Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. cj-imst, proprietor. J |nbepenbtttf Jfamilw ftetospper: Jfor tjjc promotion of llje ^political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of tjje Sontjj. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, Ef ADTAKCF. VOL. 19. YORKYILLE, S. C? THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1873. 36. j^clcftcd fcrtnr. EARTH'S ANGELS. I never saw an angel, Except the ones in books: I don't believe a mortal Knows how an angel looks. We guess at something misty, With trailing wings of white, With amber tresses floating, And garments strangely bright. But I believe earth's angels Walk herein mortal guise, Though we discern but faintly Through heav'-liddcnl eyes, Or see them as t iov leave us, Who walked beside us here, Their angelhood quite hidden, Because it lived so near. I can remember angels, wno seenieu use vunnnuu Who wore old-fashioned bonnets, And laded winter cloaks; Who came when dire disaster Crowned leaser home mishap, Our younger claimants crowded The dear maternal lap; With curving arms wide open To take the weary in. With patient love to listen To childish want or s:n. What better thing could angels For childish sinners do, Than listen to their story, * And bid them promise new? I think of fireside angels, Upon whose faded hair There shone no crown of glory, And yet * he crown was there: When tender love, true hearted, Forgive the wrongs.it knew, And patient voice gave answer The days of trial through. Ah, me! the childish angel Who beckons as I write! Perchance I should not know him In mystic robe of white. He wears a schoolboy's jacket, And cap, and boo's to me, And when we walked at twilight, His head against my knee. There are dear mother angels? We each perchance know one? Whose robes of better glory Are daily being spun. With loving hands to guide us, With loving speech to cheer, Said I not well, earth angels | Walk daily with us here? ?he Jdflrg ?diet*. LOVE IN THE CLOUDS. "And this is the fellow that wants to marry my daughter ! A pretty fool I should be to give Annie to a coward like him !" So shouted honest Master Joss, the sacristan of the cathedral of Vienna, as he stood in the public room of the "Adam and Eve" inn, and looked after the angry, retreating figure of Master Ottkar, the head-mason. As he spoke an honest young gardener, named Gabriel, entered ; and, for a moment the youth's handsome face flushed high, as be thought the sacristan's words were directed at him. For it was the old, old story. Gabriel and Annie had played together and loved each other before they knew the meaning of the word love ; and when, a few month's before, they had found it out, and Gabriel proposed to make Annie his wife, her father rejected him with scorn. The young gardener j had little to offer besides an honest heart and a pair of industrious hands, while Master Ottkar, the mason, had both houses and money. To him, then, solely against her will, was the pretty Annie promised; and poor Gabriel 1 ^ftAAn!n^on'o nlnoeonf nnf. Kept awuy iiuui mc muswu o tage, manfully endeavoring to root out his love white exterminating itie weeds tn Ills garden. But somehow it happened that, although the docks and thistles withered and died, that other pertinacious plant, clinging and twining like the wild convolvulus, grew and flourished, nurtured, perchance, by an occasional distant glimpse of sweet Annie's pale cheek and drooping form. So matters stood, when one day, as Gabriel was passing through a crowded street, a neighbor hailed him : "Great news, ray boy! glorious news! Our Leopold has been chosen Emperor at Frankfort. Long live the house of Austria ! He is to make his triumphal entry here in a day or two. Come with me to the 'Adam and Eve,' and we will drink his health and hear all about it." In spite of his dejection, Gabriel would have been no true son of Vienna if he had refused this invitation ; and waving his cap in sympathy with his comrade's enthusiasm, he hastened with him to the inn. We have already seen how the unexpected appearance and more unexpected words of Master Joss met him on his entrance. In the height of his indignation the sacristan did not ^ observe Gabriel, and continued in the same tone: "I declare, I'd give this moment, full and free permission to woo and win ray daughter, to any honest young fellow who would wave the banner in my stead?ay, and think her well rid of that cowardly mason." From time immemorial it had heeu the miatnm in Vienna, whenever the Emperor made a triumphal entry, for the sacristan of the cathedral to stand on the pinnacle of the highest tower and wave a banner while the procession passed ; but Master Joss was old, stiff, and rheumatic, and such an exploit! would have been quite as much out of his ! line as dancing on a tight-rope. It was, therefore, needful for him to provide a substitute ; and it never occurred to him that his intended son-in-law, who professed such devotion to his interests, and whose daily occupation obliged him to climb to dizzy heights, and stand on slender scaffolding, could possibly object to take his place. ^ What, then, was his chagriu and indignaB tiou when, on broaching the matter that af- j B ternoon to Master Ottkar, he was met by a I W flat and not over-courteous refusal! The old I man made a hasty retort; words ran high, and the parting volley, leveled at the retreating mason, we have already reported. "Would you, dear Master Joss, would you indeed do so? Then, with the help of Providence, I'll wave the banner for you as long as you please from the top of St. Stephen's tower." "You, Gabriel?" said the old man looking at him as kindly as he was wont to do in former days. "My poor boy! you never could do it; you, a gardener, who never has had any practi2e in climbing." "Ah, now you want to draw back from your word !" exclaimed the youth, reddening. " ' .1 1 j :c "Aty neaa is sieauy enougn ; anu u m; umu is heavy, why, it was you who made it so. Never mind, Master Joss. Only promise me on the wo:.