. and the baby Clappecf its chubby hands for joy. And the girl?her arms outstretching, As if begging them to stay? Said, 'Tm sorry, very sorry, They so quickly fade away!" But her brother looked right manly As he shouted, with delight, "It is easy, very easy, To blow others just as bright!" And he blew with such good fortune That, before his task was done, You might count a score of bubbles Floating gaily in the sun. Then hefr eyes with pleasure sparkled, As the crystal phantoms played, ^ And she quite forgot her sorrow That they each so quickly fade. And she paused where I was resting ^ In thesnadow of a yew, And intones of laughing wonder, cried, "Can't you blow bubbles, too ?" And I knew not how to answer ; So I left them at their play. Blow: ng bubbles in the sunshine, From a penny pipe of clay. lb* jltfltg Mkt. THE WAGERS. Some years ago I took my seat in the dilirranno fmm Marseillca to F . The railway that now connects those cities was not contemplated. There were five passengers in all. Of these one was a short, fat man, with smooth cheeks and a red face. Though plainly dressed, his clothes were very good ; he had a great number of rings on his fingers, and across his waistcoat he wore a thick gold chain which he was careful to let me see was attached to a handsome watch, on the back of which was a m. crest in jewels. There was no doubt he was a rich man, and that I, at all events, might have no doubt of it, he informed me that his income exceeded fifty thousand francs a year, and that he bid fair to double it before five years were gone, so prosperous was his business. I was partly amused and partly disgusted by his loquacity. Why he should have made a confidant of me in particular I don't know, unless it was that I happened to sit next him. Among other bits of information, he gave me to know that this was the first holiday he had indulged himself with for three years. "Where do you get out?" I inquired. "AtF ," said he. "But why do you go so far from Marseilles for a holiday ?" 1 asked, "Monsieur," he answered, "I am going to get married." "The deuce 1" I exclaimed, laughing; "and you call that taking a holiday?" "Why," said he, "that would depend. If I were going to marry an ugly woman, now, I should call this tour by another name. But, my friend, the lady I am engaged to is an angel,-sir; she might have sat for one of Mahomet's houris. Her eyes?" Here he went off into a long account of his * mistress' perfections, decorating his fluent description with all manner of shrugs, grimaces, and gesticulations. "You are a very fortunate man, sir," said I, "and I wish you joy." "Yes," you may wish the lady joy, too, and congratulate her as well; for give me leave to say it is not every woman who has the luck to meet with such a husband, who unites to the splendors of wealth the accomplishments of genius and the grace of courage." I smothered a laugh. "So you have genius and courage as well as money." He nodded vehemently. "Without boasting," said he, "I think I may pride myself on being possessed of all qualities that recommend a man to the ladies." "So long as they are sufficient to recomraeud you to the lady of your choice, you should be satisfied." "They should be sufficient," he replied; "and in my own mind I am persuaded that they are sufficient; but, though the young lady is as beautiful as a houri, I regret to say she * *1 _ X iV __ _ is rather perverse in her taste, so mat ior a long time I could hardly make any headway in her affections. Indeea, she was weakminded enough to avow a preference for a cousin of here, a young lieutenant?a beggar, sir, and a mighty impudent dog to boot. What she could 6ee in him I could never tell. I'll allow that his nose is straight, his eyes good, and his teeth white and regular, but what is the use of these things in a man without money ?" "To be sure," said I drowsily, for the day was warm, and the tendency to sleep was aggravated by my droning companion. "I'll be perfecdy frank with you," he continued, "and co~*ess that I don't think she would ever have accepted me, had it not been for her father, who is a poor man, and is very eager to have me for a son-in-law, thinking I shall pay off his debts. I wish he may get it. I've allowed him to think anything he likes, for his thinking costs me nothing, and being anxious to wed the girl, who I declare to you is beautiful?" And here he went off again into another 1 j lULIg ucavil^uuu, 1UHUU UC HUCIUU^ gailllciivu, as before, with shrugs and grimaces. "Then you don't care about her love?" said I, dreamily. r "Not a fig," he answered?"not a fig. I only want her. At ray time of life, sir, we know the hypocrisy of love?how easily it is counterfeited. I have a ring at home, with a paste stone in it. I declare to you, it flashes like a diamond, and is thought as costly as the best of the real stones I wear. So with love. The counterfeit passes for the real ninety-nine times in the hundred, and though I'll own I would rather have the real, if I can't get J it I should be just as well satisfied with the j sham." He then branched off into some very cyn- j ical remark on the nature of love, which, however, I am ashamed to say, I do not remember, as I fell sound asleep very shortly after he had commenced them. I was awakened by the diligence stopping , at the Golden Lion inn, in the principal street I of F . The fat, red-faced babbler, who it seems j had been awake during the whole journey, and had been boring a mild looking gentleman, who sat opposite him when he had found j me asleep, got out, and I followed him. He pulled out his watch, which sparkled most gorgeously as it took the sun's rays, and exclaimed, turning to me? "A quarter to four, sir. Half an hour after time." "I'll bet you that it's not," said a gentleman, with a very fierce moustache, who stood smoking a cigar before the door of the low roofed apartment. "I should now," retorted the little red-faced man, turning sharply upon him, "for this is one of Leroy's best watches. It cost two thousand francs." "I'll bet you ten louis that it's not one of >? Leroy's watches," said the moustached smoker coolly. The red-faced man