Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j ^it Jnbrjirabcnt Jfamilg ftctospper: Jor tljc promotion of tjje political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tjrc S?atj>. jTERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. YOL. 19. YOEKVILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, JUNE 5, 1873. HO. 33. - ^ j^ii griginal Jdorg. | Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. JOHN'S WIFE. ??? BY E. VICTORIA LOMAX. CHAPTER X. It was*a month after the bridal party left us, when I received the following letter from Nellie: ) "Dear Matter : I have only a few moments to write. I wish you to send for Mary at once. I ! cannot explain now. She is not sick, but I think 1 she ought to be with John and yourself. Do not I tell him you have received this letter from me. In haste,"yours affectionately, Nellie." My surprise, on reading the above, can well j be imagined. It was bufr natural that I should ; think Mr. Howard was, in some way, the cause of Nellie's letter; but my trust in Nel- J lie was still unshaken. That he was capable j of trying to compromise her, I knew ; but it I was only on that account, and not because I ! thought she would do anything unbecoming ' her position as John's wife, that I determined *' Til J , j I would not rest unm i nau reiuuveu nci i from that influence. The most difficult question in ray mind was, how to break the subject to John, without making him anxious. I decided I would go to Clifton myself. Once there, I could : very well make some excuse for Mary to return with me. John gave in to my plans very readily. He said he thought the change would do me good ; but I fancy the principal reason of his I acquiescing, was the hope that Mary would | return with me. He promised he would take care of aunt Patsy the few days I would be I absent; so with a sad and anxious heart, IJ left home, the first time, for years. I was met with great affection by the faraily at Clifton ; but I think Mary was better I pleased to see me than any member of the household. She went with me to my room, and we sat there talking for hours. She made me tell her every thing about home, and proved, by her questions, that she kept us in loving remembrance. As the dinner bell rang, I turned to her and said : "Has my little sister nothing to tell me about herself?" "No; nothing," she answered, hurriedly, "except that I am delighted that you have come,I and that I am going to return with you." "I am very glad, Mary; Elrawood has been --1- tt/?i T dn nnt fViInk glUUUly CUUUgU nibUVUb JUU. A. uu uv. the air of Clifton agrees with you ; you are not looking well." "Oh ! yes, I am well?that is?" "What, Mary?" "Nothing; only sometimes I feel as if it would be better, perhaps, for those I love, if I were not to live long. I don't think I would be sorry to die, believing that." "Hush ! my darling. You must not speak so lightly of death. I trust God will grant you a long and happy life. You know I expect to be the 'aunt Patsy' of John's and your household ; but come let us go to dinner." Mary remained with me so constantly that I did not have an opportunity of hearing what Nellie had to tell me, until I had been at Clifton a day or two. I was only waiting to hear this, to return home. Mr. Howard's name had not been mentioned by any, up to this time. Nellie made the excuse of wishing to show me some improvement she was making on the lawn, in order to have a private conversation. As we left the room, I observed that Mary was looking at me, with a pleading expression in her eyes, that almost said : "Do not think evil of me." I could not resist the impulse to give her a kiss, and as I did so, she J - TnV>n vr?n vrnnld murniureu.- luupiummuvuuu j....? always love me." Before I could answer, Nellie called me, and we left the room together. My impatience was such that I said as soon as we were alone? "Now Nellie, tell rae everything." "I scarcely know where to begin, Mattie ; for this thing seems to have been going on ever since we came to Clifton." "Well, then, begin from that time." "I am convinced," said Nellie, "that odious Henrietta Lewis is at the bottom of the whole affair. I found, when I arrived here, that through her letters she had spread-the report every where that Mary and Mr. Howard were still very much attached to each other. To prove this, she gave an account of an interview which took place between them at her house, which I believe to be false from beginning to end. But the worst feature is, that! Mr. Howard, instead of resenting any report of this kind, seems rather to countenance it, and has been paying devoted attention to Mary ever since she came to the neighborhood." "And is this why you wrote to me to send for Mary." "No ; the fact is, Mattie, I dislike to tell even you, what I saw that day. I cannot believe that Mary is guilty ; but certainly appearances are against her." "What was it you saw ?" "She asked rae, one morning, if I would send a note to Mr. Howard for her. I thought it a strange request, but of course, I consented. That note was to appoint an interview for the following morning. Hp came early, and remained for several hours. They were alone in the library?company being jn the parlor?and I, forgetting they were there, went in to get a book for Harry. Mr. Howard was seated on the sofa, with both of Mary's hands in his. I did not notice her looks, but his were decidedly lover-like. I came out directly, and wrote that letter to you." "Have you said anything to Harry about it?" "Oh ! no, Mattie ; if we are to be disgraced by John's wife, let us keep it to ourselves." "Hu3h ! Nellie, you must not speak in that way of Mary. We are not disgraced, yet; and, I trust, never will be. I have perfect faith and confidence in her. You did right to send me that letter. We will go home tomorrow." When I told Mary of my intention, she said? "Could you wait one day longer, Mattie?" "Certainly, if you wish it. Is it because you do not feel well enough to travel ?" "No, that is not the reason; I have something to attend to." "Very