Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor.| ^.n $nbcjpbcnt jfamiln fttfospapcr: Jot % IJrontolioit of t|e |)aKtital, Social, j|gricultural anb Commercial Interests of t{;e Sontjj. |tebms?$3.00 a year, in advance. ^ VOL. 19. YORKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, MAY 15, 1873. 3STO. 20. kjU (Original Jfotg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. FLORIMOND; OK, Divorce or No Divorce. BY MRS. CLARK WARING. CHAPTER XXX. A SURPRISE. "What does the doctor think of my condition, to-day ?" asked Albert Dandridge, tumr * ing uneasily on his sick bed. "Tell me the f truth, Florimond." 7 "He thinks you somewhat better, dear Albert," said his wife, smoothing baek the hair from his pale forehead ; "but still in a precarious state. You have been at death's door, my husband ! And if you are ever spared to rise from this sick bed, the doctor says you must change your mode of life entirely. You must give up all mental work?all business; and let your mind and body have perfect rest. Ah ! Albert, if you had only listened to me, you might have been spared this fearful spell." "I will always listen to you hereafter, Florimond, if God will only spare my life. Oh ! think how hard it would be for me to die now ! I am so happy ! With my wife and child restored to me, surrounded by every comfort and blessing of life, existence spread before me in such fair, bright colors?just in the prime ef manhood?my God, it would be hard to die ! The ways of Providence are so incomprehensible?so mysterious, Florimond. Why does Death flee from us when we are miserable, and clutch us when we are happy ? Why did the Almighty give me strength to battle through those years of hardship and trial, and now, when I have reached the goal of my desires, smite me with weakness ? Ah ! I cannot understand it I could have bade adieu to the scenes of earth then, with comparative resignation. Now, when I am so happy?Florimond, I cannot die ! I will not Ife die!" PP His wife tried to comfort him, and with gentle, soothing words to quiet his excited tK spirit. V The early southern spring had now develP oped into the long hot southern summer, and Albert, being again able to sit up, the attendant physician recommended an immediate change of air. They went first to the Virginia Springs, and the waters there not producing the beneficial effect desired, proceeded, under medical advice, to Saratoga, to test the virtue of the Congress water. In that place, for some time, they were stationary, as Albert appeared to derive material benefit. Though not now exclusively confined to bed, Colonel Dandridge was very rarely able to leave his room. His wife was, therefore, much confined and had little recreation or amusement. With the usual selfishness of a sick man, Albert made great complaints if his wife left his bedside for a few moments, and it never seemed ^ to enter his head that she either wished or required exercise or recreation. Sometimes, however, when he slept, leaving Berta to watch her father, the weary nurse would slip out for a breath of fresh air. It was thus one early July morning that she threw on a hat, and installing the ready and handy little Berta by the bedside, noiselessly left the room. I In the passage she met an acquaintance also equipped for an early walk?a lively, agreeable, fashionable New York belle?to whom she had been accidentally introduced. They walked together in the direction of the spring, chatting incessantly of people and things. If Miss Pleasanton had one fault, it was an unceasing flux de bouche. - n w ta i; j 1 *u "rray, iurs. jjanuriugtj,uu?crvc iamu small, dark lady over there, walking with the tall gentleman?she is a recent acquisition. Do you see to whom I allude?" Florimond followed the direction of her glance, and finding the right couple, had no eyes whatever for the dark lady. With a sudden start, she had recognized the tall gentleman on whose arm the lady was leaning. ? Her vision and every faculty of her being was engrossed by the sight of Ralph Eglinton. "Do you observe her ?" persisted Miss Pleasanton. "She is a French lady, who speaks English with the most irresistible accent. I hope you shall meet her. She is the most * sparkling, vivacious, interesting, charming creature in the world! I never saw such L spirits, such wit, and overflowing life! See I how they are laughing now?some of her fun, I I'm sure. I wish we were near enough to en" joy the laugh with them." "Yes, there was no doubt about it. Ralph was absolutely laughing?he had not, then, ^ forgotten how to laugh !" "Are you acquainted with them ?" Florimond managed to inquire. Oh! yes. It is Doctor and Mrs. Eglinton. I met him once before, though some months ago ; but he recognized me this morning and introduced mo ^1 to his wife. ^ Mrs. Eglinton ! Ralph's wife! The ground shook under Floriraond's feet, and the earth B swam before her eyes. Ralph married, and R so soon! Was the image of the woman, whom he had professed to idolize, so soon obliterated ^tt^^from his heart? Farewell, then, to all belief ^ ^Vin the constancy of man's heart! BP "My dear Mrs. Dandridge!" exclaimed Miss Jo maffot* wifK roil ? V jriKHSttlJLUU, nuBt 10 tut uiutbvi < ?