shrugged his shoulders, and went into the travelers' room, saying to me? "Don't dine here. "We can do better at the cafe." "I'll wager you the value of the watch that the watch is worth nothing, and if you win you receive what you will not find it worth your while to take," said the gentleman with the moustache, following us. "I did not address my remarks to you, sir." "I'll bet you that you did," said the other^ with the most provoking coolness. The little man, amazed by this persecution, touched his forehead to signify that the gentleman with the moustache was mad. "I'll bet you don't prove that I'm mad," said the other. There was a pause. They looked like two dogs waiting to be slipped for a fight. "Upon my word," said the red-faced man, "I know nothing of this fellow. He is a most impudent rascal, whoever he is; and I have a good mind to make him march off." "I'll make you any bet you like you don't make me march off," exclaimed the other, pulling his moustache, "and I'll further bet anything you like that I make you take the road back to Paris, and that, too, without any delay." The little man, whose face was now a deep crimson with rage, blurted out? "You won't find that a very easy matter, for I came here to get married." "One hundred Napoleons you do not marry !" "Sir, you are an impertinent scoundrel, and I will pull your nose." "I'll make you any bet you like you lie !" The little man stamped with rage.. He glared around him for some moments in silence, then exclaimed:? "Do you want me to shoot you ?" "I'll bet you don't shoot me." "Where can we procure pistols ?" exclaimed the red-faced man, breathing very short. "The landlord will accommodate us," answered the other. He hurried into the house and reappeared with a box containing a brace of pistols. I had hitherto treated the affair as a joke, laughing in my sleeve at the red-faced man's rage, and the other's cool insolence. But I thought it was time now to interpose. "Gentlemen." But the raoustached man turned upon me with a frown. "I believe this gentleman to be a coward, sir," said he, "and if you interfere, I shall con ~fn nrioitont liim frnm uiuuc jruu tuc uuuo^mijg iu jitbivuu ....... ou.u proving himself a coward." I said no more, but followed the two men to a lonely spot in the park, where the cigar hero was saluted by an officer of the garrison, who expressed & willingness to become his second. Having loaded the pistols, we placed the meu. It was agreed I should give the signal, which was to throw a five-franc piece into the air. My position was a peculiarly disagreeable one. Up to the last moment I had believed that the whole business was only a rather cruel, practical joke on the part of the man with the moustache, and as my curiosity was excited to follow this adventure to its conclusion, I had volunteered to be the red-faced man's Becond; but it seemed now that one or the other, or both, must be killed. "Sir," said the man with the cigar, turning to rae, "I believe Master Jacques to be an honest man; but though I can vouch for his wine, I can't vouch for his pistols. Before that gentleman and I make a target of one another, be so good as to throw that five-franc piece in the air, to see how my pistol carries." I did as he desired, and tossed the money about seven yards high. I heard the report of a pistol, and the piece of money fell indented. "Bet," said the man with the moustache, "that I pierce that leaf vibrating at the extremity of yonder bough." And before the other could answer, the trigger was pulled and the leaf was pierced. "Bet," continued the man, with the most ridiculous coolness, "that I shoot you clean through the pupil of the left eye, and lay you dead, and that you miss ma" The other was as white as a ghost. "I believe you," he said, trembling from head to foot, and throwing his pistol down. "I guess your motives and admire your stratagem, and, as I am not prepared to die, I shall take the road back again to Marseilles." In fact, we saw him deposit himself in the imperiale of the diligence. I turned to the raoustached gentleman for an explanation. He invited me to take a glass of wine with him in the travelers' room, and with great good humor proceeded to solve the enigma. He was a friend of the young lieutenant, and famous as the most deadly shot in France. He had received a letter the day before from his friend, begging him to come to F and help to carry out a ruse which he trusted would enable him him to marry the girl he was passionately in love with. The moustached gentleman complied, left Paris, and reached F in time to receive from his friend's lips particulars of the strat * 1 11 A _ J agem he and the young gin naa coucerieu between them. That stratagem was perfectly successful. The little red-faced man, as I afterward heard, on his reaching Marseilles, wrote to the father of his intended bride, apologizing for not having been able to keep his promise to go down to them. You may believe he took good care not to inform the father of the real reason that had prevented him from paying his devoirs to his betrothed. The red-faced man, however, had no intention of breaking off his engagement, until he was accosted one morning in the streets of Marseilles by the moustached gentleman, who asked if he still persisted in his intention to marry the young lady. "Certainly," was the reply. "Then," said the other, "if you want to reach her hand you will have to mount first on my dead body, and, secondly, on the dead body of the lieutenant. Are you prepared to scale these fortresses!" "Certainly not." "Then go home; write to the young lady's father that circumstances compel you to abandon your promise to wed her. I shall know by the day after to-morrow if that letter has been written. If yes, I will be your friend, and help you, as I have helped the lieutenant, in any honorable love scheme you may choose to enter upon ; if not, be prepared to meet me in the evening." The letter was written, and six months after ' the young lady was married to the lieutenant. ? ? . 