*d of an honest man, that you'll not interfere any more with Annie's free choice, and you may depend on seeing the banner of our Emperor, whom may Heaven long preserve ! wave gloriously on the old pinnacle." ^ "I will, my brave lad; I do promise, in the presence of all these honest folks, that Annie shall be yours!" said the sacristan, grasping Gabriel's hand with one of his, while he wiped his eyes with the back of the other. "One thing I have to ask you," said the young man, "that you will keep this matter a secret from Annie. She'd never consent; she'd say I was tempting Providence ; and who knows whether the thought of her displeasure might not make ray head turn giddy, just when I want it to be most firm and collected." "No fear of her knowing it, for I have sent her on a visit to her aunt two or three miles in the country." "And why did you send her from home, Master Joss?" "Because the sight of her pale face and weeping eyes troubled me; because I was ! vexed with her; because, to tell you the truth, I was vexed with myself. Gabriel, I was a hard-hearted old fool; I see it now. Aud I was very near destroying the happiness of ray only remaining child ; for ray poor'boy Arnold, your old friend and school-fellow, Gabriel, has been for years in foreign parts, . and we don't know what has become of him. But now, please God, Annie at least will be j happy, and you shall marry her, ray lad, as i soon after the day of the procession as you and she please. There's ray hand on it." There was not a happier man that evening within the precincts of Vienna than Gabriel, ; the gardener, although he well knew that he was attempting a most perilous enterprise, and J one as likely as not to result in his death. He made all necessary arrangements in case of j that event, especially in reference to the corai fort of an only sister who lived with hira, and | whom he was careful to keep in ignorance of ! his intended venture. This done, he resigned himself to dream all night of tumbling from I i ,,,,,4 ?11 /Iq\t <-,f liia nnnrnn^li ; leiiitii; uci^uio, <\nvt an uuj \ji mv j ing happiness. Meanwhile, Ottkar swallowed ! his chagrin as he best might, and kept aloof ; from Master Joss ; but he might have been ' seen holding frequent and secret communicai tions with Lawrence, a man who assisted the ! sacristan in the care of the church. The day of the young Emperor's triumph! al entry arrived. He was not expected to i reach Vienna before eveniug ; and at the ap| pointed hour the sacristan embraced Gabriel, j and, giving him the banner of the House of ! Austria, gorgeously embroidered,said : "Now, my boy, up in God's name! Follow Lawrence ; he'll guide you safely to the top of the spire, and afterward assist you in coming down." Five hundred and fifty steps to the top of the tower! Mere child's play?the young gardener flew them up with a joyous step. Then came two hundred wooden stairs over the clock tower and belfry ; then five steep I ladders up the narrow pinnacle. Courage ! A few more bold steps?half an hour of peril?then triumph, reward, the priest's blessing, and the joyful "Yes!" before the altar. Ah! how heavy was the banner to drag upward?how dark the straight, stony shaft! Hold, there is the trap-door. Lawrence, and an assistant who accompanied him, pushed Gabriel through. *?T have it!" cried Lawrence ; "you'll see the iron steps and the clamps to hold on by outside?only keep your head steady. When 'tis your turn to comedown, hail us, and we'll throw you a rope-ladder with hooks. Farewell !" As he said these words, Gabriel had passed through the trap-door, and with feet and hands clinging to the slender iron projections, felt himself hanging over a tremendous precipice, while the cold evening breeze ruffled his hair. He had still, burdened as he was with the banner, to steady himself on a part of the spire sculptured in the similitude of a rose, and then, after two or three daring steps still higher, to bestride the very pinnacle and wave his gay old flag. "May God be merciful to me!" sighed the poor lad, as glancing downward on the busy streets, lying so far beneath, the whole exteut j of his danger dashed upon him. He felt so lonely, so utterly forsaken in that desert of the upper air, and the cruel wind strove with him, and struggled to wrest the heavy banner from his hand. "Annie, Annie, 'tis for thee 1" he murmured, and the sound of that sweet name nerved him to endurance. He wound his left arm firmly around the bar which supported the golden star, surmounted by a crescent; CTIat servecTas a weathercock, and" with his right waved the flag, which flapped and rustled like the wing of some mighty bird of prey. The sky?how near it seemed?grew dark above his head, and the lights and bonfires glanced upward from the great city below. But the cries of rejoicing came faintly on his ear, until long continued shouts, mingled with the sound of drums and trumpets, announced the approach of Leopold. "Huzza! huzza! long live the Emperor!" shouted Gabriel, and waved his banner proudly. But the deepening twilight and the dizzy height rendered liini unseen and unheard by ; the busy crowd below. The deep voice of the cathedral clock tolled the hour. "Now my task is ended," said Gabriel, ; drawing a deep sigh of relief, and shivering j in the chilly breeze. "Now I have only to get <lown and give the signal." More heedfully and slowly than he had ascended, he began his descent. Only once he looked upward to the golden star and crescent, now beginning to look colorless against the dark sky. "Ha!" said he, "doesn't it look now as if that heathenish Turk of a crescent were nodding and wishing me an evil 'good night?' Be quiet, Mohammed!" A few courageous steps landed him once 1 more amidst the petals of the gigantic seulp1 tured rose, which offered the best, indeed, the ' only coin of vantage for his feet to rest on. ! He furled his banner tightly together, and j shouted : "Halloa, Lawrence! Albert! here ! throw me up the ladder and hooks." No answer. More loudly and shrilly did Gabriel reiterate the call. Not a word, not a stir below. "Holy Virgin ! can they have forgotten me? Or have they fallen asleep ?" cried the poor fellow aloud ; and the sighing wind seemed to answer like a mocking demon. "What shall I do ? What will become of me?" Now enveloped in darkness, he dared not stir one hair-breadth to the right or to .the left. A painful sensation of tightness across | his chest, and his soul grew bitter within him. j "They have left me here of set purpose," be muttered through his clenched teeth. "The i torches below will shine on my crushed body." Then, after a moment: | "No, no; the sacristan could not find it in his heart; men born of woman could not do it. They will come ; they must come." But when they did not come, and the pitiless darkness thickened around him, so that he could not see his hand, his death-anguish I grew to the pitch of insanity. "God!" he cried, "the emperor will not suffer such barbarity. Noble Leopold, help! ! One word from you would save me." But the cold night-wind, blowing ominously ' around the tower, seemed to answer: "Here I alone am Emperor, and this is my domain." While this was passing, two men stood controrcinrr tnrrof llftl- ft t (hp ftnmftl- nf <1 Hjll-!f strfftf. . ",v WV'"V4 V4 *' aloof from the rejoicing crowd. "Haven't I managed it well ?" asked one. I "Yes ; he'll never reach the ground alive, unless the sacristan?" 