> J . J I have asked you one question three separate ft* times, and you do not answer. Are you? ^^^^^vhat makes you so wretchedly pale ? Oh ! yoH sick, dear Mrs. Dandridge ?" "I feel rather faint," said Florimond, gasping for breath. Will you let me lean on your arm for a little ? Now?thank you?I feel a little stronger. I must go back to?" "Yes," said Miss Pleasanton, "that will be the best thing, for there is such a crowd, and ^ one hates to be conspicuous. Bear all your weight on me and we will walk very slowly. It is no wonder you feel so badly?you are always around that sick bed. Have I not remonstrated with you before now ?" "But how can I avoid it?" asked Mrs. Dandridge. "I cannot leave him?he seems to miss me so much." "Well, let him miss you !" cried Miss Pleasanton. "It is nothing but a species of selfishness. Anybody else can give him a glass of - * i r. - _ water or administer nis medicines, ior a iew hours during each day, that you may have some opportunity for air and exercise." Mrs. Dandridge making no response to this, [ the young lady heaved a deep sigh, and said, with a half-serious, half-comic expression on her pretty, youthful face? I "Dear me, I am sure I shall never get ray | I courage up to the sticking point of matrimoj ny, for the closer one looks into the subject, j . the more fearful it becomes!" Mrs. Danclridge tried, conscientiously, to j | put Ralph Eglinton and his wife out of her j | head. She devoted herself more assiduously than ever to Albert. She did uot allow herself a moment's time for thought. All to no purpose. No matter what she was doing, the busy brain was always at work, aud always on one subject. And the more she thought of it, the more she was convinced Ralph Egj linton was not married. "Forgotten ! forgotI ten already ? It is impossible !" It was several days after this, that there I came, late one afternoon, a quick rap at Mrs. Dandridge's door. It was Miss Fleasanton, "I have come to ask after the invalid," she said, advancing into the room, freshness and life advancing with her. Col. Dandridgewas sitting up in a large chair. "Thank you, Miss Pleasauton, I am feeling so much better to-day, I am going to ask you to coax my wife to go out with you. She has quite lost her roses, and I cannot look at her these past few days without my conscience and my heart both smiting me." "Upon my word! So you have got a conscience? Thought itquiteanirapossible thing for a man ! Come, Mrs. Dandridge, doff your walking suit instanter, for the day is almost done. Your husband's voluntary and unexpected goodness has quite reconciled me to mankind?and matrimony!" They walked on, Florimond's heart in a constant flutter of expectation. There they are, strolling along, the dark lady leaning, with the most graceful abandon, on Ralph's Vio Konrlinor rJmun Viio tflll hpflf? sliprhf.lv. to catch what the petite creature is saying. Floriraond's acute feminine eyes devoured the lady's appearance. She examined her minutely from head to foot. Aye! Ralph Eglinton has an unerring judgment, a quick eye, a matchless skill in the selection of woman kind. No doubt of that! With what exquisite taste is this pretty fairy dressed. Every fold, every ribbon, every puff, every frill, falling into its appropriate place with the most graceful art! No hands but French hands ever fashioned that perfect toilette ; nor was it ever conceived or executed,save in the magical precincts of Paris! "There!" exclaimed Miss Pleasautou, "bow fortunate. They have turned and we shall meet them, face to face. Do notice that lovely dress, and that heavenly bonnet?and her gloves; did you ever see just such a ravishing shade in gloves ?" Doctor Eglinton was so much interested in his companion's conversation, he would have passed Florimoad unnoticed again, but for the lady. "A quelle bonne heure! There is Miss Pleasauton?I want to speak with her. Who is that lady with her? Mon Dieu! She is so magnificent. Thus directing Ralph's attention to the two ladies, she dropped his arm and ran across to them, exclaiming to Miss Pleasantou, in her vivacious French manner? "You must bid me adieu, this evening. We are going, in the morning, to Long Branch. My husband says he is ennui a la mort of this tiresome Saratoga?but not I?" Florimond heard no more. Ralph was now close beside her, and looking up, their eyes met. It would be hard to tell which of the wprp tnnsfc nainfullv. overwhelminplv V.. V .. w. w r J ' o y embarrassed. Perhaps, though, Ralph; for the meeting was totally unexpected to him, whereas Florimond was in some measure prepared for it?if one can prepare for such meetings 1 At last Doctor Eglinton managed to say almost incoherently? "I did not know you were here?I am so surprised?I?I hope you are quite well." Florimond was spared attempting an answer, of which she was perfectly incapable. Ralph's wife, now having finished her conversation with Miss Pleasanton, turned toward them. "Ah ! 7non clier Ralph, have you met an- j other of your numerous friends? I think; you should present us to each other." Whereupon Ralph stammered? I "Certainly, TherC-se : Mrs. Eglinton?Mrs. i Dandridge." CHAPTER XXXI. ! I A VISIT TO THE GRAVE OF MADAME IGNATIUS. ! I think, in the early-awakened spring, or in the full-blossomed summer, or even in that melancholy season when the leaves are falling sere and yellow, in certain moods of the heart there is no more sad nor yet sweeter pleasure, than to bear offerings of tender flowers to the graves of the dead. There is something in the act which, while it lacerates the heart and tofiches the tenderest cord of our spirits, at the samp time soothes and comforts us. So j meditated Mrs. Dandridge as she wandered among the graveled walks of her garden, and ! saw the dew glittering fresh upon the bios- ; soras, and caught the perfumed incense ex- | haled by their odorous breath. And she \ turned toward the house and called? "Bcrta! Berta!" Berta appeared in the open door. "The clippers, dear, and the flower basket.! We will gather some sweet flowers aud wreathe ; some garlands, and this afternoon go to the j cemetery." "But, dear mamma," said Berta, timidly,! "do you not remember you promised grand- j father not to go up there so often. It makes : you so sad, mamma." "And there is just where you and your grandfather make a great mistake, dear," said ; her mother. "The graveyard is no more sad , place to me than elsewhere. I long to be at; peace and rest there myself?where all isquiet,! aud where so many loved ones repose." "Oh ! dear mamma," cried Berta ; "and j j leave me!" "There, sweet child," said her mother, kiss- J ing away her tears. "I will not say so j again?and now bring me the clippers and ; the flower basket." And all "the long, long, weary day," Mrs. j Dandridge and her daughter sat on the shaded back porch, listening to the twittering of, i birds, smelling the