1 Action is Man's Salvation.?Men who ninn irrma in tLo fii-d iipo tkn ones to go crazy. It is the man of voluntary or compelled leisure, who mopes and pines and thinks himself into the mad house or the j grave. Motion is all nature's law. Action is I man's salvation, physical and mental; and j yet nine out of ten are wistfully looking for| ward to the coveted hour when they shall ! have leisure to do nothing?the very siren i that has lured to death many a "successful" | man. He only is truly wise who lays himself I out to work till life's latest hour, and that is ! the man who will live the longest, and will j live to most purpose. j It has been shrewdly remarked that ad; vertising is the oil which wise merchants put ! into their lamps and foolish ones neglect to I use. AFTER MANY DATS. "There, Mary?now, don't you think I deserve to be called a good husband ?" said the young man, smiling, as he dropped into the lady's hand half a dozen gold pieces. "Yes, you are, Edward, the very best husband in the world." "Thank you. And now I want you, dear, to have the mantle by New Year's Day. I'm anxious to see how you will look in it." "But, Edward, you know, we are not rich i people, and it really seems a piece of extravagance forme to give thirty dollars for a cloak." "No, it is not, either. You deserve the j mantle, Mary, and I've set my mind upon you having it." It was evident the lady was predisposed to conviction. She made no further attempt to refute her husband's arguments, and her small fingers closed over the gold pieces. Edward and Mary Clark were the husband and wife of a year. He was a book-keeper in a large establishment with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars. #*# ** Mrs. Clark came into the sitting-room suddenly, and the girl lifted her head, and then turned it away quickly; but not until the first glance told the lady that the fair face was swollen and stained with tears. Janet Hill was a seamstress whom Mrs. Clark had occasionally employed for the last six months. "Won't you tell me what is troubling you, Janet ?" "Nothing that anybody can help," answered the young girl, trying still to avert her face. "But, perhaps, I can. At any rate, it does, us good sometimes to confide our sorrows to a friend." And so, with kind words and half-caressing movements of the little hand laid on the scamstress' arm, Mrs. Clark drew from her lips her sad story. She was an orphan, supporting herself by her daily labors ; and she had one brother, just sixteen, three years her junior. He had been for sometime a kind of under-clerk in a large wholesale establishment, where he had seriously injured himself in the summer by lifting some heavy bales of goods; and, at last a daugerous fever set in, which had finally left him in so exhausted a state that the doctor had little or no hope of his recovery. "And to think, I shall never see him again, Mrs. Clark," cried the poor girl, with a fresh burst of tears. "To think he must die away there among strangers, in the hospital, with no loving face to bend over him in his last hours! 0, George, my darling, bright-faced brother George 1" And here she broke down in a storm of sobs and tears. "Poor child, poor child !" murmured Mrs. Clark. "How much would it cost for you to goto your brother, and return ?" she asked. " A K/vnf fViirfv dnllara T Viaup nnh nn mufih money in the world. You see, it's four hundred miles off." A thought passed quickly through Mrs. Clark's mind. She stood still a few moments, her blue eye fixed in meditation. At last she said kindly: "Well, my child, try and bear up bravely, and we will see what can be done for you and the warm, cheerful tones comforted the sad heart of the girl. The lady went up-stairs and took the pieces out of her portemonnie. There was a brief, sharp struggle in her mind. "Some how, I've set my heart upon this mantle," she thought, "and Edward will be disappointed. I was going out to select it this very afternoon. But then there's that dying boy lying theft with strange faces all about him, and longing, as the hours pass by, for a sight of the sister who loves him ; and would not this thought haunt me every time I put on my new cloak ? After all, my old cloth mantle is not so bad; and it can be turned. And I'm sure I can bring Edward over to my way of thinking. No, I must go without the mantle this timeand she closed the portemonnie resolutely, and went down stairs. "Janet, put up your work this moment; there is no time to be lost. Here is the money. Take it and go to your brother." The girl lifted her eyes a moment, almost in bewilderment, to the lady, and then, as she comprehended the truth, a cry of such joy broke from her lips that its memory never faded from the heart, through all the afteryears of Mrs. Clark's life. ?*?* "George! George!" The words leaped from her lips, as the sister sprang forward to the low bed where the youth lay. He opened his large eyes suddenly?a flush passed over his pallid face. He stretched out his arms. "0, Janet! Janet! I have prayed Crvt. iVio cirrkf nf T7rvll A11PO mnrP. hpfhrfi T wuu u,6"" ? J ? died." "His pulse is stronger than it has been for two weeks, and his face has a better hue," said the doctor next morning, as he made his morning visit through the wards of the hopital. "His sister came yesterday and watched with him," answered the attendant nurse, glancing at the young girl, who hung breathless over the sleeping invalid. "Ah ! that explains it. I'm not'certain but that young man has power enough to recover, if he could have the care and tenderness, for the next two months, which love alone can furnish." How Janet's heart leaped at the blessed words ! That very morning she had an interview with her brother's employers. They had been careless, but not intentionally unkind, and the girl's story enlisted their sympathies. In a day or two George was removed to a more quiet, comfortable private home, and his sister installed herself by his couch, as his nurse and comforter. * Three years have past away. Mrs. Clark sat in her chamber, humming a nursery tune, to which the cradle kept a sort of rhythmic movement. Suddenly the door opened. "Sh?sh," said the young mother, and she lifted her finger with a smiling warning as her husband entered. "There's something