1 "Oh! 110, the old man is too busy with his ; son, who came home unexpectedly an hour f ago. He'll never think of that fool Gabriel until?" ' "Until 'tis too late. How did you get rid j of Albert?" ! "By telling him that Master Joss had un1 dertaken to go himself and fetch the gardener ' down. The trap-door is fast, and no one with: in call. But I think, Master Ottkar, you and I may as well keep out of the way till the fellow has dropped down, like a ripe apple from the stem." And so the two villains took their way down ! a narrow street, and appeared no more that night. j Meantime, a dark shadowy fiend sat on one | of the leaves of the sculptured rose, and hissed in Gabriel's ear: "Renounce thy salvation, and I will bring thee down in safety." "May God preserve me from such sin," cried the poor lad, shivering. "Or only promise to give me your Annie, ! and I'll save you." "Will you hold your tongue, you wicked ! spirit?" "Or just say that you'll make me a present j I of your first-born child, and I'll bear you away as softly as if you were floating on down." "Avaunt, Satan! I'll have nothing to do. with gentlemen who wear horns and a tail!" cried Gabriel manfully. The clock tolled again, and the gardener,' aroused by the sound and vibration, perceived , i that ho had been asleep. Yes, he had actual- j ly slumbered, standing on that dizzy point, ! suspended over that fearful abyss. "Am I really here?" he asked himself, as he awoke; "or is it all a frightful dream that I have had while lying in my bed ?" ' ? ? 11 J 1. A C0I(1 SlUUHier passeu inrougu ins naiuv-, followed by a burning heat, and he grasped | i the pinnacle with a convulsive tightness. A j j voice seemed to whisper in his ear: "Fool! this is death, that unknown anguish | which no man shall escape. Anticipate the j moment, and throw thyself down." "Must I, then, die?" murmured Gabriel, j while the cold sweat started from his brow.; "Must 1 die while life is so pleasant? 0,1 j Annie, Annie ! pray for me; the world is so ' j beautiful, and life is so sweet." Then it seemed as if soft white wings floated ! above and around him, while a gentle voice ! j whispered: 1 "Awake! Awake!! The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Look up and be comforted." Wrapped in the banner, whose weight | helped to preserve his equilibrium, Gabriel ; still held on with his numbed arm, and with a sensation almost of joy, watched the first ! dawn lighting up the rool's of the city. Far below, in the sacristan's dwelling, the j 1 old man sat, fondly clasping the hand of a j handsome, sunburned youth, his long lost son, 1 i Arnold, who had sat by his side the livelong i night, recounting the adventures which had I j befallen hint in foreign lands, without either ! father or son feeling the want of sleep. At length Arnold said : "I am longing to see Annie, father. I dare cnu cVit? line nrrriwn a fina frirl. How is mV i i ""J u,,v b s . | i friend Gabriel, who used to be so fond of her j when we were all children together?" The sacristan sprang from his scat. "Gabriel! Holy Virgin ! I had quite i forgotten hira." A rapid explanation followed. Master Joss and his son hastened toward the cathedral and met Albert on the way. "Where is Gabriel ?" cried the sacristan. "I don't know ; I have not seen him since he climbed through the trap door." "But who helped him down ?" "Why, you, yourself, of course," replied Albert, with a look of astonishment. "Lawrence told me, when we came down, that you had undertaken to do it." # "0, the villains, the double-dyed scoundrels. Now I understand it all," groaned the old man. "Quick! Arnold! Albert! Come, for the lore of God ; look up, look up to the spire!" Arnold rushed toward the square, and his keen eye, accustomed to look out at great dis1 tances at sea, discerned through the gray, uncertain morning twilight, something fluttering on the spire. "'Tis he! It must be he, still living!" '0, God !" cried Master Joss, "where are my keys? 0, that we may not be too late!" The keys were found in the old man's pockallii jVig llx?\rvn? j drnl-gate, darted up the stairs, the sacristan, ; in the dread excitement of the moment, movj iug as swiftly as his young companions. Albert, knowing the trick of the trap-door, i went through it first. j "Call out to him, lad !" exclaimed Master I Joss. A breathless pause. "I hear nothing stirring," said Albert, "nor can I see anythiug from this. I'll climb over the rose." Bravely did he surmount the perilous projection ; and after a few moments of intense anxiety, he reappeared at the trap-door. "There certainly is a figure standing on the rose, but it isn't Gabriel?'tis a ghost!" I "A ghost! you dreaming dunderhead,"! ! shouted Arnold. "Let me up!" And he bej gan to climb with the agility of a cat. Presently he called out: "Come on, come j I on as far as you can. I have him, thank j j God ! But quick ; time is precious." Speedily and deftly they gave him aid ; and i | at length a half-unconscious figure, still wrapped iu the banner, was brought down in safety. They bore him into the "Adam and Eve," laid him in a warm bed, and poured by de- : grees a little wine down his throat. Under i this treatment he soon recovered his conscious' ness, and began to thank his deliverers. Sud-1, ' denly his eye fell on a mirror hanging on the J wall opposite the bed, and he exclaimed : "Wipe the hoar-frost off my hair, and that j' yellow dust from off my cheeks !" In truth, his curled locks were white, his i < rosy cheeks yellow and wrinkled, and his ] bright eyes dim and sunken ; but neither dust | ! nor hoar-frost was there to wipe away?that \ ( | one night of horror had added forty years to i his age. In the course of that day numbers who had 1 heard of Gabriel's adventure crowded to the [' | inn