well, then ; we^l appoint the following day." That evening, to the surprise of Nellie and myself, Mr. Howard came, ostensibly to see me, having just heard of my arrival. In the course of the evening, Mary and himself had a few moments' conversation, after which she seemed unusually depressed, and soon retired. Mr. Howard remained sometime longer, and as he was leaving, said? "Miss Leslie, I am sending letters to Cuba. Have you any message for your friend? I have written him a long letter, telling him evj erything about you and your family. But I know a direct message from you would give j him far more pleasure than anything I could j write." "I have no message to send," I replied, coldly. | "Ishall tell him what you say; of course, he will understand," was his answer as he left the room. I went directly to Mary, and found her still awake. I think she had been crying. She put her arras around me and said? "Let us go home to-morrow, Mattie." "Yes, darling, we will go." CHAPTER XI. I was truly glad to be at home again. We had a long and ?itiguing day's ride, and the sight of the little, pale, patient face by my side, made me all the more anxious for the journey to be over. I think John wasstartled by Mary's look ; but he concealed his feelings and it was only by the great tenderness of his manner toward her, that I discovered his thoughts. She seemed listless and preoccupied all the [ time now, as if she had some cause for anxiety which she was endeavoring to conceal from us. I said to her one day? "Why are you so quiet, darling? You have not been like yourself since your return from Clifton." To my surprise she burst into tears and left j the room. After that I did not allude to the ; subject agaiu. Time passed slowly with us. Since Nellie's 1 marriage we had but few visitors, as neither ! Mary nor myself were gay enough to attract j the young people of the neighborhood. I had j seen nothing of Miss Nancy Turner since my i ?j...__ /Inrr/MifliT honod f-linh T should : retui M) aim uiwtuvivuwj ? . ?w not. Henrietta Lewis was quite a constant! visitor, but as she indicated so plainly that j her visits were not to rae, I did not trouble myself to entertain her. Mary and herself had long conversations together, and once I thought I saw letters passing between them. I determined not to suspect, but wait and see what was the meaning i of all this. One morning, as we were sitting at work, Mary's basket was overturned. A letter, the j direction of which I could distinctly read, was j thrown out. I thought it kgood opening for in-1 troducing the subject with which my thoughts were almost constantly occupied, so I said? "I did not know you corresponded with your cousin Richard, Mary ?" "Yes, sometimes," she replied, evidently embarrassed by my question. "Where is he ?" "At Waverly, but he expects to come to the Lewises next week. Why do you ask ?" "Nothing, only ever since I heard he was once an admirer of yours, I have felt interested in him." There was something not agreeable in the recollection of the former intimacy between her cousiu and herself, I could plainly see; but what it was, I was at a loss to know. I j resolved not to judge her hastily, and until j she proved herself to be unworthy of my love, j it should still be hers. Richard Howard came, and Henrietta brought him directly to Elmwood. He de-, voted himself to me the earlier part of his j visit. He mentioned Owen Morris' name re-1 peatedly ; but I had schooled myself to ap- j i pear indifferent, and think I succeeded. I J I was surprised, when on leaving me to join Mary, he said? /-V nr I "lVUSS -L?esue, is wweu luuins mu vmjr w ; quaintance you have in Cuba?" "Yes; why do you ask ?" "I have received letters lately from a friend ; of mine, who has beeu making most minute ! and particular enquiries about the Elmwood , household. I thought it likely you might j know him." "What is his name?" I asked, but before I i could hear the answer, he turned and left me. j Henrietta now fell to ray charge, while! Mary and Mr. Howard walked out on the ; [ lawn. It has puzzled me, ever since, to know [ ! howl kept up the conversation that morning, | for my thoughts were certainly not with the j fair lady with whom I was conversing ; but1 she did not seem to notice it. After waiting ! an hour, she arose and said? "I suppose Mary and Mr. Howard are so j much interested in talkiug over old times,, that he cannot tear himself away. I am ! afraid I shall have to interrupt them, as I j have an engagement." "I will send him word," I replied, but as I turned to ring for the servant, I heard such an j j exclamation of horror from Henrietta's lips, i j that I looked around and saw that Mary had j fainted. Richard Howard was supporting her in his arras. My first impulse was to take her away | from him. I could not bear that he should | touch her, for I was now convinced, beyond a j I T a 1 ti'O ve 1 I UUUUl, UlilL IIV nas LUG VUKIIIl X null iunn|g j suspected him of being. We brought her into the library, and after i resting for a few moments on the sofa, she ' | seemed to revive. She looked anxiously j around, and on seeing that I was the only 1 ; person standing near, said? "Do not tell John, please." I was too anxious to deny her anything, j then ; so I said? j "No, darling, I will not tell him, if you do 1 not wish it." She seemed satisfied, and closed her eyes,! ! as if wishing to sleep. I turned to Miss Lew-! j is and Mr. Howard, who were standing at j j some distance, and said? j "On your way home will you be kind enough ' to stop by Dr. Green's and ask him to come , i to Elm wood as soon as possible? I would not trouble you, but John is absent, attending to some business, and will probably not return ; j before night." "Certainly, I will do so, Miss Leslie," said j Mr. Howard; "and if I can be of assistance ! to you in any other way, I shall be glad if you will call on me. Would you like me to | inform Mr. Leslie of his wife's illness, also ?" j j "No, thank you. I know he intends re1 turning here as soon as he finishes his