for you, Mary. It came by express this afternoon." The lady removed the cover, with eyes filled with wonder, while her husband leaned over her shoulder and watched her movements. A white box disclosed itself, and removing the lid, Mrs. Clark descried a small, elegantly chased hunting watch. She lifted it with a cry of delighted surprise, and touching the spring, the case flew back, and on the inside \i-ofa onffrouod tViooo TOnrfla " To Mrs. Mary Clark; in token of the life she saved!" "0, Edward! it must have come from George and Janet Hill," exclaimed the lady, and the quick tears leaped into her eyes. "You know she's been with him ever since that time; and she wrote me last spring that he had obtained an excellent situation as head clerk in the firm. What an exquisite gift, and how I shall value it, not simply for itself either!" "Well,Mary,you were in the right then; though I'm sorry to say, I was half vexed with you for giving up your mantle." "I've not had one, but I never regretted it." "Nor I, Mary, for I cannot doubt that your act of self-denial saved the young man's life." "It would almost seem so, Edward, and I bless God for it," added his wife, fervently, her eyes filling with tears. The husband drew his arm around his wife, and reverently said : "Blessed by God, Mary, who put it into your heart to do this good deed. You remember who said: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ray brethren, ye have done it unto me.'" IpSttlfawtfttis ftradittg. Correspondence of the Yorkville Enquirer. LETTER FROM "DOWN EAST." Boston, Mass., November 8,1872. Having a day's leisure, and being tired of the turmoil, smoke and dirt of the city, I concluded a few days ago to take a trip down the harbor, And accordingly set out with the intention of seeing everything that was to be seen. I will give you some idea of what one may see du ?1 lintlM1 QOll f/"> Willi Wina. nug a piClWttUt IWW uuuig DU11 iu J, | hara and Plymouth, to which places during the summer and fall seasons, many steamers, freighted with pleasure seekers, run from this city. For a very small amount of "scrip" one can steam in and out between the numerous islands, and enjoy during the summer solstice a cool and refreshing breeze and the most delightful and ever-changing scenery. Among many points of interest in the harbor may be mentioned the light-houses and fortifications. The first fort of note is FORT INDEPENDENCE, On Castle Island, which is said to have been first constructed as early as 1634?just two hundred years before your correspondent made his "first appearance on any stage"?and was the place appointed, in early times, for the confinement of criminals sentenced to hard labor. This fort, as it now appears, is of quite recent construction. Opposite Fort Independence, as we leave the inner harbor, is the still incomplete fortification called "Winthrop," on Governor's Island. It is said that the above named island was granted to Governor Winthrop in 1632, and subsequently became the property of Winthrop's heirs; and judging from the story in vogue in reference to its original cost, it was a very cheap piece of real estate. It is said the Governor was granted the island on condition of paying to the members of the Legislature "one bushel of apples in winter, annually." When entirely completed it will be a very important defense to the harbor. As we proceed farther mn nnrno in oirrVif nf Conrnfo'o Talnnd nn which TV C WV/Ui\> IU Di^uvvt vvvigv u v. ?? --- ?? is situated fort warren, memorable in the history of the late war between the North and South as the prison-house of Messrs. Mason and Slidell, and is the most famous as well as the most important of all the defenses of the city. About two miles from Fort Warren, in an easterly direction, and at the entrance ofthe harbor, is the Barton Light House, of which it is said that during the Revolution was the object of considerable contention, having been destroyed and rebuilt several times. The top of the light-house is ninety-eight feet above the level of the sea, and has a revolving light, which sailors tell me can be seen at a distance of sixteen miles in clear weather. Near Fort Warren, is the "spit," or "bug light," Which is a curious structure. The bottom part is a series of iron pillars fastened in the mplr nllnwintr nn anrfflflfi for the water to beat against, thus entirely preventing its destruc- ] tion by the waves. There is a stationary red | light some thirty-five or forty feet above the level of the ocean, and in clear weather can be seen for a distance of seven or eight miles. The object of the light is to warn mariners of the proximity of the dangers of Harding's ledgf, which is about two miles out at sea. The next light of importance is that on Long Island, the tower of which is about twenty-two feet above the level of the sea. This light is some sixty-eight feet above the tower, (which is painted white) on which is placed a fixed lantern containing nine burners; and on a clear nightcan be seen atthe distance of about fifteen miles. There have been several attempts to make the island a sumraerresort, but whether it will ever be done remains for the future to determine. East of Long Island is a low, rocky island, on which stands a curiously Bhaped monument, constructed of stone, about twelve feet high, and forty feet square. The stones are fastened together with copper, and on the top of the stone-work stands an octagonal pyramid of wood, some twenty feet in height, and is supposed to be a monument erected in the early days of the colony for the purpose of warning vessels against an approach to the dangerous shoals in this part of the harbor. This island is called "nix's mate," And is said to have derived its name from a story, long in circulation, that the mate of a vessel, of which one Capt. Nix was the commander, was executed on this island for the murder of the latter. As a part of the above tradition it is said that the mate claimed to be innocent of the crime charged against him, and asserted as a proof of it, that the island would be washed away. Whether the prophecy was ever made or not is only a matter of speculation; but