and sought to see him ; but none were ad-11 | mitted save the three who sat continually by j ' his bedside?his weeping young sister, the i J j brave Arnold, and Master Joss, the most un- j ( I happy of all; for his conscience ceased not to j ! say, in a voice that would be heard : "You ; 1 ! alone are the cause of all this !" By way of i ' I a little self-comfort, the sacristan used to ex- j1 claim at intervals: "If I only had hold of j ! that Lawrence ! If I once had that Ottker . by the throat 1" But both worthies kept care- 11 fully out of sight; nor were they ever again j seen in the fair city of Vienna. "Ah !" said Gabriel, toward evening, " 'tis j 1 ! all over between me and Annie. She would 1 clmrlrlor nt fbfl einrht. nf an nld. wrinkled. ! gray-haired fellow like me." No one answered. His sister hid her face ; on the pillow, while her bright ringlets min- j ! gled with his poor gray locks ; and Arnold's 1 ] handsome face grew very sad as he thought, ! 1 | "The poor fellow is right; there are few things ! i that young girls dislike more than gray hairs J? and yellow wrinkles." ! i "I have one request to make of you all,' ] dear friends," said Gabriel, painfully raising | f himself on his couch ; "do not let Annie know 1 | a word of this. Write to her that I am dead, j i and she'll mind it less, I think ; then I'll go j I into the forest and let the wolves eat me if; < they will. 1 want to save her from pain." 1 I "A line way, indeed, to save Anuie from i pain !" cried a well-known voice, while a light t figure rushed toward the bed, and clasped the ' i poor sufferer in a close and long embrace, i j "My own true love! you were never more 11 beautiful in my eyes than now. And pretend 1 i that you were dead ! A likely story, while < every child in Vienna is talking of my poor i * ' * * i i . i n i_ _ _ _ x I . boys adventure. Ana let yourseir oc eaieu by wolves ! No, no, Gabriel ; you wouldn't treat your poor Annie so cruelly as that!" j A regular hail-storm of kisses followed ; and it is said?how truly I know uqt-that, \ somehow in the general melee Arnold's lips came into wonderfully close contact with the ) rosy ones of Gabriel's little sister. Certainly, j : he was heard the next day to whisper into his , friend's ear: "A fair exchange is no robbery, j my boy. I think if you tako my sister, the 1 : least you can do is to give mc yours." It does not appear that any objectiou was made in any quarter. Love and hope proved . wonderful physicians ; for although Gabriel's ' hair to the end of his life remained as white as snow, his cheeks and eyes, ere the wedding day arrived, had resumed their former tint and brightness. A happy man was Master Joss on the day that he gave his blessing to the two young couples?the day wh?h Gabriel's sore-tried love found its reward in the hand of his Annie. Ipswltattcousi ftcmlittif. j r . v. : I For tlie Yorkville Enquirer. THE SOUTH CAROLINA UNIVERSITY. Mr. Editor:?Your readers will doubtless . be interested in the changes that are proposed in this old seat of learning, formerly the pride of every Carolinian. Except by a change of the State constitution,-na change can be made ; that would abrogate the University feature of the institution ; but to render the University i more efficient and useful, the trustees propose I to so modify the course of study as to com-: prehend the five following departments : FiraL?A GRAMMAR SCHOOL. This will J be opened on the 6th of next October, with a ' four years course of English and classical stu- j dies. Those who go through this course will \ be prepared for active business, or to enter j any one of the four higher colleges of the University. JSTo charge will be made for tuition, j and students can enter it with such prepara-j tiou as they have acquired in the free schools ; of the State, viz : ability to read, write, spell, | and perform the ordinary operations in addi-! tion, subtraction, multiplication aud division. I Those more advanced, can enter a higher class i and sooner complete the course. The pupils ! will be under the immediate control of a ' Principal; but they will go to the different j lecture rooms at stated hours, and be taught j by the various professors of the University, j and have the use of such parts of the appara-' tus as are appropriate to their studies. This j will be a first-class graded Grammar school, j to form the connecting link between the free j school and the University. Such a school j should be organized by the State in each county, free to all; but until this can be accomplished, the University proposes to do this work. Second.?1The trustees will open a College of Literature and Arts, with eight professors. Here students will find the old routine of Freshman, Sophomore, Junior and Seuior classes, and to obtain the degree of Bachelor of Arts, they must accomplish the studies of these classes or their equivalents. The usual requisites to admission to the Freshman class will be required, but any deficiency of preparation may be supplied in the Grammar school. Third.?There will be a College of Science and Philosophy, with six professors. This school will give a full course of English, mathematics, mental, moral and experimental sciences, the full course required in the College of Arts, except the foreign languages. It will be a useful, practical course for business men, and may be completed in two years, and this course, with Latin, will be a valuable preparatory course to the studies of law or~meaic4rrr. TWrc who complete it will receive the degree of Bachelor of Philosophy. Fourth.?The College of Law, with four professors. One to instruct iu purely legal studies, and three in those other studies necessary to the successful practice of the profession. The course of study in this school embraces two years; but students may enter advanced, and accomplish the course in a correspondingly shorter period. Those who complete this course will receive the degree of LL. B., and be entitled to practice law in this State. Fifth.?The College of Medicine, with six professors and teachers. Four to instruct in the various departments of medicine and surgery, and two in the necessary scientific and literary studies. These schools and colleges, each complete in itself, will constitute the University. The professors may instruct in more than one college or school. Students of proper age and advancement, may still take a select