busi-: ; ness, and it would alarm him, needlessly, were ! you to tell him about Mary." "I hope she may soon recover. Fainting ! from over fatigue is not often serious in its j consequences." As he said this, he gave me such a look, I that, woman as I was, I felt the most intense desire to knock hira down ; but being a wo- \ man, I could only bow, and bid him "good morning." They left the room, apparently without no- j ticiug Mary; but from the minute account of the affair, which was circulated throughout i the neighborhood, I am convinced that Hen-; rietta was employed in taking mental notes,, which, with the assistance of a fertile iraagina-! tiou, she soon made, of a few plain facts, a j romance to be equaled by the adventures of! a certain "Baron Munchausen," of the olden j time. My brain was in a perfect whirl, as I seated myself by the side of John's wife. What could have been the cause of her attack ? It was worse than useless to conjecture ; and as she appeared to be entirely re-' stored to consciousness, I decided to give her ] an opportunity of telling me. So I said? i "What was it,, darling, that made you sick ?" She closed her eyes as if to prevent me from seeing them, and said? "Nothing?that is?nothing lean tell you." "I hope it is something you can tell your husband, Mary ?" "No, I cannot tell John." I turned to make what I fear would have seemed a harsh remark, when, on looking at her again, I saw the large tears rolling down her pale cheeks. The promise I had made, | "always to love and care for John's wife," j flashed through my mind, and I only bent: over and kissed her. I could say nothing. Before either John or the doctor arrived, j Mary was quite herself again. She was ap- j parently very bright and cheerful, and gave John a very laughable account of ray sending, post haste, for a physician, because she felt a little tired. "You see, John," she said, "you need never be uneasy about me, so long as I am with Mattie. She takes as good care of me as you do." "Not quite, Mary," I said; "you know there are times when a husband's love and protection are worth far more than a sister's care. John could have done more for you to-day than I did, if he had been with you." She gave me a reproachful glance as if to say?"Don't betray me," and placing her arm in John's, she led him gently from the room. I afterward fancied she acted in this way to prevent me from speaking to him. It was a needless precaution on her part. CHAPTER XII. My mind had been so much occupied that I had not thought of the allusion Mr. Howard ?J~ ~i-vr*n ?a fn aii?? korinrv onnflior imu UUIUC, 1U ic^aiu vv uui ait* *?*-.? ?*uw?v/* friend in Cuba, besides Owen Morris. In all probability, the subject would never have occurred to me again, except from the following circumstance, for the only other person who ever knew anything of our family history was Nellie's father, and we had heard of his death several years before. I was sitting in my own room one morning, when a letter was handed me. I observed, on taking it, that it bore a foreign post-mark, and then I recognized the hand writing. It was from Owen Morris, and this is what he said to me: "You will no doubt be surprised when you see the signature to this letter. I make no excuse for writing to you, after your urgent request that I should not do so. If, on reading this, you blame me, I shall be grieved; but I shall never regret having written to you, for I consider it an act of duty. "1 shall not weary you with an account of all that has happened to me since you sent me away, but proceed at once to the object of this letter. "Some months since, I was sent for to attend a man who had been brought into the hospital from oneof the ships in the harbor. I found him desperately ill with brain fever. In his delirium he disclosed the fact that he was the father of your sister Nellie, -fortunately,! was mooniy person near him at the time,"and I need not tell you that his secret is safe with me. "He is now convalescent, and speaks of returning to the United States. I am endeavoring to dissuade him from this, knowingthat it will cause you trouble, should he do so. He says ho owns property in your neighborhood, which he must look after. I do not know where it is situated, or even if he is telling me the truth in making this statement; but I considered it best to write you the above facts, that you might be somewhat propared for the appearance of one whom you thought to bo no longer living. I hope you are not ollended with mo for writing to you. 1 should not have presumed to do so, wore it not that I may aid you in shielding those you love so dearly from suffering. This is my only excuse. "But now that I am writing, I cannot resist the impulse which bids me say to you, that in spite of separation and utter silence between us, my feelings toward you are unchanged. Even when you sent me away, you did not doubt my love. Believe it is now as it was then. I sometimes fancy that this man?your stop-father?may have been the cause of my having been discarded by you. Ah ! my darling, if this is all, let mo come back to you ! Now that I know you are to 1 >o liarrassed ami annoyed, and perhaps grieved, I feel, more than ever, that I ought to be near you. May I come ? As ever, yours, Owen Morris." It was well that I was alone when I read this letter. I forgot all that was unpleasant in it, and remembered only that Owen Morris loved me! He was right. Nellie's father was the cause of my giving him up ; but the same cause existed now as then, and much as I longed to see him, I could not write for him to come. I knew there was no one I could call upon to aid me in the coming struggle; j but I had lived through the greatest sorrow j my life could ever know, and I must likewise i live through this, with no loving heart to cheer j and comfort me. As to my conduct for the future, I found it j * - - a 4-rv *k!nlr aP fkof TIAUT WflQ if i WilS lUJjJUSSIUlC LU Ullilin. U1 bum uu?? ?u > , very silly in me? I had been waiting so long for kind and loving words, and now they