one thing is certain, the island, at one time, it is said, contained nearly twelve acres, and now there is only about an acre of shoal and not a vestige of soil. I have only glanced at the harbor and a few of its numerous objects of interest. There are many islands in the harbor, with as many curious shapes, and from this fact many of them have received-strange christenings; for instance, Apple, Spectacle and Half Moon Islands. Some of thern are occupied, but the majority are uninhabitable, though a sail between and around them affords a most agreeable change from the hot bricks and dust of the city in summer. Beyond the harbor is Revere Beach?one of the finest I have ever seen?Lynn and Nahant. The latter is a' peninsula connected with the mainland at j Lynn, by a long, narrow neck, upon which is ! a beautiful beach. Nahant is occupied by J wealthy citizens of Boston, who have erected j in this quiet spot some splendid summer resi- j dences, where, in the midst of their shady ! lawns, gardens and groves, they can live as ' quietly as they wish and view the grandeur of old ocean in a storm without the fear of being wave-tossed, or experiencing that most terrible of all maladies, "sea sicknessor watch, on a clear day, the white sails of arriving aud departing vessels. BOSTON MUSIC HALL, Cplphrftfpd nn aecount of the "ereat organ," which it contains, is one of the grandest public buildings of its class in America, and although erected by private enterprise is a public institution, of which the music-loving portion of this community are justly proud. It is the headquarters of all the great musical entertainments of the city, although often used for other purposes, such as lectures, fairs for charitable purposes, etc. The acoustic properties of the hall are so nearly perfect that it has been said that the interior was "a kind of passive musical instrument, or at least a sound ing board constructed upou theoretical principles." It is one hundred and thirty feet in length, seventy-eight feet in breadth and sixty-five feet high. The architectural beauty of the inside of this hall is magnificent, and the brilliant light shed down from the hundreds j of gas jets encircling the wall above the balI cony, is something, which, to be appreciated, must be seen. There are several fine works | of art in the hall, among which may be raen1 . p * __11_ J i tioned splendid statues 01 Apuuu ?uu jjcc| thoven; the latter, standing in front of the organ, readily attracts the attention of all visitors. But the chief ornament and attraction in this hall is the wonderful organ. This instrument was constructed in Ludwigsburg, Wurtemburg, and was set up and inaugurated some years ago in the presence of an immense audience, and hundreds of thousands of people have since listened to its wonderful strains of melody. This organ is said to contain five thousand four hundred and seventy-four pipes, of which some six hundred and ninety are in the pedal organ ; and has also eighty-four complete registers. Its architecture is very appropriate and beautiful, and only those who I have been inside this wonderful instrument can form any definite idea of the magnificence of the work. The brass pipes that imitate the trumpet are shaped like the trumpet used in orchestras and bands, and are of finely polished brass. There is also a series of flutes made of ebony and rosewood, turned, varnished and shaped like the ordinary flutes and furnished with embouchoirs of brass. This instrument seems to be perfect in all its parts, and is a wonder of mechanical ingenuity and skill. It is said to be the largest organ in the United States, and cost $60,000. Hunkidori. + + REMINESCENCES OF CHARLESTON. Mrs. Petigru Carson contributes to the last issue of Appleton'8 Journal the following pleasant sketch of old St. Michael's and its chime of bells: Very dear to the people of Charleston, South Carolina, is St. Michael's Church in that city, which is said to have been built after a model furnished by Sir Christopher Wren, and copied from St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, London. The likeness to St. Martin's is so strong that no Charlestonian, on coming to London, needs have that church pointed out. The spire of St. Michael's, however, is much the more beautiful. Any one who had seen it would remember the church, with its old-fashioned mahogany pulpit, and great brass chandeliers, and high-back mahogany pews, where the devout might pray, and the careless sleep unseen. But chiefly were the people proud of their bells. There was no such chime in the colony when they were hung, and, after they had changed their tune of God save the King for Yankee Doodle, they never were any bells in New York or Boston that came up to them | in their Fourth of July performances. Of all j the works of man's hanas, there is none which seems to have such a life of its own as bells, j How they sympathize with the people, giving voice to their joys and their sorrows! How,! with prophets' voices, they speak to each man in his own tongue! And now, sometimes, like mocking spirits, they urge the mad fury of the mob with peals of vengeance and triumph, which in the ears of the wiser few are a knell of despair. When the British took Charleston in 1780, they stabled their horses in the church, and unhanging the bells, sent them off to London, where they were dumped on the Tower wharf, and left unnoticed for many years. At last, the vestry of St. Michael's received a letter, bidding them expect their bells by a certain ship sailing from London. The people went in procession to bring up from the ship their beloved bells, which they had never hoped to listen to again, and with prayers and thanksgiving they were replaced in the church tower. The pious benefactor never made himself known, but he was supposed to have been some British officer who had been at the taking of Charleston. For seventy years, did those bells regulate the social life of the city. For, not only did they call to worship, and celebrate all occasions of public joy and* sorrow, but nightly they rang a curfew which ruled everybody's movements. It was intended to warn the