course from any of these schools, and be under the general control of the University, and receive certificates of proficiency in the branches learned, but degrees iu course, can only be obtained through the colleges. It is believed that this arrangement, to be entered upon on the 6th of next October, will fully meet the wants of all. It provides for the least as well as the most advanced pupils, and at the smallest possible expense. The ' professors, in the various colleges, have agreed to relinquish their fees for tuition. Hence, the student need only provide for his board and text books. Students, during the past pear, by "messing," brought all their expends within the limit of ten dollars per month. Columbia affords every advantage for this ar- 1 rangement. The expenses may be made less lere than in the village schools of the State, , ivhile the advantages are equal to those enoyed at any school iu the land. York has two representatives in the faculty, and she ought to have a score among the ! students. From no county will students be uore welcome, than from the industrious, : noral and religious people of York. Progress. i THE ENVIRONS OF RICHMOND. Richmond, the great "Confederate city," no ;1 onger the seat of national government, or the ! Done of contention between two immense ar- 1 nies, is quietly enjoying the repose and bles- 1 sings of peace, is devoting her energies and 1 aims to industries and commerce, and thns ; ias become the most prosperous city in the 1 south Atlantic States. You do not find here 1 ,hat dashing enterprise and stirring life that ' s characteristic of western cities, but there is ' a steady progress and air of thrift that is 1 juite encouraging. Petersburg, Fredericks- 1 jurg and Norfolk look dead, though not so | 1 eally; but here, numerous houses going up, j1 lie crowded s reels and the hum of human ! ] voices, and the whistle of steam engines from 1 i i .i I i nunureu mauuiuciuuus, luutuuic mnt wciu : ire business, activity, increasing wealth and j ast returning prosperity. The situation is a lelightf'ul one, commanding fiue views of the ; iver winding down to the sea, of gret 1 fields, j )f beautiful hills?each with a history of its ! iwn?and a landscape generally that is espe- i ] dally inviting and attractive, because the | season has been exceedingly propitious, and ? aature smiles her blandest in this splendid | < dimate. One can have pointed out to him jf aumberless places and things that acquired |1 celebrity during the late great struggle, From j i die capital windows, a line of breastworks on j < the Chesterfield side of the river may be seen, 11 aewly overgrown with grass; far off in the JI distance southwardly the faintest outlines of I Fort Darling and Drury's Bluff may be des-i i aried ; at the eastern end of the city on an j dcvated hill called Chimborazo, where was I < located the great army hospitals, capable of accommodating fifteen thousand wounded, is now long rows of negro huts; from Belle Isle, J the prison and the grave of thousands of Union soldiers, the smoke from the furnaces of a large nail factory arises. The residence , of Jefferson Davis is now occupied by a group of ten or twelve public schools. Gen. II. E. Lee's own residence is in possession of the mayor of the city, Hon. A. M. Kelley. The place whereon the Confederate war depart-1 mcnt stood until it was destroyed by the fire | of the evacuation is occupied by a public hall | and a newspaper office. Libby prison is in ! the hands of the southern fertilizing company, : .m.l tkotp irnrinna pninnnlimls are nret)Urcd UU? l"V.. .?..VUw ? I 1 there and sent all over the State to restore to fertility the poor, worn out lands. Castle 1 Thunder, used during the war to confine po- j litical prisoners and deserters from the south- \ em armies, has agaiu become a tobacco facto-1 ry, and two or three hundred happy, content-! ed negroes are profitably engaged within its; walls, which, like those of the Libby, have ' known of incalculable human suffering and r witnessed the most atrocious cruelties. There are few traces of the great fire which, lighted j in the tobacco ware houses by the Confeder-! ates when retreating from Petersburg, raged over a great area, consumed 800 houses, and would have destroyed the entire city had it not been for the timely eutranceof the Union i troops. For the most part the new houses are better than those burned. But the losses by that fire wrecked the fortunes of nearly all i the old merchants, and the business men of to-day are as a new generation.? Cor. Cincinnati Commercial. From Rrmlnbccnccii of Governor I'erry. JUDGE .VILLIAM SMITH. I was prejudice d in early life against Judge Smith, and most earnestly wished his defeat when Judge Huger opposed him for the United States Senate. This was before I was admitted to the bar. I was introduced to Judge j Smith in the House of Representatives of this | State, whilst the contest was going on between j him and Governor Miller for the Senate. I j was at that time editing the Greenville Mountaineer, a Union paper, and had espousal the j cause of Judge Smith on account of his oppo- j sition to nullification. His hostility to Mr. Calhoun, and his States' rights doctrines, which had formally prejudiced me against him, were now forgiven and joined in by myself. Mr. Calhoun had jumped over Judge Sm'th in the States' rights school, and went far beyond what the judge had.ever dreamed of in his opposition to natural powers. Judge Smith was a very plain, unpretending mau in his appearance and manners. He was very bitter and vindictive in his feelings. I never knew a man of talent and distinction more so. He hated Calhoun with an intensity and cordiality seldom felt by any public man toward his opponent. In speaking to Judge Huger, one day, of Mr. Calhoun, Judge Smith said, "Do you know, sir, that Calhoun, on my return to the Senate of the United States, treated me with so much kindness and consideration that I could not hate him as I wished to do." I mentioned this singular expression to Judge Earle, and he lemarked that he had no doubt Smith hated Calhoun the more for not being able to hate him ! In other words, not paradoxical, he hated Calhoun the more on account of his kindness and cordiality, which deprived him of one cause for continuing his hatred. Judge Smith said to Governor Taylor, in my prcreircc^Yinr frirow, sir, that Calhoun sold the State twice