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lewis m. grist, Proprietor.| 2U fitbcjpbcnt Jfamilg IJtiusjJitpcr: Jfor % ^promotion of fjjc political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial $afcrcsfs of fjjc Soutjj. jTERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 19. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1873. ISTO. 39. ^elected ftocttg. THE OLD CHURCH-YARD. I wander in the Church-yard, The Church-yard lone and old, Where many a*mossy marble Its tale of sorrow told. I wandered 'mid its silence As the Sun went down to rest, And the clouds like golden banners Were folded o'er his breast. The Christmas sun was setting, And his rays so soft and pale, Streamed through the ancient windows On desk and chancel-rail. And shed a holy radiance Within that llouse of God, Whose courts the dead around me In olden time had trod. I felt the place was hallowed, As 'mid the graves I strayed, Where the old and young together In dreamless rest'were laid. I felt the place was hallowed liv their calm, untroubled sleep, And the tears of those who o'er them, Had oft knelt there to weep. There were graves?old graves?around me, Whoso dead had ages slept, 'Till all were gone who mourned them? J 111 nil nCICKlilic nuv II vpv , And sad?sad thoughts canio o'er me, While by these graves I stood, As the chilling winds of Autumn Steal o'er the leafy wood. For I thought how often sorrow, The sorrow for the dead, That weighs the heart with anguish, And bows the drooping head, Must o'er the broken spirit, Her gloomy shadows tling, 'Till earth seem all a desert And life a joyless thing. And I thought how frail and lleeting This mortal life of ours, Thus laden down with sorrows, Like rain-drops on the llowers; And I thought of time approaching When I, like these, should lie Unknown, unwept, forgotten, While ages still rolled by. But 'mid the gloomy visions. The words of Him who said "Who'er on me believeth Shall live Ihough he be dead," Seemed whispered to my spirit By voices from the sky, And my spirit-voice responded "They are not dead that die." ?Ite Jfotg MkL | NOBODY BUT JOHN. "Some one is coming," said I, as the clack i of the shutting gate fell on my ears, and I J looked at Maggy's soiled, untidy dress and | tumbled hair. Maggy started and glanced hastily from I the window; then sat down again in a careless way, remarking as she did so: "It's nobody but John." Nobody but John ! And who do you think that John was? Only her husband. Nobody but John. \ fow mnmpnts afterwards. John Fairburn came into the room where we were sitting, and gave me one of his frank, cordial greetings. I had known him for many years, long before his marriage. I noticed that he gave an annoyed glance at his wife, but did not speak to her. The meaning of this annoyance and indifference was plain to me; for John had come from a neat, a tidy family. His mother's housekeeping had always been notable. She was poor, but as "time and water j are to be had for nothing"?this was one of her sayings?she always managed to have things about her clean and orderly. Maggy Lee bad a pretty face, bright eyes, and charming little ways that are taking with the young men, and she was quite a belle before she got out of her teens. She had a ; knack of fixing her ribbons, or tying her! scarf or arranging her hair, shawl and dress j in a way to give grace and charm to her per- j son. None but her most intimate friends i knew of the untidiness that pervaded her I room and person when at home and away j from common observation. Poor John Fairburn was taken in when he i married Maggy Lee. He thought he was getting the tidiest, neatest, sweetest and most orderly girl in town, but discovered too soon that he was united to a careless slattern. She would dress for other people's eyes, because i she had a natural love for admiration ; but at { home and for husband she put on any old dud, and went looking often "like the old t scratch," as the saying is. On the particular occasion of which I am , speaking?it was after she and John had been married over a year?her appearance was al- j most disgusting. She did not have on even a morning dress; only a faded and tumbled j chintz sacque above a soiled skirt, no collar, i slippers down at the heels, and dirty stockings, j Her hair looked like a hurra's nest?if any ; one knows what that is?I don't; but I suppose it is the perfection of disorder. No one could love such a looking creature. That was simply impossible. "Nobody but John !" I looked at the bright j handsome young man and wondered. He ate his dinner in silence, aud then went to work, j I had never seen him so moody. "What's come over John ?" I asked, as he ; went out. "Oh ! I don't know," his wife answered.! "Something wrong at the shop, I suppose. | He's foreman, you know." "Are you sure it's only that ?" I asked, j looking serious. "That or something about his work. There , is nothing else to worry him." I was silent for a while, debating with my- i self whether good or harm would come of a : little plain talk with John's wife. She was rather quick-tempered, I knew, and easy to j take offense. At last I ventured the remark: ; "Maybe things are not to his taste at home." "At home!" Maggy turned on me with a flash of surprise in her