negroes home at 9 o'clock in winter, 10 in summer; after that hour, they might not go into the streets without a written pass. The nimble negro often eluded the statute, giving leg-bail to the "guardraau," but the whites put themselves under the rule, of their own accord. All visitors were expected to take leave at bell-rinsr. and they punctually I departed at the same moment that CufFv was brushing along to gain his gate before the tap of the drum should make him amenable to the law agaiust strollers "after hours," as it was called. It would not suit this sketch to recall the memories of the day when the United States flag, lowered from Fort Sumter, was brought up to the city, amid a hush so general, one might have thought the people repented then of this rash act, till some one ordered the bells to ring a mad clamor, and with shouts of exultation, they drowned the voice that still warned them to forbear. Time went on, and Charleston, behind her defences of sand, resisted all the efforts to carry her. During the 500 (546) days of bombardment, all the lower part of the town had to be abandoned. Houses and churches were shattered, the cannon balls tore up the very grave-yards, and the bones of the dead were scattered. Yet the spire of St. Michael's was untouched. Perhaps the cannoneers tried to I spare it?perhaps good angels guarded it. I But, what neither the malice of the enemy nor j the spite of fortune did, the people themselves j effected. For the bells were taken dowu and j sent to Columbia, to be cast into cannon. ' Gen. Beauregard, perhaps shocked at the des- j ecration, pronounced them unfit for the pur- j pose; and the fate which heaped up atColura- j bia for safe-keeping everything of value in ; _i _ Di.a. *1 i?11? ?i Tl,nn : ine ouue, mere ueuwneu wie ucua aiou. xwcu 1 Sherman's array passe'* through, leaving its i track as of lightning. A party of half-drun- j ken soldiers out for a lark and for plunder,; were accosted by a negro, who offered to show them the bells which had rung in secession. "Never," said the men, "shall they play that | tune again 1" and they smashed them into a hundred pieces. i Sad was the return to the desolated homes, I and the meetings in the dumb church, to which ' no miracle might now restore the voice of the chimes they loved. But they were men of pluck still, and as soon as they had shaken themselves up and provided for the first pressing needs, they resolved to tax themselves to the utmost to get a new chime. Scarcely had the rector bread, and the vestry and congregation were all very poor, but they wrote to (J. R. Prioleau, of London, to inquire : the cost of a new set. This gentleman had i lived so long in England as to have become i almost an Englishman, with a fair English ! wife and bluff handsome English children, but his heart stirred at the recollection of the ' dear old voices that had called him in childhood, and he undertook the task with a loving zeal that brought about the most surprisI ing results. There was no record at Charles: ton of where the bells came from. But Mr. Prioleau searched the directory for the oldest ; founders of the city, and went from one to the j other until, at Meares & Co., White Cnapel, I London, a firm which has been in existence 300 years, he found, by patient examination, the records of bells cast for St Michael's Church, Charleston, S. C., in 1759. The proportions of the metal, and the sizes of the bells, were all entered in the books; and the present Meares engaged to turn out a new set, which, | when hung, should make the Charlestonians j themselves think they heard their veritable old bells. But Mr. Prioleau was not content with this; he wrote back to have all the fragments that could be found sent out, and this was done. Meanwhile, Meares found still in their service an old man of seventy-six, who i had been an apprentice under the very fore- j man who, more than 100 years before, had j cast these belles; and he, stimulated by Prioleau's generosity, never rested till he brought I * ? * 11 4 /vwiMinal mAlilrla tV\a Auot. | LU llgiil L1JC VC1J uu^iuai iuuuiuo ivi miiv vww ings. Into them the new metal was melted with careful distribution of the broken fragments, so as to make the illusion a reality. All that was wanting to make up the cast Mr. Prioleau added, and the reward of his perseverance and generosity was to send to the vestry these new bells, which are the very old ones still. Again did the congregation with tears and thanksgiving receive the bells from this their fifth voyage across the Atlantic, and hung them up in St. Michael's steeple. May they never again be removed by the ! rough hand of war, or ever sound aught but peace on earth and good will toward men. THE HOMESTEAD AND BANKRUPT LAWS. The Statesville (N. C.) American says that a case will soon be carried up to the Supreme Court of the United States, iuvolving the question of the constitutionality of the retrospective feature of the homestead law. If the Supreme Court of the United States should decide, as it is generally believed it will, that the retrospective feature of the homestead provision of our State Constitution is in conflict with the Constitution of the United States, then all the homestead men, who owe old debts, must lose their homesteads, unless they promptly avail themselves of the bankrupt law. This is a matter that becomes all interested to enquire into at once, otherwise they may soon find themselves without a homestead. The case, we learn, will be carried up by Mr. N. H. D. Wilson, Assignee of the Bank of Cape Fear." To which the Greensboro New North State says: "In Virginia the Supreme Court of Appeals has decided that the homestead provision is not good against old debts. Judge Rives, of the U. S. Court in that State, in a recent decision, held that the Bankrupt Court roust accept the construction given to the homstead law by the Supre me Court of the State; and therefore, in bankruptcy, the petitioner is not entitled to the homestead exemption provided for in the Virginia Constitution, as against debts contracted prior to the adoption of that Constitution. Should the Supreme Court of the