to advance his claims to the presidency, once on the tariff, and again on internal improvements." Judge Smith was the most consistent and the wisest statesman South Carolina ever produced in my day and time. He early perceived the dangerous tendency of increasing the powers of the Federal Government by a great national bank, a magnificent system of internal improvements, and a tariff for the exclusive protection of Northern manufactures. He saw, too, the sectional feeling of these measures would be to concentrate power and wealth at the North, and weaken and impoverish the South. He broke ground against these measure, at once, which were advocated by Mr. Calhoun and his friends, in South Carolina; and was turned out of the United States Senate in. consequence of his opposition to Mr. Calhoun and his policy. In a few years the evil consequences of this great American system on the prosperity of the Southern States were surely felt in South Carolina, and Judge Smith was again restored to the United States Senate by the Legislature. Then Mr. Calhoun and his party began their scheme of nullification to break down and nullify thetariff laws. Judge Smith immediately saw the dangerous and destructive consequence of this doctrine to all Federal powers, and opposed it like a wise statesman and patriot, and was again turned out the Senate. His coarse was, all the time, n mulrllo nnfi. t.hp. course of wisdom and Datri otism^ H^t&^-iien elected to the State Senate fVm^j5wk District, where he continued his^jEfftJsuion to nftljlocation and his exertions Mcrclfcnce of-th^^mon. But York District w% gave in /Her adhesion to nullification, and he moved to Alabama where he was elected to the Legislature, and afterwards appointed by General Jackson to a seat on the bench of the Supreme Court of the United States. This high and most honorable position the Judge declined. In the Senate of the United States Judge Smith always had great consideration for his wisdom, integrity and learning. South Carolina may well be proud of him as a statesman and patriot. Chancellor Job Johnston told me once that Judge Smith, in early life, had a falling out with one of his brothers, and they did not 3peak to each other. After his election to the j bench he went to hold court in one of the lower districts, and found this brother on the jury, and by the recommendation of the clerk he was appointed foreman, but there was no recognition of kindred or acquaintance between them. The whole court passed over without their speaking to each other, except officially. Chancellor Johnston was a great friend of Judge Smith, and took an active part for him in his election to the Senate when opposed by Judge Huger. The chancellor told me another incideut connected with Judge Smith, which was very remarkable. In early life, conversing with the judge about General Jackson, he said: "I knew General Jackson well as a boy and a man, and I know him to i be a hollow hearted scoundrel!" Many years Afterwards, in the canvass between Judge Smith and Judge Huger for the Senate, a member of the Legislature said to the chancellor that he would vote for Judge Smith, provided he was in favor of the election of General Jackson to the presidency. This Chancellor Johnson communicated to Judge Smith, and remembering what the judge had said in former years, he said to hira, "you need not answer the question if it will prejudice you." The judge replied, tell your Senator I would sooner see General Jackson president than any man in America." .Tinlorp "Withers who was the nrotepe oi " ""6" t'" j J " . o _ i Judge Smith, told me not long before his i Jeath, that he had heard the cause of Judge j smith's bitter enmity toward Mr. Calhoun, was owing to Mr. Calhoun's preventing President Monroe from appointing him to a foreign mission. Mr. Calhoun was, at that time, i member of Monroe's cabinet, and understood the president was going to nominate Judge Smith as Minister to Russia. He interposed mid procured the appointment of Governor Middleton, of South Carolina. Judge Withers said, that whilst riding with Judge Smith one day he alluded to the fact, and an evasive answer was given him. Judge Smith always kept his letters, and in talking to me, in the days of nullification, j relative to General Thompson, he said : "I have a rod in soak for him?a letter which he wrote me." What this letter contained he i did not inform me. On my introduction to Judge Smith, he spoke of his disappointment in ascertaining that the Pendleton delegation would vote against him. His sou in-law, Col. ' John Taylor, lived at Pendleton till his removal to Alabama. His friend, Gen. Earle, the brother-in-law of Col. Taylor, was still living there, and then Adjutant General of, the State. He thought his influence would have been for him iu the election. Judge Smith and myself boarded at the, same hotel whilst he was a member of the State Senate, and I saw a great deal of him. 1 ? ? i n i. T 1 fie was one or tne sternest ana nrmest men j. ever knew. He was not a man like Judge Huger, of warm friendship, but he surpassed the judge a long way in the bitterness of his enmities. He was said to havd been a selfish man. I do not know the truth of this. Chancellor Thompson, who practiced with him at the bar, usea to say he was ill-natured and ! captious to his associates. This is very likely j true. He was rude in conversation, as well ; as bitter and vindictive. Just before leaving the State, he was knocked down by a gentle- j man for some offence given in conversation. Whilst a member of the Alabama Legisla-! ture, a discussion sprung up as to the propriety of building a penitentiary. Judge Smith had just sent his cotton crop to Mobile and was defrauded by some of the factors there. He "stated to the house of which he was a member, that if the Legislature would build a wall around the city of Mobile, they would have a penitentiary at once filled with rogues ! Just as I was concluding this brief and imperfect sketch of Judge Smith, news was brought me of the capture of Fort Sumter! ( Fraternal blood has been shed in civil strife, i and the power and glory of this great Amcri-1 can Republic have, I fear, departed forever! No human wisdom can foretell the result. ' But if the wise and patriotic statesmanship of j Judge Smith had guided the councils of the j nation and the States, this mournful condition ' of our country would never have occurred. OUTRAGES IN MeDOWELL. We are indebted to a reliable and valued i friend, of McDowell county, for a detailed ac- j count of outrages in that county by W. H. | Deaver, revenue officer, and a company of j Federal soldiers. We would gladly publish , dm oo/iniint in full hut mvinor tn thp nrnwded l,,V "WW*..