honeysuckles, and wreath- j | ing with their busy fingers, garlands and ! crosses of evergreens and flowers. T.otein the nftornnnn when Jl hrilliant SUn- ' { set gilded the horizon, and everything was in- j | describably soft and peaceful, they repaired ( j to the cemetery, accompanied by a man ser-1 vaut, who carried the decorations and proper uteusils for clearing the graves of any leaves or rubbish, which might have accumulated since their last visit. Tlie cemetery was a I little out of town, but Mrs. Dandridge, who had always been an enthusiastic pedestrian, did not regard the walk. They first halted at a grave not far from the eutrance gate, j over which arose a monument, conspicuous' for its height and beautiful proportions. "There is no cleaning to be done here," re- i marked Mrs. Dandridge; "so, Berta, accompany James, first to grandmamma's and then to Madarae's grave. Show him what to do ; when you have finished, James, you need not. wait. When I have decorated the other graves,' Berta, I will join you at Madame's." Berta and James departed to follow these ; directions. The cleaning was done, James | dismissed, and Berta sat down on the slab to j await her mother's coming. She had scarcely taken her seat when she heard a footstep, and turning, had on her tongue's end to say? "Why, mamma, have you come already?" whsnshe perceived it was not her mother, but a gentleman. The spot was retired and little frequented, so Berta regarded his appearance in some surprise, and stared very hard at him. In return, the gentleman stared very hard at Berta. He came up to the identical grave on which the child was sitting, and having examined the name on the inscription, looked at her again very intently and then spoke, extending his baud. "I perceive the little girl sitting on my mother's grave, in whom I recognize an old friend, does not recognize me. Eh! Berta, have you forgotten uncle Ralph ?" "No, indeed, I have not; but I did not expect to see you." "I hope you are very glad to see me," said Ralph,smiling; and not waiting for an answer he went on, "and how do you, Berta? and how have you been since we parted that long, long time ago ?" "Why has it been so long, uncle Ralph ?" asked the practical Berta, who was disposed to regard the literal rather than the seeming. "It has not been such a dreadful long time since we were at Saratoga, and mamma told me she met you one evening there?and it was not long before that, we came back to Claire* mont." "My dear child !" exclaimed Ralph, "computing time by days and months and years, what you say is very true, but computing by my own sensations, it has been quite an eternitysince that very evening you recall to ray mind. By the way, mon enfant, how is your mamma?" "She is not very well," said Berta, "she is always so sad, and she grieves so much for papa." "And is your father still sick ?" "Still sick ?" cried Berta. "Do you not know, uncle Ralph, that my papa is dead ? It was very soon after we came home from the Springs last summer." "Dead !" repeated Ralph, and then muttering something which sounded very much like, "The deuce he is 1" relapsed into profound silence. Berta sat a little nearer to him, and look ing up inquiringly ana anectionateiy into ma face, asked? "Have you come to see mamma, uncle Ralph?" "To tell you the truth, Berta, I did not come to see her, because"?and breaking off abruptly, he at last said, "I only came by here to visit my mother's grave for the last time, as I am leaving the country, perhaps, forever." "I only thought," said Berta, "as you used to be always wanting mamma to marry you, perhaps you still wanted her. And now as papa is dead"? "And now that your father is really dead," repeated Ralph, gloomily, "don't you suppose, as is usual with all human affairs, there is some other impediment in the way?" "I did not suppose so," said Berta, "but the other day I was talking about you, and wondering where you were, and why you did not come to see us, and mamma said, 'Hush child?hush ! You don't know what you are talking about. Why should he come to see me ? He has forgotton me long ago; in fact, ray child, he never cared for your poor mother at all.' And, uncle Ralph, she cried all day, j and I am sure I shall ne*er, in my life, mention your name to her agaiu."~ uri?10..1111 ui cireai vjruu : oneu j.vuipii, cauiicui^, jiuw could she talk so ? She knows how passionately I loved her. It is I who should say, she never cared for me, or else she would never have deserted me, even for your father, Berta." To this Berta made no reply, and the two sat in heavy silence, broken by the sound of crushed leaves, under approaching feet, and a voice which said, in close proximity? "Well, Berta, did you get tired waiting for me?" Ralph arose in haste and agitation, just as Mrs. Dand ridge appeared from behind the tall tombstone. Ralph, this time, had the advantage. Poor Florimond was astonished and utterly overwhelmed with confusion at the sight of him. In his old, impulsive fashion, he caught both of her bauds and looked joyfully into her pale face ; and seeing she could scarcely stand, said? "Take a seat here, on this slab. Berta tells I ine you have not been so well. I am, indeed, truly sorry." Seeing she could not yet speak, he went on? "You cannot fancy how gratified I am to meet you this evening. I wish to thank you for taking such beautiful care of my dear mother's grave. All these flowers growing around it so luxuriantly, making it a spot of such enchanting loveliness, I suppose, were planted by your hand. Words fail me to i thank you appropriately. I came many long ; miles out of my way on a pious pilgrimage to this sacred spot. I could not leave America without comiuc ; but I did not dare hope for the happiness of meeting you here." Florimond'8 eyes fell before his glance, and she only faltered? "Where?where are you going ?" "To my mother's native land?cette belle j France, now. ravaged and desolated by the : savage hand of war." "Areyou going to live there?" "Probably," he said; giving her a keen ; glance. "At this moment, I cannot say posi-; tively. I wish, at all events, to visit the ruins of Paris ; but whether I reside there perraa-' neutly, depends somewhat upon the wishes ' and the will of another." "I suppose it would please your wife very > much," said Florimond, in a scarcely audible voice. "Excuse me," said Ralph, tumiug his eyes i full upon her, "but I did not quite catch what you said." "I said, I supposed it would please Mrs. Eglinton, to have you live there. How?hoi is she ?" "Mrs. Eglinton ?" repeated Ralph. "Ah Th6rese?I had almost forgotten your meel ing with her at Saratoga. Did you not thin] her stylish aud exceedingly captivating in af pearance and manners?" "Very," said Florimond, her face coloring in spite of herself, for she could not hel; thinking it rather bad taste in Ralph to as] her such questions abtmt his wife. Fearin; he would misconstrue her brevity, she hastens to add, "I was most agreeably struck with he appearance, and thought her manners charm ing; but you know I only saw her for a fei brief moments. Is she with you now ?" - - L "With me? INo, lncieea, sne naa g<ju home long ago. They were only over here o: a visit." "They! Who are they? I am speakin of your wife," and for the first time since thei meeting, her dark languishing eyes were fixe upon him in deep penetration. "My wife!" exclaimed Ralph, in astonish ment, his face glowing like a fire coal; loo here, Florimond, did you think Th6r6se wa my wife ?" "Miss Pleasanton told me she was you wife," stammered Florimond, "and you wer always walking with her." "Always walking with her! I never walke with her but twice the whole time we spent a Saratoga. One morning I escorted her to th Spriug, and then I was with her the evenin I met you." ' "I passed you in your morning walk, too, said Florimond, with a spice of her old cc quetry, "but you were so engrossed with th capitivating Th6r6se, you had no eyes for me! "And to think," said Ralph, a world of re proach in his voice, his look, his manner; "t think you would believe me married so soo to another, after losing you 1" "I did not believe it at first," said Flori mond, "but when you, yourself, introduced m to her as Mrs. Eglinton, what else could I be lieve?" "Such a thing as you, or others, fancyin, her fny wife, never entered into my brains, said Ralph, "or I should have given her he full title, Mrs. Christopher Eglinton. She i the wife of a cousin of mine. They were ma king the tour of the States, and insisted o: my accompanying them. I was gloomy am unhappy, and I thought perhaps a little tra,vel ing would benefit ray mind and health." "Forgive me," said Florimond, with tirah imploring sweetness, extending her hand. "Yes, I will," said Ralph, imprisoning th hand and the hand's possessor too; "but onl on conditions." We trust to the acuteness of our readers t surmise those conditions, and will say nothin about them. Together they hung the garlands on Mac arae's grave, and scattered, in graceful profu siou, the lovely flowers plucked, that earl mom, for the occasion. "And now," whispered Ralph, "we mus leave this sweet spot, but thrice holy, thric lovely, for the memory of this night, my b( loved, shall it ever be?our mother's grave ! Through the moonlight, so wondrous soi aud clear, they strolled back to town, and w predict, before this year of grace has run it a/mimaa 1* aha mill Ka o irtA/lilinr* in P.l oirnmntv tUUISUj II1UC IT 111 UU a TT^Ulilllg III VlUllUUiUil THE END. IpsttUauMuis j??4itrg DEATH OF JAMES L. ORE. Our columns are draped in mourning to*da for the death of a great and distinguished A me: ican citizen, born and living from boyhood t manhood and from manhood to honorable ag within the limits of this State. James Lawrence Orr was born in Craytor ville, Anderson district, S. C., May 12, 1825 and died in St. Petersburg on the night of th 5th of May, 1873, in the fifty-first year of hi age. His disease is said to have been inflam mation of the lungs, aggravated, if not brough on, by the severecliraate to which he has bee: necessarily exposed in the discharge of his dt ty. Governor Orr was, like many of the grea men ofhis time, a self-made man, receiving i his earlier years only the rudiments of an ed ucation, and, until his eighteenth year, assisl ing his father in his mercantile pursuits. Ii 1840, however, he entered the University c Virginia and graduated in 1842. He studie law and commenced the practice in 1843, ed iting and conducting for some time the An derson Gazette. In 1844, he was elected t the Legislature of the State from Pendletor and was reelected for several terms. H spoke in opposition to the nullification of th tariff act and in favor of giving to the peopl the election of electors for President and Vice President. In 1841, he was elected to Con gress, and from that time to 1859 was regu larly reelected, without opposition. He of posed the compromise measures of Mr. Claj and when, in May, 1851, theState Conventioi was called in Charleston, to withdraw th State from the Union, Orr voted and fough against secession and finally defeated it. H was elected speaker of the thirty-fifth Con gress, on the first ballot, and he discharge that high office with such ability that his de cisions were never overruled. He was mor than once prominently urged as a candidat for President and Vice-President. At th formation of the Southern Confederacy, Or was elected Senator from this State to the Con federate Congress. He held other prominen civil positions during the war, and raised regiment for the service, of which he was co! onel. After the war, he was elected Governo of South Carolina, and made a distinguishes speech before the Constitutional Convention which won hira the confidence of the Reput lican party and placed him among its reprt sentatives in the judiciary. He was reelects judge, and in the last campaign led the boll ing movement in the interest of what he be licved to be good government. He was ten dered the mission to the Argentine Republic but refused, and immediately upon .the