had come when I thought I should never hear them again on this earth, and when I had j learned to look forward to that "better conn- j try," with all the more longing. I was still sitting with the letter in my I hand when Mary entered the room. "How happy you look, Mattie!" she ex-: claimed "you must have heard some good j news. Was your letter from Nellie?" "No, darling, only from an old friend. You ; know it is always pleasant for old folks, like j myself, to hear they are held in kind reraem-! brance by those from whom they have been 1 separated for a long time. I suppose it was that thought which made me smile." Just then I heard John's voice calling me,' and I hurried down to see him. On reaching 1 the parlor, I found Henrietta and Mr. Howard 1 awaiting me. It was their first visit since the day Mary fainted. Henrietta was all affection, but I knew her visit to Elmwood was i from some other motive than merely to make a display of her devotion. My conjecture j scflto proved to be correct. "I suppose, Mr. Leslie has been too much occupied to call on our new neighbor," was her first remark. "I did not know we had a new neighbor," ! I said in surprise, "who is it?" "I thought you knew that Mr. Harris had rented out his place to a Mr. English. I hear he is rich, and therefore a catch. He is not i very young, so, perhaps, you would like to set j your cap for him." "I am much obliged to you for the suggestion, but I do not care to enter the lists against you." "Oh! you need not be afraid of me. I am not at liberty to do anything of that kind." As she said this, she gave Mr. Howard a meaning glance. He must have noticed it, but was apparently perfectly indifferent to our conversation. I think he seemed rather annoyed that Henrietta should have mentioned, so abruptly, the subject of our new neighbor to me; for as soon as she had" finished speaking he said? "You must not believe all you hear, Miss Mattie. I should not be surprised, now, if you knew more of this gentleman than any of us. He is the person who was making so many enquiries of Owen Morris, regarding your family." "Did you say his name was English ?" I asked. "Yes; William Euglish." "Then, I do not know him ; I never heard the name before." "It is strange he should be so much interested in you, when you do not know him," said Henrietta. "Perhaps he was a friend of my father's. You know he resided in Cuba for several years, and I suppose must have made many acquaintances while there." "Very likely that ia the reason he takes such an interest in the Elmwood household," said Mr. Howard. The last remark was made in such a sneering tone, that I looked at the speaker in astonishment. I then saw what I had suspected all along?Owen Morris was not the only one who knew our family secret. This man knew it also. It would have been needless to tell me that "Mr. William English" was my step-father, for I felt convinced of the fact already. I was not surprised, when, on taking leave, Mr. Howard said? "Miss Mattie, with your permission, I will hrinor Mr. English over to see vou. He has O - O " " f requested me to do so.'' "We can have no objection to receiving any friend of yours, Mr. Howard," said I, looking him steadily in the eye. He bowed and thanked me. [to be continued next week.] UliscrUimeousi For the Yorkville Enquirer. THE REQUIREMENTS OF A TEACHER. The profession of a teacher is something most beautiful?most sublime : to love the youths under his care as a parent, to fit and prepare them for life, to elevate and make them good men. What ought he to be? He has to know all that he will teach, and still more. He must be pious, and diligent in every thing, earnest and friendly toward his pupils, just and reasonable, strict and attentive. His aim must be to bring his pupils to perfection, that they may learn not only a few useful matters, but, if possible, all. He has to regard the pupils under his care as tender little plants, needing his love?his whole heart, and full of hope and confidence will they look up to him. So are the little flowers in meadows, woods and gardens, confidently looking up to the sky, longing now for rain, now for sunshine, for their growth and prosperity. Therefore, not even for one hour, ought the teacher to forget what he owes to his pupils. There will always be something needed amongst them, and to them he has to give every care and attention. Naughtiness and wantonness are not always wickedness of the heart, and apparent laziness is sometimes only awkwardness of the child, caused by the teacher's negligence. He has to see that his pupils study diligently, and he must know in what manner to give the material to them, that they may like it and accept it with joyfulness. Then the school will be to them a pleasure, and not a burden. Those who generally sit at the head of a class are not always the best. Many a one will be neglected because the teacher does not like him. He has to sit on the last bench, and yet he has a true soul and a clear head. Further, the teacher must endeavor to gain entirely the hearts of his pupils. He ought to regard them as his own children, so that they will delight to hear him, aud give him their entire confidence. To exercise such a power over them, he must appear always friendly, but considerate; just, but not unfeeling; strict, but not unkind. Never must he expect anything too difficult, not to mention impossibilities ; never promise any thing that he does not fulfill; never threaten what he does not execute; and he should appear always the same in every respect. Under such circumstances the pupils will cling to him with their whole heart, and obey him with gladness. He has to condescend to the level | of his pupils, for he can learn from them i every day. His attention has to be directed to the way they take a thing into consideration?how they feel,and what they want; for this is all quite different from what it is with grown people. After this, he has, in mildness, to eulighten them in regard to their mistakes and weaknesses. To be looking always serious would