*. -v..*, w?. C , condition of our columns, and the late hour j when the communication came in, we have | only room for the following particulars, which j we glean from the statements made by our ! correspondent: It was on last Saturday that these bloodthirsty devils visited the house of Capt. Jas. Goodman, a peaceable and respectable citizen of the above county. The Captain was out, and the party drew their pistols upon Mrs. Goodman and her sister, and demanded them to show the party the way to a still house in the neighborhood. The ladies were very much frightened, and gave them the best information within their knowledge, when the party left and proceeded into the mountain north of the house, where they found the object of their search. They cut up the still, burned the vessels and house, filled their canteens, and other vessels which they procured at Captain Goodman's house, from a keg of whisky they found, drank till the capacity of their stomaches were thoroughly tested, and poured the remainder out. By this time they were about "how come you so," and like demons of the wild wood they proceeded to the residence of Mr. Daniel Jarrett, an old, harmless and respectable citizen of the same neighborhood. Like "Heroes of America," they pounced upou his old still-house, where no stilling had been done for lo these many years, and not one board was left "to tell the tale." They cut up his stills, destroyed his vessels, and committed several other depredations. From there they went on their way rejoicing, in search of one Albert Gardin, and had not proceeded far until they saw, under a tree, Mr. John Gardin, grandson of Mr. Daniel Jafrett. By this time the whole party was pretty drunk, and without any ceremony whatever, commenced firing upon the innocent man, and did not cease until fifty rounds had been discharged ; only one taking effect in young Gardin's back, which will, in all probability, cause his death. Dr. J. H. Gil key is attending upon him, and pronounces his case doubtful. After the firing had ceased, the party '< advanced, and found that their victim was an j innocent squirrel hunter, and not the person I at all for whom they were looking. They I carried the unfortunate young man back to | the residence of Mr. Jarrett, and then wended I their way into the South Mountains, where, j it is supposed, they will continue their diabol- j 'ical and hellish outrages. Can no relief be offered to the suffering peo-! -viz* aP \f aTYaimll AAtmfir 9 filmll pornniio nf- i p.c ui i ticers and Federal soldiers continue to molest peaceable and law-abiding citizens, and insult and frighten timid and virtuous ladies? How long will this state of affairs continue in this "land of liberty?" We will probably get further details of their outrages for our next issue.?Asheville (iV. C.) Expositor. 4-^.# Fate of Prominent New Yorkers.? j Speaking of old men who are not long for this world, I am reminded of Thurlow Weed, who can hardly tarry on this planet much beyond the summer. He was recently, and is still, I think, at Richfield Springs, and so weak that he could hardly get about on crutches. He has been seriously ailing for over a year past, and has been so often at death's door, only to get up and walk out of j another door, that few persons can believe j him so near the grave. He is almost the last j of the politicians who were so prominent twenty-five years ago. All the friends of his youth and mature manhood have gone, and*! the world can have little charm for him now. I He is still hard at work dictating his "Remi- j nisceuces," and has nearly completed them. He is deeply interested in his work (his daugh- j ter Harriet acting as his amanuensis?should j I say a-woraanuensis ?) and says that when he ! has finished it he will be ready to depart. Though Alexander T. Stewart has gone abroad ostensibly on business, the real pur-: pose of his voyage is said to bo his health,; which continues very precarious. He has by j no means recovered from his late attack, and | there is doubt if he ever will. He has been j so vigorous in the past that he does not quite 1 comprehend the change in his system. He j was averse to going to Europe this summer, and would not have gone if his physicians had 1 not told him the iourney was absolutely es- 1 sential to his health. Before sailing he put j nil his worldly affairs into shape, exactly as if j' he had no idea of returning. His wife, (she | does not usually go with him) his legal ad-j1 viser, ex-Judge Hilton, and his private phy-11 sician, accompanied the millionaire. Many persons here think the merchant will not live to return to these shores. He is now sq^fe ; he has physical troubles that generally prove 1 fatal to men much younger, and he has overworked for the last half century.?New York ] Letter, Jurisdiction' of Courts Under the Civil Rights Law.?A case has lately been entered ou the docket of the Supreme Court involving principles of the greatest importance. It comes by appeal from the United States Circuit Court for the District of Nerth Caro lina, and turns upon the question whether, under the civil rights law, criminal suits may be transferred from the State to Federal courts. The case arose out of the murder, nearly five years ago, by Dunlap, colored, a Republican, of Gleason, white, a Democrat, in Mecklenburg county, N. C., and subsequent removal of the case from the State to the United States Circuit Court, on affidavit by Dunlap that all the county officers were Democrats; that no colored man had ever been drawn or summoned on the jury in that county, and that justice was denied him under the laws of the State. The Supreme Court of the State ordered the case to be transferred, but when it came to trial United States Judge Bond dismissed it for want of jurisdiction, a decision from which Dunlap appeals. As the docket of the Supreme Court has a large accumulation of busi i i /? ness, the case will not probably be reacnea ior a year or two, and Dunlap, though once sentenced to death, is now likely to die from natural causes before the courts decide where he is to be tried. ? * The