reelet tion of General Grant was appointed and cor firmed Minister to Russia. He sailed for Eii rope about three months ago, and has died i: a foreign land, with the harness of his countr 011 his back. But no State lines can circumscribe th character or contain the reputation of such man as James L. Orr. When South Carolin bore herself, like Minerva, at the very fron of the national altar, as among the puresi highest and most devoted of the vestal virgin who nursed the flame of American genius, th name of James L. Orr was primus inter pare among those that glittered like jewels in th crown of our national greatness. For Ion, years he has been regarded as a statesman c the elder days, conversant in his youth witl the fathers of the republic. The intelligenc that flashes along the conscious wires of th continent will call forth an expression of ad miratiou for departed worth, sorrow for a nn tional loss, and yet with asornethingof melaii choly satisfaction because death spared hir until he had reached the zenith of his famewaited, as in respect, until the confidence an regard of a great people had crowned th n blushing honors of a well spent life with another and a higher testimony of their affection I and esteem. . , | In a distant land, before the throne of an | Emperor, our minister has fallen, upholding * : to his last moment the honor, authority and >* j power with which the American people had I entrusted him. May he rest in peace.?Cog | lumbia Herald, 6th instant. P A WONDERFUL CLOCK. ^ A German of Cincinnati has Invented a S clock which, though much smaller than the d celebrated one of Strasbourg, is, from its r j description, much more complicated. It is | now on exhibition in the window of a jewelry v | store, and attracts much attention. The inj ventor calls it "Die Labensuhr"?clock of ' life. The elaborateness of its mechanism e may be imagined from the following descripn ' tion of the wonder: maa C?% a ..lnfft aoda n flivAa ofnrv QfA^nlp If C ccc 1U a g i a do taog a biuvv/ouvij) mwv|/iv g shaped clock, four feet wide at the first story, r and nine feet high. The movement is placed ^ ; in the first story, on four delicate columns, within which swings the untiring pendulum, which is in the significant form of a beehive. ' Behind the pendulum there is a picture reprek senting mature manhood?a countryman beta hind his plough. The four corners are carved, and represent r the four periods of life?infancy, youth, manhood and age. The spaces to the right and e left of the clock are ornamented with two oil paintings, representing the spring time of life d (children playing in a garden), aud the ftu,t turan or end of life (grave diggers in a ceraee tery.) The second story consists of two tower-like pieces, on the doors of which there are two ? pictures that represent boyhood and early manhood. In the one the boy is just pushing > his little bark away from the shore. He e stands upright in his boat, and points to the " distance ; he is about to begin life?"to paddie his own canoe." In the other a young o man, who has already made some progress in the journey of life, enters a room in which Q there is an hour-glass that reminds him of the fleetness of time. On this story there are -1 i#__ [- uiree guardian angeis. e A raajeatic tower crowns, as third story, the u ingenious structure. A cock, as a symbol of watchfulness, stands on the top, directly over the portal, which opens the tower in front. On. this portal there is a painting which represents the perishableness of earthly things, r The entire structure is, in appearance, very 8 like an old Gothic castle. Now, let us see if we can describe the mechanical action of the clock. When it marks , the first quarter, the door of the left piece of the second story opens, and we see a child issne from the background, come forward to a little bell, give it one blow, and then disap3 pear. At the second quarter a youth appears, strikes the bell twice, and then disappears ; e at the third there comes a man in his prime; at the fourth we have a tottering old man, y leaning on a staff, who strikes the bell four times. Each time the door closes of itself, o When the hours are full the door of the g right piece of the second story opens, and death as a skeleton, scythe in hand, appears and |. marks the hour by striking a bfell. But it is ! at the twelfth hour that we have the grand spectacle in the representation of the day of y judgment. Then, when death hasstruck three blows on the little bell, the cock on the top of it the tower suddenly flaps his wings, and crows e in a shrill tone; and, after Death has marked the twelfth hour with his hammer, he crows ? again twice. Immediately three angels, who , stand as guardians in a central position, raise their trumpets with their right hands (in the o I-A. .1 I? 1 J J.A 3 1.1 ~ leu iney noiu swuruu; auu uiuw a uiaat lunmu ? each of the four quarters of the earth. At the t. last blast the door of the tower opens, and the resurrected children of earth appear, while . the destroying angels sink out of sight. The multitude stand for a moment full of ^ awe and wonder, when suddenly Christ in all _ his majesty descends, surrounded by angels. On his left there is angel who holds the scales of justice, on his right, another carries the 7 book of life, which opens to show the alpha r" and omega?the beginning and the end. 0 Christ waves his hand, and instantly the good e among the resurrected are separated from the wicked, the former going to the right, the lati* ter to the left. The arch-angel Michael sal, lutes the good, while on the other side stands e the devil, radiant with fiendish delight?he is can hardly wait for the final sentence of those i- who fall to him, but in obedience to the comit maud of the central figure he withdraws. The u figure of Christ raises his hand again, with a i- threatening mien, and the accursed sink down t to the realms of his Satanic majesty. Then n Christ blesses the chosen few, who draw near I- to him. i- Finally, we hear a cheerful chime of