make the pupils afruid and vexed ; yet too much kindness would, like sweetmeats, spoil their stomachs. To be just must be his first duty, and the respect and love of the pupils will follow. Have no favorites; deal with every one alike, whether rich or poor. Iu this way, what the sun is to the earth, the teacher will be to his school; and light, life, growth and fruit will be the beautiful and sublime reward. H. N. A Charleston Parallel to tiie Bender Butcheries.?The recent revelations in regard to the atrocious murders committed by the Bender family, in Kansas, wil) probably recall to the minds of some of the older citizens of Charleston a similar series of mur-! ders that occurred near this city, more than half a century ago. In that day, travelers did not enjoy the facilities of railroad trans-1 portation, and in consequence there were many little wayside inns scattered along the public highways, some adjacent to the cities, and others more remote. Such an inn was kept a few miles from Charleston. Being near the city, it was quite common for travelers, going or returning, to stop for rest and refreshments. It was kept by two people, a man Rnd his J wife, who were accounted to be honest and withal, very prosperous persons. Their hostel- j ry was convenient to the traveling public, 1 and therefore popular. Occasionally, a trav-' eler would suddenly disappear in a very mys- J terious and unaccountable manner; but no, suspicion attached to the hospitable inn-keep-1 er and his wife. Matters went on thus for some time, the mysterious disappearances meanwhile becomiug more and more frequent. Fathers, sons and brothers going to or from Charleston would suddenly^.be missing, and i no possible clue to their whereabouts could ; be obtained. Public excitement as may be ! supposed, was wrought up to the highest pitch,: until finally there came a sudden and horri-! ble solution to the mystery. One night?so tradition saith?a belated j i traveler, on his way to Charleston, stopped at; j the inn. Sitting at the inn, in the bar, sip- j j ping his toddy, it suddenly occurred to him | that the actions of his host and hostess were ' [ somewhat peculiar. The fate of other travel I ers in that section probably made his sense of S danger more than usually acute, and he re-j solved to be sharply on the alert. He was shown to his room by his obliging host, and when the steps of the latter died away on the stair, he made a careful inspection of the surroundings. He discovered, among other things, that the bed on which he was expected to sleep was ingeniously fitted in slides, so that it could be lowered with ease to the ground-floor beneath. Other circumstances convincing him that he was in a trap of some kind, he blew out his light and patiently awaited developments. A little after midnight, he heard stealthy steps on the stairs, and he immediately put himself in a position ! to defend himself. The steps drew nearer and nearer, and finally the door, which was guHtless of either lock or latch, was cautiously opened, and the hospitable host stepped in. The traveler felled him with a chair, and made his escape to the city, closely pursued by both man and wife, who followed him nearly to the city limits. Information was at once conveyed to the authorities, and a guard was sent out to the inn and the wretches arrested. The investigation that followed revealed a pit below the room in which the traveler was liotro rootorl Tn tliia nit. \vprfi found the W ..?TV, r- " | remains of all who had so mysteriously disappeared. The spectacle was a most ghastly one, and the revelation of such atrocity created, in that primitive day, a much more I intense thrill of horror through the country than the Bender butcheries, and justice was | | swift in overtaking the murderer and his accomplice. THE ONLY FEMALE MASON* I The Hon. Elizabeth St. Leger was the only female who was ever initiated into the mystery of Freemasonry. She has had two degrees, the first and second, conferred on her. As it may be interesting to the general reader, we give the story as to how Miss Leger obtained this honor, promising that the information comes from the best of sources. Lord Doneraile, Miss St. Leger's father, a very zealous Mason held a warrant, and occasionally opened lodge at Doneraile House, his sons and some intimate friends assisting; and it is i^id that never were Masonic duties more rigorously performed than by the brethren of No. 15, the number of their warrant. It appears that previous to the initiation of a gentleman to the first degree of Masonry, Miss St. Leger, who was a young girl, happened to be in an apartment adjoining the room generally used as a lodge room, but whether the young lady was there by design or merely accident, we cannot confidently state. The rnnm nt. the time was undergoing some altera *wv"" "" ?? ' o o tion ; among other thing9 the wall was considerably reduced in one part for the purpose of making a saloon. The young lady having heard the voices of Freemasons, and being incited by the curiosity natural to all to see this mystery, so long and so secretly locked up from the public view,had the courage to pick a brick from the wall with her scissors and thus witness the two first steps of the ceremony. Curiosity gratified, fears at once took possession of her mind, and those who understand this passage well know what the feeling of any person must be who could unlawfully behold that ceremony; let them judge what were the feelings of a young girl under such extraordinary circumstances. There was no mode of escape except through the very room where the concluding part of the second step was still being solemnized at the far end, and the room a very large one. Miss St. Leger had resolution enough to attempt her escape that way, and, with light but trembling steps, glided along unobserved, laid her hand on the handle of the door and opened it; but before her stood to her dismay, a grim tiler with his long sword unsheathed. A shriek that pierced through the apartments alarmed the members of the