face. "What do yon ! mean ?" "Men like beauty and neatness in their wives as well as in their sweethearts," I said, j The crimson mounted to her hair. At the same moment I saw her glance at a looking ; glass that hung opposite her on the wall. ! She sat very still, yet with a startled look in her eyes, until the flush faded aud her face became almost pale. "Maggy," said I, rising and drawing my arm around her, "come up stairs. I have : something very serious to say to you." We walked from the little dining-room up to her chamber in silence. I then said : "Maggy, I want to tell you about a dear friend of mine who made shipwreck of happi-, ness and life. It is a sad story; but I am sure it will interest you deeply. She was my , cousin aud her name was ?" Maggy bent forward listening attentively, j "What'{" she asKea, as i nesnateu uu we i name. "Helen." "Not Helen White, who married John Harding, and was afterwards deserted by her , husband ?" "Yes, my poor dear cousin Helen. It is of her I am going to tell you." "I never knew why her husband went off as he did," said Maggy. "Some say he was to blame, and some put all the fault on her. How was it?" "Both were to blame, but she the most." I replied. "John Harding was, like your husband, one of the neatest and most orderly of meu. Anything untidy in his home, or in the person of his wife, annoyed and often put - - ? ' i _ _ 1. _ him out of humor; but ne aia noi, us uu should have done, speak plainly to his wife, and let her see exactly how he felt, and in what he would like a change. If he had done so, Helen would have tried?as every good wife should?to conform herself more to his taste aud wishes. But he was a silent, moody ! sort of man when things did not go just to suit him, and instead of speaking out plainly, i brooded over Helen's faults and worried himself into fits of ill humor. And what is worse than all, grew at length indifferent to his home and wife, and sought pleasanter surroundings and more attractive company abroad. Every man thus estranged from home is in danger, and Harding was no exception to the rule. Temptation lay about his feet? and that commonest temptation of all, the el egantly fitted up billiard aim arniKingsaioou. They had been married about as long as you and John have been, when the sad catastrophe of their lives took place. I had called to spend a day with Helen, and found her in , her usual condition of personal untidiness and disorder. When her husband came home at dinner time, I noticed, with painful concern, i that he had been drinking?not very freely, j but just enough to show itself in captious ill1 humor. Helen had not dressed for dinner, | but preseuted herself at the table without even ; a cleau collar, and with an old faded shawl ; drawn about her shoulders. She looked any-' thing but attractive. I saw her husband's eyes glance towards j her across the table with an expression that chilled me. It was a hard, angry, determined ; expression. He was hardly civil to me, and snapped his wife sharply two or three times during the meal. At the close, he left the table without a word, and went up stairs. "What is the matter with John ?" I asked. "Dear, God above knows !" replied Helen. "He's been acting queer for a good while. I can't imagine what's come over him." "Does he come home this way often ?" I : asked. "Yes, he's moody and as disagreeable as lie ! can be, most of the time. I'm getting dread-1 ful worried about it." As we talked, we heard John moving about J with heavy footfalls in the room above. Pres- j ently he came down and stood for a little j while in the hall at the foot of the stairs as if j in hesitation. He then went to the street door, passed out, and shut it hard after hitu. Helen caught her breath with a start and turned a little pale. "What is the matter," I asked, seeing the strangeness of her look. "I don't know," she replied, in a choking voice, laying her hand at the same time on her breast, "but I feel as if something dreadful was going to happen." She got up from the table, and I drew my arm around her. I, too, felt a sudden depression of spirits. We went slowly up to her chamber, where we spent the afternoon ; and I then took upon myself the office of a friend, j and talked seriously to my cousin about her < neglect for her personal neatness, hinting that j the cause of her husband's estrangement from his home, and altered manner toward herself, might all spring from this cause. She was a little angry with me at first; but I pressed the subject home with a tender seriousness that did the work of conviction ; and as evening j drew on, she dressed herself with care and j neatness. With a fresh ribbon in her hair and color a little risen from mental excitement, she looked charming and lovable. I waited with interest to see the impression she would make on her husband. He could not help being charmed into the lover, I was sure. But he did not come home to tea. We waited for him a whole hour after the usual time, and then sat down to the table alone; but neither of us could do more than sip a little I tea. I went home soon after, with a pressure of j concern at my heart for which I could not accouut. All night I dreamed uncomfortable . dreams. In the morning soon after breakfast; I ran over