bells, n during which Christ rises, surrounded by his >f angels, until he disappears, and the portal d closes. I- We look with amazement 011 this exhibition i- of the mechanic's ingenuity; a complete o drama is here represented, without the aid of i, a human hand. And what excites our admie ration still more is the perfection of all the e movements; they are steady, calm and noisee less, with the exception of the threatening ! gestures of the figure of Christ and the movei ments of Lucifer, who darts across the scene i- with lightning rapidity. Of course, the pe >- J culiar action of these two figures is intentionr, al on the part of the artist, and adds greatly n to the effect. e t THE INDIAN WIVES OF BORDER WHITES. e The custom of taking to themselves Indian i- wives still prevails among the hunters and d trappers of our western territories, and a cor5 respondent of the Chicago Tribune, writing e from Wyoming, says: It is no uncommon e thing, in the mountainous region, to find a e white man and squaw who have a numerous r progeny of half-breed children growing up - around them. These children are active and t quick witted, and their descendants will go ft toward making up our highland population. I- The squaws make good and faithful wives, r and, so far as their knowledge goes, good d mothers. They seem to enjoy life, and in their i, gamboling games, get thoroughly excited. >- The women have games of their own, and no man interferes with them in any way. The d game seems to be somewhat like the old play of the children called, "Button, button, who's i- got the button ?" During the whole game, i- all the women sing together the most lively J, air I have ever heard among the savages, and > all are eager for the possession of the grand i-! prize, which consists of beads and beadwork, i- scissors, money, needles, thread, and a hunn : tired other things dear to the feminine heart, y The children, too, are anxious lookers-on; ! and he who supposes the Indians enjoy theme | selves ought to see them engaged in this game, a | where their whole souls appear to be absorbed n i in nWmirable excitement. It is called Ni-u- j t J witz, the Game of Hand ; and, while it is ;, going on, a woman, at either end of the two s rows of players, beats on the poles which sepae rate them, with all her might, keeping time is ! to the music, and increasing the enthusiasm e [ as much as possible. Some of the young g squaws are handsome, blackeyed creatures, if j with masses of raven hair, who would attract h j attention anywhere. Their bright-colored e j blankets set off their charms to the greatest e ; advantage, and they appear modest and decoI-1 rous enough. For a long time I was of the l- i opinion that there was no such thing as a i-: handsome Indian girl, but in this I wasgreatn ly mistaken?some of them being fair to look - upon. They break early in life, and the old d women look like the veriest hags. The young e girls have all the playful little ways of their fairer sisters, and the little ones have their dolly papooses, the same as white children. Human nature, after all, is a good deal the same everywhere, and a little observation among savages shows that they are governed by the same passions and impulses that we are, though untamed. A love of ease, and a contempt for hard work, are by no means confined to the red-skins. TO YOUNG MEN. It is easier to be a good business man than a poor one. Half the energy displayed in keeping ahead that is required to catch up when behind will save c /edit, give more time to business, and add to the profit and reputa tion of your work. Honor your engagements. If you promise to meet a man, or a certain thing, at a certain moment, be ready at the appointed time. If you go out on business, attend promptly to the matter on hand, and then as promptly go about your business. Do not stop to tell stories in business hours. If you have a place of business be found there when wanted. No man can get rich by sitting around stores and saloons. Never "fool" on business matters. If you have to labor for a living, remember that one hour in the morning is better than two at night If you employ others, be on hand to see that they attend to their duties, and to direct with regularity, promptness and liberality. Do not meddle with any business you know nothing of. Never buy a thing simply because .the man that sells it will take it out in trade. Trade is money. Time is money. A good business habit and reputation is always money. Make your place of business pleasant and attractive; then stay there to wait on your customers. Never use quick words, or allow yourself to make hasty or ungentlemanly remarks to those in your employ, for to do so lessens their respect for you and your influence over Jhem. Help yourself and others will help you. Be faithful over the interest confided to your keeping, and all in good time your responsibilities will be. increased. Do not ho in too 1 T\ _ X 1 *1 J A.11 great naste to get ricn. uo not ounu umn you have arranged and laid a good foundation. Do not?as you hope to work for success? spend time in idleness. If your time is your own, business will suffer if you do. If it is given to another for pay, it belongs to him, and you have no more right to steal it than to steal money. Be obliging. Strive to avoid harsh words and personalities. Do not kick every stone in the path ; more miles can be made a day by going steadily on than by stopping to kick. Pay as you go. A man of honor respects his word as he does his bond. Ask, but never beg. Help others, when you can, but never give when you cannot afford to, simply because it is fashionable. Learn to say no. No necessity of snapping it out dog fashion, but say it firmly and respectfully. Have but few confidants, and the fewer the better. Use your own brains rather than those of others. Learn to think and act for yourself. Be vigilant. Keep ahead, rather than behind the time. Young men, cut this out; and if there is folly in the argument, let us know. 4 ? ELECTROTYPING AND STEREOTYPING. At