lodge who, all rushing to the door, and finding that Miss St. Leger had been in the room during the ceremony, resolved it is said in the paroxysm of their rage, to put the lair spectatress to death, but at the moving and earnest supplication of her youngest brother, her life was spared on condition of hef going through the two reraaiuing steps of the solemn ceremony she had unlawfully witnessed. This she consented to, and they conducted the beautiful and terrified young lady through those trials which are sometimes more than enough for masculine resolution, little thinking they were taking into the bosom of their craft a member that would reflect a lustre on the annals of Masonry. Miss St. Leger was cousin to General Anthony St. Leger who instituted the interesting race and celebrated Doncaster St. Leger stakes. Eventually she married Richard Aldworth, Esq., of Newmarket a member of a highly honorable and ancient family. Whenever a benefit was given at any of the theatres in Dublin or Cork, for the Masonic Female ! Orphan Asylum, Mrs. Aldworth walked at I the head of Freemasons with apron and other I insignia of Freemasonary, and satin the front row of the stage box. The house was always crowded on these occasions. The portrait of I this estimable woman is in the lodge room of I : almost every lodge in Ireland. ANECDOTE* oirMYEBSTER. Daniel Webster was a firm believer in divine revelation and a close student of its sacred pages. On one occasion a small company of select friends spent an evening at his i house. Tea over, the Bible and the relative I . . ? . ' , , x . beauties ot its several parts Decame me lupiu ; of conversation. Each one of the guests had a preference. When the turn came to Webster | he said ; "The masterpiece of the New Tes-j i tament, of course is the sermon on the mount;! that has 110 rival, no equal. As to the Old Testament writings, my favorite book is that ' of Habakkuk, and my favorite verses chap-1 ter iii: 17, 18. 'Although the fig-tree shall : not blossom, neither shall the fruit be in the : vine; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the 1 fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be 1 cut off*, aud there shall be 110 herd in the stall;' yet will I rejoice in the Lord and join in the j God of my salvation.' This," continued Webster, "I regard as one of the sublimest Passages of inspired literature ; and often have j wondered that some artist, equal to the task, had not selected the prophet aud his sense ofj desolation as the subject of a painting. '".When in Paris, some years ago," continued 1 Mr. Webster, "I received an account of a ' French infidel, who happened to find iu a : drawer of his library some stray leaves of an i unknown volume. Although in the constant j habit of denouncing the Bible, like most infidel writers, he had never read any part of it. These fugitive leaves contained the above j prayer of Habakkuk. Being a man of fine literary taste, he was captivated with its poet*, ic beauty, and hastened to the club-house to j announce the discovery to his associates. Of j course, they were anxious to know the name of the gifted author, to which enquiries the i elated infidel replied ; *A writer by the name of Habakkuk, of course, a Frenchman.' Judge of the infidel's surprise when informed that the passage he was so enthusiastically admiring was not produced by one of his own countrymen, nor even by one of his own class of so-called freethinkers, but was penned by one of God's ancient prophets, and was contained in that much despised book, the Bible." iAitheran Observer. A FRIGHTFUL TORNADO. A telegram from Washington, Iowa, dated Friday, gives the following particulars of a terrific tornado which passed over that section Thursday afternoon: Its path was about half a mile in width, and it tore into fragments everything in its course. Houses, barns, trees, fences, cattle and human beings were caught up and whirled through the air like mere toys, and then dashed to the ground with such violence as to produce instant destruction. Houses and barns were torn into fragments and scattered iir'all directions, and for miles around the fields were dotted with large timbers, driven into the ground at an angle of ninety degrees. Cattle were, actually, driven headforemost into the ground. One can scarcely conceive the devastation or realize the force of the tornado. Already we have heard of thirteen farm-houses and several . ... ... . j bams that were literally torn to pieces, ana many others that were badly damaged. At a school-house six miles north of here, school was in session, and the tornado tore the building to pieces, and carried a fourteen year old daughter of Henry Rothwell's about a quarter of a mile. When found she was mashed into a jelly. Miss Smith, the teacher, and six or eight scholars were injured, some of them severely. The wife of Henry Walters was killed. A Miss Gardner and a son of Abe Gibson are at the point of death. Jacob Seek was seriously hurt in the back. The family of J. Campbell, near Kiota, were injured. A Miss McCoy was seriously hurt. A gentleman who was near the tornado reports that it was baloon-shaped, with the small end to the ground, and moved at the rate of twenty miles per hour. It began its fearful work near Kiota, where it demolished several houses. We next hear of it about six miles north-west, where it destroyed two or three houses, and as it passed on north-east, scattered to the four winds the fine residences and barns of Alexander Uioson, ?j. a. joaocock and J. C. Collingham. It leveled to the ground the dwellings of D. Comer, F. and H. Waters, Wra. C'orringer and Mr. Kerr. The livf 3 of many persons were saved by their has'ily getting into the cellars of their houses. Sad havoc was made with all kinds of stock. From the description of an eye-witness, it seems almost a miracle that anything in its track escaped alive. He says he could see large pieces of timber hurled from the cloud as though shot from a cannon. Hail stones fell that measured nine inches in diameter. Some