to see Helen. I found her in her room, sitting in her night dress, the picture of | despair. "What is it?" I asked, eagerly. "What has happened?" She looked at me heavily, like one not yet recovered from the shock of a stunning blow. "Dear cousin ! what is the matter ?" I j asked. I now saw, by the motion of her hand, that it held, tightly clutched, a piece of paper. She reached it to me. It was a letter, and read: "We cannot live happily together, Helen. You are not what I believed myself getting when we married?not the sweet, lovely, love- j able girl that charmed my fancy and won me , from all others. Alas for us both that it is j so ! There has been a shipwreck of two lives, ; Farewell! I shall never return." "And this was all; but it broke my poor ; cousin's heart. To this day, though nearly j three years have passed, she has never heard from her husband. "I saw her last week, in the country home ! to which she has been taken by her friends? j a wreck both in mind and body. She was sitting in an upper room, from the windows j of which could be seen a beautiful landscape. , She was neatly attired, aud a locket containing her husband's picture hung at her throat.! Her head was drooped, and her eyes on the Hour, when I entered. But she raised herself quickly, and with a kind of start?I saw a momentary eager flush in her face dying out quickly, and leaving it inexpressibly sad. "I thought it was John," she said mournfully. "Why don't he come?" I had to stop here, for Maggy broke out suddenly in a wild tit ol soDDing anu crying, , which lasted for nearly a minute. "Whatails you, dear?" I asked, as she be-; gan to be a little more composed. "Oh ! you have frightened me so. If John i should?" She cut short the sentence; blither frightened face left me in 110 doubt as to what was iu her thoughts. She arose and walked across the room iu an uncertain way for some moments, and then set down again, drawing her breath heavily. "If young wives," I remarked?believing that in her present state the truth was the best thing to say?"would take half the pains in making themselves personally attractive to their husbands, that they did to charm their lovers, more of them would find the lover continued in the husband. Is a man, think you, less an admirer of womanly grace and beauty after he becomes a husband than he was before ?" "Ilush ! hush !" she said, in a choked voice. "I see it all! I comprehend it all!" And ! she glanced down at herself. "I'm hateful and disgusting." After a plain, earnest talk with Maggie. I went home. I give her words as to what happened afterward. "I was wretched all the afternoon. John had acted worse than usual at dinner time ;' and what you told me about poor Helen set my fears in motion and worried me half to death. Long before the time he usually came home, I dressed with care, selecting the very things I had heard him admire. As I looked at myself in the glass, I saw that I was attractive ; I felt as I had never felt before, that there was a power iu dress that no woman can disregard without loss of influence, no matter what her position or sphere of life. "Supper time came. I had made something that I knew John liked, and was waiting for him with a nervous eagerness it was impossible to repress. But the hour passed and his well-known tread along the little garden walk did not roach my anxious ears. Five, ten, twenty minutes beyond his usual hour for returning and still 1 was done. Oh! I shiver as I recall the wild fears that began to crowd upon me as I was standing at the window, be hind the curtain waiting and watching. All at once I saw him a little distance from the house, but not in the direction from which he usually came. He was walking slowly, and | with his eyes upon the ground. His whole ; manner was that of one depressed or suffering, j I dropped the curtain, and went back into our little breakfast room to see that supper i was put quickly on the table. John came in, and went upstairs as he usually did, to change j his coat before tea. In a few minutes I rang ! the tea bell, and then seated myself at the table to wait for him. He was longer than usu-1 alin making himself ready, and then I heard him coming down slowly and heavily as if there were no spirit in him. # j "My heart beat strongly. But I tried to be bright and smiling. There was, oh! so drea- i ry a look on John's face as I first saw it in the i door. He stood still just a moment with his [ eyes fixed on me ; then the dreary look faded out; a flash of light passed over it, as he stepped forward quickly, and coming to where I sat stooped down and kissed me. Never , before was his kiss so sweet to my lips. "I have found my little wife once more," he j said, softly and tenderly, and with a quiver in * t ??i i?t i,:? i 1J1S VUIL'C. X jaiu lUJ u&avi uuvu mj/u*. h*v < bosom, and looking up into his face answered, 1 "And you shall never lose her again." And I think he will not. The sweetness of that hour, and the lesson it taught, can never | be forgotten by my friend, Maggy. Miscellaneous! iteadiug. | From tlit: Atlanta (Georgia) Herald, Mtli instant. THE AIR-LINE RAILROAD. This great line of railroad, materially short- j ening the distance and time from New Or-! leans, and from this city to New York, an en-' tcrprise