the North, the leading daily newspapers are printed, not from type, but from stereotype casts; otherwise it would be simply impossible to strike off their huge editions with sufficient rapidity. The principal magazines, and other periodicals, and most books, are also printed from stereotype or electrotype plates. The process of stereotyping consists in making a "matrix" of five or six sheets of paper pasted together with a peculiar paste, and ? ? J.4..1 fa A nnlntr otnfo Tn ftrcn_ I Wttlieu bliUlUllglJlJ IAJ <V |JUlpjr owro. J.L1 vnwufour hours this is ready for usj. It is then beat into the "form" of type by a hard brush, until the impression is thoroughly made, after which it is well dried in a hot press. This is the paper mold. Any number of casts may be taken with expedition, and the type is subject to no appreciable wear. This method answers admirably for newspapers, but the process has defects, especially when applied to fine book work, or the reproduction of engravings, and for these purposes it has, of late years, been almost entirely superceded by the more costly, but far more satisfactory process of-electrotyping. This process may be briefly described as follows : an impression of the page is taken in wax, forming a perfect mold. The face of this mold is covered with plumbago, to give it a metalic surface. The mold is then subjected to galvanic action in a tank filled with astrong solution of sulphate of copper. A thin film of copper is instantly deposited on the surface of the mold, increasing in thickness until the costing forms a "shell" about as thick as stout paper. This thin shell is strengthened by being "backed up" with type metal; the plates are then plained to a uniform thickness of about one-seventh of an inch, and secured upon a block of wood. The electrotype is a perfect facsimile of the original page or engraving, the minutest lines and points being reproduced with absolute precision. Besides giving a clearer impression, it is more durable than the stereotype, and altogethersuperior in artistic effect. Most of the great newspaper and book concerns do their own work of this kind, but there is an immense amount required by the community generally, and in all large cities there are numerous establishments making a specialty of this line of business. How to Sleep.?With many the inability to sleep, as a growing habit, is the first step toward certain madiless; in every disease it is an omen of ill. Hence, to cultivate sound j. .1 ?. sieep, uu iiut sieep it wiuiucut iu uajji^uu Go to bed at a regular hour, and never take a "second nap" after waking of yourself in the morning. Take nothing after dinner but a piece of bread and butter and one cup of hot tea for drink?not green tea, as it makes many wakeful. Never go to bed with cold feet. Read nothing after supper, listen to nothing, talk about nothing of a very exciting character ; avoid carefully every domestic unpleasantness, as to child, servant, husband or wife. Let no angry word be spoken or thought harbored for a single instant after tea-time; or sleep may not come before the morning light. Grown persons generally require about seven hours' sleep in summer, and eight in winter. Few, indeed, except invalids, will fril to sleep well who go to bed at a regular, early hour, on a light supper, in a large room, and clean, comfortable bed, if there is no sleeping in the day-time, and not more than seven hours in any twenty-four are passed in bed. One week's faithful trial will prove this. Children and all persons at school, should take all the sleep they can get, and should never be waked up in the morning after having gone to bed at a regular, early hour. Every humane parent will make it a religious duty to arrange that every child shall go to oea in an anectionate, loving and glad spirit. If wakeful during the night get up, draw on the stockings, throw off the bed cover to air it, walk the floor in your night-gown, with the mouth closed, all the while rubbing the skin briskly with both hands, until cooled off and a little tired. Except from August first to October first, in fever and ague localities, a chamber window should be open two or three inches in length.?Herald of Health. + How to Make Whitewash.?A cheap and simple mode is, to put unslacked lime? that which is in the form of the original rock?in a vessel, pour boiling water on until covered; place a cloth over the vessel so as to confine the most minute particles of the lime, they being the ones which most perfectly pen etrate the surfaces to which wash is applied, and, consequently, remain the longest Afterward dilute the wash to the consistency of thick cream, and apply it thoroughly and quickly, thus securing a white, light-giving surface, with a body capable of absorbing, and thus rendering harmless, the bad air and gasses which may be formed in the cellar, as also in the poultry, the meat, and other outhouses in the vicinity of the dwelling. Britania's latest born water-baby, the turret vessel Devastation, recently took her first public airing in the English channel, greatly to the delight of the Lords of the Admiralty, who do not hesitate to pronounceher the strongest man-of-war in the world, w ltn no mast except a bit of stick for signaling purposes, with enormous twin-screws, massive turrets hiding four thirty-five ton guns, and a huge tower weighing in itself one hundred and tep tons, she is like nothing that ever before carried the flag of England, and, with her fashion of burying her forecastle under a sheet of green water, she is said to look more like a marine monster than a ship of war as she steams out into the channel. She could race off to any coast, it is said, sink a dozen vessels of almost any existing pattern, and be back again in Portland or Portsmouth with no more consideration for the wind which happened to be blowing than for the spots on the sun. To pierce her sides, an enemy must come close enough to her thirty-five ton guns to send his shot and shell through twelve inches of rolled iron. If, again, he seeks to. "ram" her, she is equipped to play also at that game, and, taking her actual bulk of ten thousand tons, as she sits upon the seas, one touch of her stem will be enough for the hardiest antagonist She costs so much in material and equipments, and is so completely a product of expensive manufacturing gear and the highest metallurgic skill, that only the wealthiest nations, it is said, can afford to imitate the type. The metal in her would make a railway, and the coals which she will burn would pay for a squadron of wooden ships. This huge floating mountain of iron is so controlled by clever engineering devices that she can be managed Dy tnree nunarea men, ox whom only two hundred are blue jackets. 