Sabbath Question.?The Sabbath question is exciting great discussion in Eltnira, between two clergymen and the editor, of the Daily Advertiser. The question at issue is, whether people shall attend some church and swelter during the delivery of a tiresome sermon, or whether they shall spend the Sabbath at Eldridge park, in rest and coramuuion with nature, or in listening to Thomas K. Beecher, who preaches in the park every pleasant Sunday. The following, which we find floating about through the press, is pertinent to this discussion : "Is it wrong for one who is busily engaged all the week to ride or walk out on the Sabhath? Rev. Henry Ward Beecher answers this question as follows: What is the Sabbath for ? Neither for work nor exciting and wearisome pleasure seeking, but primarily and chiefly for rest, All theories of Sabbath keeping that make it a burden grievous to be borne or a day of revelling or excitement are in antogonisra to the true spirit of Christian Sabbath keeping. But how shall we rest? Not, surely, by imprisoning our restless bodies and minds in the four walls of a house. Rest is not merely inactivity?that is often more tiresome than toil. A weary man who enjoys green fields and fresh air with his family on Sunday is not guilty of any wrong. The Sabbath of seve-e inactivity was not taught by Christ, was unknown even to the Pharisees, and is a burden which neither we nor our fathers were able to bear." + + How the Apaches Pop the Question. Even those copper-colored cut-throats, the Apache Indiaus, ha?e a touch of delicacy and romance in them. From a lecture delivered in San Francisco, by Col. John C. Carmany, we take the following account of their courting customs: Every young girl is at liberty to refuse a suitor for her hand. The father, mother and brother are prohibited from interfering in her choice. Her person is at her own dispo sal. After a brief courtship the lover maxes a formal proposal by offering so many horses. Horses are a standard among Indians. As the squaw does all the work, horses are accepted as an equivalent for her labor. When a young warrior becomes enamored, he fastens his horse near the wigwam of the squaw whose hand he seeks, where he is left four days. If she fails to feed and water the horse during that time, the master is rejected; but if she accepts his offer, she grooms and kindly cares for the horse, and ties him to the j wigwam of her lover?as much as to say, | "I am willing to be your slave and to do your j work." At the marriage the sages and sa! chems meet together, and the bride is not un! frequently loaded with forty to fifty pounds ' of silver and copper trinkets. Care of Old Horses.?Perhaps the most | inhuman treatment that an old animal receives falls to the lot of the horse. It has to travel on the road with the young and vigorous, draw one-half of the plow in the field all day beside the more than equal mate, and is allowed the same time to eat and rest. If there is a defective collar or bad fitting harness, it belongs to "Qld Dick"; and when, by overtask, he is reduced to almost worthlessness, he is sold, perhaps, into the hands of some barbarian, because he is almost worthless; and, after dragging around a short time dies, an "old scrub," at the age of twelve years. A horse should not be old until twenty, and we have known many very vigorous several years in advance of that; and the secret of of their longevity was not in the peculiar vitality of the horse, but the genuine humanity in the owner. It does not injure a horse to labor, any more than it does a man; and it is only by over-exertion, exposure and ill-treatment that it is jaded at the time when it should be in its prime. When men learn to exercise humanity to them for the right of it, which should ' ?*: ?:? ?:n ~ j ue u auiuuicut iuucmuvu, uicjr nmuuuttoauiiu compensation in the way of absolute money profit. Summer Play.?Nothing can be more cruel and nothing more foolish than to place children where they must be dressed every day in fresh fashionable clothes, and their freedom to play curtailed for the sake of appearances. What childhood needs is perfect freedom among things of nature? freedom to romp, to make mud pies, to leap fences, to row, to fish, to climb trees, to chase butterflies, to gather wild flowers, to live out of doors from morning until night, and to do all those things that innocent and healthy childhood delights in, in cheap, strong clothes provided for the purpose. Exactly that which childhood needs, perfect liberty and perfect carelessness. So whetherthedweller by the sea go inland for the summer play, or the resident of the inland city go to the sea, he should seek some spot unvisited by those devoted to fashionable display, and employ his time in unrestricted communion with nature, and in those pursuits which, without let or hindrance, perform the office of recreation. There is in Paris, says the London Echo, an aged woman, who has for the last fifty years supported herself by an industry of which, we believe, she enjoys a complete monopoly. She supplies the Garden of Acclimatization, in Paris, with food for the pheasants, which food consists entirely of ants' eggs. These she collects in the woods around Paris, and receives about twelve francs (about $2.50) for the quantity she brings back from each of her foraging expeditions. Theee generally last three or four days, during which she sleeps on the field of action, in order to watch the insects at dawn, and to find her way to their treasures. She is almost devoured by the ants, au inconvenience of which she takes but little notice, but at the end of her harvest-time, which lasts from the month of June to the end of September, her whole body is in a truly pitiable condition. Her services are, of course, highly .valued, for as there is at present 110 competition in this line of industry, it would be difficult to supply her place. AST The Times of India, published at Calcutta, contains an account of the death of a huge boa constrictor, which infested some ground at the foot of Puducottah Hills. It appears that the creature was regarded as sacred by the natives, who would not molest it, although only on the morning when Dr. Johnstone and Mr. Pennington, with great danger to themselves, bravely hunted it op and shot it, it had swallowed a child. The animal is about 21 feet long, and its stuffed skin is to be deposited in the Madras Museum.