United States reverse the decision of our Supreme Court on the homestead question, (ana there is every reason to think it will,) debtors in North Carolina who shall not have saved th eir homesteads by going into bankruptcy, will lose everything. In connection witn this, it is but proper to state that there is pending in Congress a bill for the repeal of the bankrupt law which was introduced last winter. The debtor who takes the benefit of the bankrupt law relieves himself not only of the burden of his ordinary debts, but he removes the judgments that are hanging over his homestead, and places his home in such a condition that he can sell it free from all incumbrances if he sees fit to do so. The discharged bankrupt who had his homestead laid off to him under the State laws, will hold it in absolute fee, free from any judgment lien ; for the simple reason that his discharge in bankruptcy discharges him from any liability on the judgment; and the judgment being discharged, i . n fi there can be no lien by virtue tnereoi. COMMERCIAL HONOR. Two centuries ago it was thought an insult in the Highlands of Scotland to ask a note from a debtor. It was considered the same as saying, "I doubt your honor." If parties had small business matters to transact together, they stepped out into the open air, fixed their eyes on the heavens, and each repeated his obligation with no mortal witness. A mark was then carved in some rdck or tree near by to be a remembrancer of the compact. Such a thing as a breach of contract, we are told, was then very rarely met with, so highly did the people regard their honor, and so truly did they fear Him beneath whose eye they performed such acts. When the march of improvement brought in the new mode of doing business, they were often pained by these innovations. An anecdote is handed down of a farmer who had been to the Lowlands and learned worldly wisdom. On returning to his native parish be had need of a sum of money, and made bold to ask a loan of a gentleman of means, named Stewart. This was cheerfully granted, Mr. S. counting ' out the gold on his literary table. This done, | the farmer took a pen and wrote a receipt and j offered it to the gentleman, j "What is this, man?" cried Mr. Stewart, sternly eyeing the slip of paper. "It is a receipt, sir, binding me to give ye back yer gold at the right time," replied Sandy. "Binding ye? Well, ray man, if ye canna trust yersel', I'm sure I'll na trust ye! Ye canna ha' my gold!" and gathering it up, he i put it back in his desk and turned his key on it. "But, sir, I might die," replied the canny Scotchman, bringing up an argument in favor of his new wisdom, "and my sons might refuse it to ye. But this bit of paper wad compel them." "Compelthem to sustain a dead father's honor!" cried the high-minded Scot. "They'll need compelling to do right if this is the road yer leading them ! I'll neither trust ye nor them. Ye can gang elsewhere for money! Butye'll find none in this parish that'll put more faith in a bit o' paper than in a naighbor's word o' honor, and his fear o' God !" The Tree of Cortez.?One of the great historic trees of the world has just disappeared through an act of vandalism, the motive for which it is utterly impossible to discover. Every student of history will remember the story of the "Neche Trieste," or "Night of Grief," when the Aztecs, infuriated at the discovery of the fell designs of the Spaniards under Hernando Cortez, the representative filibuster of all time, assailed his force with an indescribable furv. cut it to pieces, and al most succeeded in cutting off the few survivors in their escape from the City of Mexico by tearing up the causeway which led across the shallow waters of the lake to the mamland, in the direction of Chapultepec. The Spaniards, hemmed in on all sides, and fighting hand to hand with the energy of des- i peration, forced their way along the causeway, I step by step, and, by throwing the bodies of i the dead into the gaps of the causeway, succeeded at last in dragging their artillery over ! them and reaching the solid land. Cortez, ! wounded, disheartened and exhausted, halted j under a great cypress tree, near where the i Garita de San Cosmo, within the walls of the i | city, was subsequently located; and there ral-1 lied the remnant of his forces for the retreat I toward Tlazcala, where he found the allies,! who subsequently enabled him to reduce the j [ city to capitulation. This tree was held in j I great reverence by the Mexicans, both of I [ Spanish and Indian descent, and a church was j i erected by it in commemoration of the event : which occurred there. The "Tree of Cortez" stood green and flour' ishing, though large sections of its gigantic trunk were decayed, until last montn, wnen some vandal filled the cavity with rags saturated with coal oil, set them on fire in the night, and at dawn only a heap of smoking coals marked the spot where this great historic landmark stood. Private letters received from the city of Mexico say that the greatest indignation was awakened there by the dastardly outrage, and the Government and the Historic Society had offered rewards for the discovery of the perpetrator of it.?San Francisco Bulletin. A Nation of Pigmies.?To the south of Kaffa and Susa, there is a very sultry and humid country, with many bamboo woods, inhabited by the race called Dakos, who are no bigger than boys ten years old, that is only four feet high. They have dark olive-colored complextion, andjlive a complete savage state, 1 "1? - ? i- 1 : Unnnoa fum. 11KC I LIU UCttijUj, lit&VlIlg UCIUICI uuuow, KVIU pies, nor holy trees, like the Gallas, yet possessing something of an idea of a higher being called Yer.to whom, in moments of wretchedness and anxiety, they pray?not in an erect position, but reversed, with the head on the ground, and the feet supported upright against a tree or a stone. In prayer, they say: "Yer, if thou really dost exist, why doet thou allow us to be slain t We do not ask thee for food and clothing, for we live on serpents, ants and mica Thou hast made ns. Why dost thou permit us to be trodden under foot?" The Dakos have do chief, no