4 ? Facts in Natural History.?The rattle snake finds a superior foe in the deer and black snake. Whenever a buck discovers a rattle snake in a situation which invites attack, he loses no time in preparing for battle. He makes up within ten or twelve feet of the snake, then leaps forward and aims to sever the body of the snake with his sharp bifurcated hoofs. The first onset is most commonly successful. But if otherwise, the buck repeats the trial until he cuts the snake in twain. The black snake is also more than an equal competitor against the rattle snake. Sucn is the celerity, both in running and entwining itself around its victim, that the rattle snake has no way of escaping from its fatal embrace. When the black and rattle snakes are about to meet for battle, the former darts forward at the height of his speed, and strikes at the back of the neck of the latter with unerring certainty, leaving a foot or two of the upper part of the body at liberty. In an instant he encircles him within five or six folds, , he then stops and looks the strangled foe in the face, to ascertain the effect produced upon his corseted body. If he shows signs of life, the coils are multiplied and the screws tightened, the operator all the while watching the countenance of the victim. Thus the two remain thirty or forty minutes; the executioner then slackens one coil, noticing at the same time whether any signs of life appear; if so, the coil is resumed and retained until the incarcerated wretch is completely dead. The moccasin snake is killed the same way.. 4 ? Making Character.?Many people seem to forget that character grows; that it is not something to be put on, ready made, with manhood or womanhood ; but, day by day, here a little and there a little, grows with the growth and strengthens with the strength, un til, good or bad, it becomes almost a coat 01 mail. Look at a model man of business? prompt, reliable, conscientious, cool and cautious, yet clear-headed and energetic. When do you suppose he deyeloped all these admirable qualities ? When he was a boy. Let us see the way in which a boy of ten years gets up in the morning, works, plays, studies, and we will tell you just about what kind of a man he will make. The boy that is late at the breakfast table, late at school, who never | does anything at the right time, stands a poor chance to be a prompt man. The boy who half-washes his face, half-does his chores, halflearns his lessons will never make a thorough man. The boy who neglects his duties, be they ever so small, and then excuses himself by saying, "O, I forgot! I didn't think 1" will never be a reliable man. And the boy who finds pleasures in the pain and suffering of weaker things, will never be a noble, generous, kindly man; a gentleman. The Dome of the Capitol.?The dome of the Capitol at Washington is the most ambitious structure in America. It is 108 feet higher than the Washington Monument in Baltimore, sixty-eight feet higher than Bunker Hill, and twenty-three feet higher than the Trinity Church tower at New York. It is the only considerable dome of iron in the world. It is a vast hollow sphere of iron, weighing 8,000,000 pounds. How much is that ? Nearly 4,000 tons, or abou^the weight of 70,000 full grown people, or about equal to 1,000 laden cars, which, holding four tons each, would reach two miles and a-half. Directly over your head is a figure in bronze, "America," weighing 14,985 pounds. The pressure of the iron dome upon its piers and pillars is 13,477 pounds to the square foot. St. Peter presses Dearly 20,000 pounds more to the square foot, and St. Genevieve, at Paris, 65,000 pounds more. It would require to crush the supporters of our dome a pressure of 557,270 pounds to the square foot. The cost was about $1,000,000. The new wings cost $6,500,000. The architect has a plan for rebuilding the old central part of the Capitol and enlarging the park, which will cost about $3,200,000. Surgical Operation on a Hen.?-A gentleman living in Lexington, Massachusetts, bought some nens of a neighbor. After getting them home he noticed that one of them had an immense crop, which hung down nearly to the ground, and seemed to cause her much trouble, if not considerable pain. Being of a kindly nature, and always desiring to alleviate the sufferings of the afflicted, besides being somewhat of an amateur surgeon, it occurred to the gentleman that he might perhaps relieve the hen of her unnatural burden. He accordingly procured a sharp instrument, and making an incision through her neck into the crop, took out a large disncloth. which in some greedy moment poor biddy had swallowed. He then, after applying water and lard to the wound, sewed it up, and the hen is now apparently as well as ever. A zoological item of interest comes from Vickshurg, which has an eccentric torn cat that persists in sitting on a nest of hen's eggs, evidently for the purpose of hatching them, as he is never absent from his charge, except for the purpose of suyplying himself with food. At last accounts three of the chickens had broken shell, and were kindly cared for by their strange protector, who immediately cast the empty shells out of the nest and went on with his incubation. That a cat should imagine himself to be a hen is one of the mast wonderful instances of monomania on record.