were brought to this city, and four hours after they were picked up, were still as large as hen eggs. The roaring of the tornado was heard ten miles ; at this place, six miles away, it was perfectly appalling, surpassing in terror anything ever heard in war, or the din of a terrible battle. A telegram from Kiota, last evening, says five persons were killed about three miles from that place; one child was torn to pieces. Reports received thus far are from only a few points along the line of the terrible destroyer, and the amount of damage cannot be estimated, but it must amount to many thousands. Many more lives were lost than roported, and no estimate can be made of the stock killed. Nothing so terrible has ever befallen this section of the country, and it is considered a miracle that so few lives were lost. ? A WORTHY EXAMPLE. The Richmond correspondent of the Petersburg Appeal furnishes the following: "More than two years ago, a young gentleman of this city, a son of a well-known banker, grad uated with distinction at the University ot Virginia, and came home preparatory to entering upon his profession of civil engineer. While here he determined, in order the better to fit himself for practical professional life, to serve an apprenticeship in a machine shop. Accordingly, his father paid five hundred dollars to a firm of Baltimore machinists for the privilege of entering him in the large establishment over which they presided, with the understanding that he was to be treated as other workmen, except that in consideration ofhis theoretical attainment his apprenticeship should be only two years in duration, and that assoon as he deemed himself proficient in the details of one department, he should be allowed to go into another. The young man went to Baltimore, entered the shops, and with an energy and decision of character as commendable as uncommon, has now nearly served out his term. He entered as helper at an anvil in a blacksmith's shop, and having passed through all the various departments of a mammoth iron working establishment, is now at the head of the draughtsmen, having worked his way up by merit alone. In such high esteem are his services held by his employers, that so far from charging him for his opportunities for the acquisition of information which their works afford, they now offer him a salarv of three thousand dollars a year to remain with them in a position, the duties of which are not only light and agreeable, but in perfect accord with his tastes. He will decline, however, for the present, and will take a vacation this summer for the purpose of inspecting objects of interest to his profession that may be found in Northern shops and foundries. I do not know that it will be agreeable to him or his relatives for these facta to be published, but I shall not consult them, for the example is one which ought to be held up to young men who need encouragement in their search, for success in life. The name of the young gentleman is John Dove Isaacs. He is the eldest son of \Vm. B. Isaacs, Esq., of Richmond, and the name-sake and grandson of Dr. Jno. Dove, the eminent Mason." Electric Fisiies.?The action of electric fishes may be likened to that of lightniug, in being independent of our intention. The shocks of the gymuotus are particularly formidable. Alexander Humboldt relates that, having put both of his feet on one of these fish, just taken from the water, he experienced so violent a shock that he felt pains in all his joints the rest of the day. These shocks throw the strongest animals down, and it is necessary to avoid rivers frequented by the gymnotus, because, in attempting to ford them, horses or mules might be killed by the discharges. To capture these fish the Indians drive wild horses into the water, stirring the eels up out of the mud by their trampling. The yellowish, livid creatures press against the horses under their bellies, throw down the greater part, and kill some of them, but, exhausted in turn, they are then easily taken, with the aid of small harpoons. The savages employ them to cure paralysis. Faraday compares the shock of a gymnotus, which he had an opportunity to study, to that of a strong battery of fifteen jars. A live eel out of water, when touched by the hand, communicates a shock strong in proportion to the extent of surface in contact, and the stroke is felt up to the shoulder, and followed by a very unpleasant numbness. It may be transmitted through twenty persons in a chain, the first one touching the back and the last one the belly of the eel. The fishermen discover the presence of an eel in their nets by experiencing a shock in throwing pailfuls of water on to wash them. AVater is a good conductor, and this fish kills or benumbs the animais 11 feeds on by delivering a discharge through the water. THE JASTCUBE. HaW8 Journal of Health contains the following remarks relative to dyspepsia and other difficulties, which will be interesting to all concerned: It ought not to be an unusual fact that persons who are sent to jail, very uniformly come out at the end of a few months sleek and fat; so much so that often their best friends scarcely recognize them. If any man wants to be broken of liquor drinking or smoking cigars, he has only to have himself sent to the penitentiary. The celebrated individual in Wall street a few years ago, who "made paper" with such an unstinted hand, that is, forged names on notes and collected the money on them, was proven on the trial never to have been seen without a cigar in his mouth ; never to have been seen, without complaining of a headache, and bad a physician in daily attendance, who was more successful in getting pay than in curing the "paper" maker; he diagnosed and prognosed the state of the man's pocket better than the state of his constitution, for on being asked by the court why he collected $300 a quarter in advance for infinitesimal pellets he very gravely replied, he saw what would be the end of it, and that he had better secure himself while he could. This same "paper man" was