laws, no weapons ; they do not hunt nor till the ground, but live solely on fruits, roots, mice, serpents, ants, honey, and the like, climbing the trees and gathering fruit like monkeys; and both sexes go completely naked. They do not marry, but live indiscriminative lives of animals, multiplying very rapidly, and with very little parental instinct; the mother nurses her child for a short time only, accustoming it to eat ants and serpents as soon as possible; and when it can help itself, it wanders away where it will, and the mother thinks no more about it. They have thick, protruding lips, flat noses, and small eyes; the hair is not woolly, and is worn by the women over the shoulders. The nails on the hand and feet are allowed to grow long, like the talons of vultures, are used in digging for ants and in tearing to pieces the serpents, which they devour raw, for they are unacquainted with fire. The spine of the snake is the only ornament worn around the neck, but they pierce the ears with a sharp-pointed piece of wood. Shakspeare's Handwriting.?It is nothing less than marvellous that a man who wrote as he wrote?and, altogether,, no man ever wrote like him?that a poet, the author of 8UCD piays ana SUCO put:iuh ; tuai a ujau JA?sessing so many friends and admirers, with whom his correspondence must have been extensive, should not have left a single line be* hind him traced by his own hand. Of all his* poems and plays there does not exist a page, a line, a single word in manuscript All of Shakspeare's manuscript plays could not have perished in the fire which destroyed the Globe Theatre. The author must have made little account of them himself; but how great would our estimation be of a single act of any one of Shakspeare's plays in his own handwriting 1 We have just now among us a parallel to the tulip mania. Thousands of pounds are willingly paid for a picture which the same number of shillings would once have purchased. Eather, let us say that the shillings were given for the picture, and that the pounds by thousands are given for the painter's name. Well, what would not be willingly paid (for the sake of Shakspeare's name) for the original manuscript, say of Hamlet? There would be a fierce fight among the competitors for even a single palSage. What a contention there would be for the first loveletter, addressed to any one ? A costly holograph ! Alas! there are neither lines nor letters. All that have been saved of Shakspeare's handwriting is confined to a couple of signatures of his name to certain deeds, and in those subscriptions the name is spelled differv/?o?a Via no nnf t/1 CIJL1V. UVCU UIO AVigViO WW produce a letter by Shakspeare.?TcmpU Bar. What the Blind See.?In a recent work on "Blindness and the Blind," the author, a Mr. Levey, says: "When passing along a street I can distinguish shops from private houses, and even point out the doors and windows. &c., and this whether the doors be shut or]open. When a window consists of one entire sheet of glass it is more difficult to discover than one composed of a number of small panes. From this it would appear that glass is a bad conductor of sensation, or at any rate of the sensation specially connected with this sense. When objects below the face are perceived, the sensation seems to come in an oblique line from the object to the upper part of the face. While walking with a friend, I said, pointing to a fence which separated the road from a field, "Those rails are not quite as high as my shoulder." He looked at them and said they were higher. We, however, measured, and found them about three inches lower than my shoulder, At the time of making this observation I was about four feet from the rails. Certainly, in this instance, facial perception was more accurate than sight. When the lower part of a fence is brick work and the upper part rails the fact can be detected, and the line where the two meet easily perceived. Irregularities in height and the projections and indentations in walls can also be discovered. A similar sense be* A- ??*Ua AmitMfll At?oofiAn on/1 JOIJgS LU auiue paxt Ul iuc auiiuai Viwuuu, MHV. especially to bats, who have been known to fly about a room without striking against any* thing after the cruel experiment has been made of extracting their eyes." Out with It.?How many kind thoughts die unborn; how many kind words are stifled unspoken. Hearts hunger for a word of appreciation and praise, and would leap for gladness if they knew the kindness that others feel toward them; but while they plod on in doubt and darkness, we stifle kindly aspirations, and the cheering thought andf sympathizing word dies within our hearts and makes no sign. Why need we be so reticent concerning things that are good ? Most peeple are outspoken enough when angry or discontented. They find fault boldly, with a relish; but words of praise are with them exceedingly few. T* in fwia tViaf Via tViof flatfaroth hia noicrVi lb I a bl UQ bUUb UV VUMV UMVW* WIU M?W bor spreadeth a net for his feet. We are to avoid flattery and fulsome praise. But yet, when a glow of honest admiration or approval rises within our hearts, why not out with it, and let it gladden others, as it cheers us ? How happy families might be if every thought of thankfulness, and sympathy, and love found voice, and manifested itself in speech and action, from day to day. How many a home, now dreary and uncomfortable, might be made joyous with light and sunshine if we would not only rebuke with fidelity, and reprove in love, but would also show in words and deeds our sense of gratitude and approval, when we can honestly do so. Century Pills.?There is an ingenius patent medicine vender in New York, and tnis is his latest manoeuvre: It appears, according to his solemn statement that Methuselah was enable to live for centuries by the use of the Methuselah pills, the ingredients of which were only known to himself. The receipe was through some means lost, and the span of life has been growing shorter ever since. Fortunately he stumhied upon the recipe, and any lady or gentleman who wishes to live half a dozen centuries has only to buy a box of these pills.