sent to the penitentiary lor iour years; he fed on prison fare, plain and at regular times; never was allowed so much as a single puff; attended most assiduously to his duties as book-keeper; gained fifteen pounds of flesh in less than three months; served out his time; left the prison in robust health, went over to Jersey, and is said to be one of the most efficient Sunday school superintendents in all the "region round about" Penitentiary board will cure any curable case of dyspepsia; for it involves two essential things which are most potent remedies?plain food at five hours' interval, nothing between, and steady muscular exercise. The remedy will be as efficient out of a penitentiary as in it, but one man in a million will try it of his own accord. Plain food, taken at regular intervals, accompanied with moderate physical exercise, will cure any case of dyspepsia which can be cured at all; no medicine ever has or ever can cure that malady; nothing can cure it but a rested stomach and nourishing food. ? Why Coal Oil Lamps Explode.?A correspondent at Port Penn, Del., moved thereto by the terrible accident in New Castle Hundred, on Monday night, sends us the following suggestions in regard to the explosion of coal oil lamps. He says: When lamps are filled they cannot explode; but when partially filled, if not screwed tight, the space inside the lamp over the oil is filled with what is called "fire-damp" in coal-mines, viz: air and vapor of coal-oil or its gas. It is very remarkable that accidents with the best coal oil do not more frequently occur, especially when the flame is blown down the chimney in extinguishing a lamp which has been burning all night?and particularly if during the evening it burned freely and rrontoH n vnninm or snace above theoil. which was heated and subsequently cooled during the night when the lamp was turned down and left to burn with a very small flame. It is manifest that the higher priced oil is more apt to explode under these circumstances. The burner should be screwed down perfectly tight, and the wick should All the tube; moreover, be trimmed every day, and lowered before the lamp is blown out Anthracite ! coal stoves will explode, or any other fuel, upon throwing sand or dust on top of a fire when freely burning, so that the gas or product of combustion be forced into the ash-pit. Every one is familiar with the illustration in what are called "air-tight stoves," and no anxiety is necessary in using these or coal-oil lamps, if we recognize the cause of accident, and do not depend on a false security in the use of what are vulgarly called non-explosive oils. What Work will Do.?I have heard a groat deal said about hard times, and the bottom rail getting on top, and I have been bothered to know what it all means. I think I have struck it, however. The wool-hat boys and others who went to work after the surrender, are the parties that are getting on top and solving the vexed problem. They are the ones that are getting the greenbacks, and greenbacks constitute the lever that turns the wheel of fortune. I give one example : Three sons of T. J. H., of Worth county, last year, with two mules, raised twenty bales of cotton, seven hundred bushels of corn, besides oats and potatoes in abundance. They paid out fifty dollars for labor in chopping out and picking, and after settling all expenses, including bagging, ties, bacon, etc., they netted over twelve hundred dollars, and are ready to begin another year's labors. This is but one of the many similar exam-' V ITT ,1 ... J T"v 1? iL.i L pies in w ortn ana uooiy, umi u?v? jmicu under my immediate observation this last season, and it puts me in miDd of old times, when boys had to work. I wish I had a daughter to give to one of these young men when he gets old enough to marry. The industrious, working, faithful boys of this country are going to get on top, and no mistake. Labor and energy will place them there in spite of destiny. They will own the lands now growing up in sedge, and cultivate them, too, for it is a fact that where the white people are working and attending to their business the freedmen work well also; and such planters are making money.?Cor. AU bany (Ga.) News. A matron gives the following advice to girls: Girls talk and laugh about marriage as though it were a jubilee, a gladsome thing, a rose without a thorn. And so it is, if it is all right; if they go about it as rational beings, instead of merry-making children. It is a serious thing to marry. It is a life business, and that of heart and happiness. Therefore, never do it in haste; never run away to get married; neyer "steal a marriagenever marry for wealth, or standing, or fine person, or manners, but only for character, for worth, for the qualities of mind and heart which make an honorable man. Take time, think long and well before you accept any proposal; consult your parents, then some judicious friend, then your own judgment Learn all that it is possible for you to learn of your proposed husband; when all doubts have been removed, and not till then, accept him. Deatii of a Companion of Aaron Burr. An elderly man named Robert Fagan, who claimed to have been connected with the Burr-Blannerhasset expedition to establish a Western empire, died in Natchez, Misa., last week. He was more than 100 years old, and was in the possession of all his faculties, and followed his occupation of carpenter until a comparatively recent period; when he fell, receiving an injury about the head, from the effects of which he began gradually to sink. When an offer was made to send for a physician, he replied that it was no use, "that the machinery was worn out," and that he was about to die. Ripe with years, he died peacefully and without a struggle. 96?" An enterprising soap maker daubed the rocks all the way up the Hudson with the aj>peal "Use Smith's Soapwhereupon his rival, the still more enterprising Jones, after much cogitation, started bis whitewasher up the river to append to each of Mr. Smith's appeals, "If you can't get Jones's."