which has been regarded as one of the i most important that ever was commenced east j of the Mississippi river, for forty years, is now . finished. It lacks only the arranging of a j schedule from New Orleans to New York, to 1 have regular trains running through. To j make this arrangement, a convention of rep-1 resentatives of all the railroads interested will ! assemble in this city to-morrow. This great work has been nearly twenty i years in hand! Its failure has frequently been predicted, and a few labored persistently ' to deteat it; but we believe even tnese now join in the general rejoicing at its completion. Yesterday one of our reporters, learning that Colonel B. Y. Sage, the Chief Engineer, ! was in the city, called upon him to obtain for this issue of the Herald a succinct history of this road. The interview was short, but very pleasant and highly satisfactory, as follows : Reporter?Colonel Sage, the proprietors of j the Herald have requested me to call on you ! and ask you to furnish them with the leading j facts in the history of the Air-Line Road ; and if you can spare a few moments for this purpose, I will be obliged. Col. Sage?Be seated, sir, and I will cheerfully give you all the information I can. Reporter?Then, Colonel, I would be pleased to know when the road was organized. Was there any work done on it before the war ? Col. Sage?The road was chartered by the Georgia Legislature in the winter of 1856, and the company organized in 1857. Jonathan Norcross was elected President. A survey was made by Alex. Warrell, the engineer, during that year. He ran down the Georgia Railroad to New's Station, and from thence to Lawrenceville and Jefferson, cross-1 ing the Oconee River at Hurricane Shoals, j passing near Madison Springs, and through j Hartwell, in Hart county, to Andersonville, , South Carolina?a village at the junction of i the Seneca and Tugaloo rivers. During the following year B. C. Morse, | another engineer in the employ of the compa- [ ny, located a different route, commencing on ; the line of the State Road about Winship's Foundry, running up Peachtree ridge, following the same along the Hog Mountain route to Gainesville?then through Gillsville, C'ornersville, and to Andersonville. Reporter?Neither of these routes were finally adopted. Who located the present route; and was it done before or since the war ? Col. Sage?In 18G0, I located the route ; from here to Pinckneyville, very nearly as j the road now runs. Mr. Harkey was then I chief engineer, and I was his assistant. The line, as then proposed, was to leave the State ; Road at Winship's Foundry, going by the i old Collier place, north of Atlanta, crossing Peachtree Creek, east of the bridge, striking j the ridge above Buckhead, and following it to Gainesville. A small amount of grading was done be-; fore the war, at three points?at Flower's Station, near here, then near Gainesville, and again near Ilartwell, in Hart county. The war stopped all work on the road, and thor- j oughly disorganized the whole enterprise, j After the war, in 18G6, I called a meeting of the stockholders, which assembled and effected .1 imvii xmaitiviitinn Tim Dhwfnrs nftAr this, in July of 1806, assembled in New York and authorized me to begin the work anew, which I did in thcSeptember following. Owing to the financial troubles of one of our loading men in the enterprise, the work was again stopped in the winter of 1866, and not resumed till December, 1867, when the company was again ro-organized, and Colonel Bu-, ford elected the President, with myself as Engineer. Reporter?At what time was the work of grading actually commenced after the reor-' ganization ? Col. Sage?I was going on to say, that in j 1868 the company obtained an amendment to their charter iu the States of Georgia and j South Carolina, and procured a charter in North Carolina, and in the fall of that year ' surveys were again commenced, and after j long and laborious work and much careful selections, the present line was located and finally adopted by the company. In March,1 1869, bids were advertised tor the grading or the first twenty miles, and a contract made with Messrs. Scott, Boudurant & Adams, and ground was broken in the work in April. The first rail was laid in .September, 1869. The first engine that ever went upon the track j was the old Georgia Railroad switch engine? "The South Carolina and the first Air-Line locomotive?the "Dispatch"?was placed upon the track on the first day of October, 1869. The first train reached Norcross in May, 1870. There was then only a little log cabin < and a whisky shop at the place. Now it is a beautiful thrivingvillageofconsiderabletrade. t < In the fall of 1869, contracts were made ; with Scott, Bondurant & Adams, and with Grant, Alexander & Co, to complete the gra- j ding fromv Norcross to Gainesville; and in December of that year, the latter company removed all their forces to Gainesville. Before Christmas that year the cars reached Buford. There was then only a single build-! ing?a double log-cabin?at the place, with one end rotted down, and a widow woman with five daughters living in it. The first train that went to Gainesville was in June, 1870?an excursion of the Knight Templars?the Grand Encampment of Georgia being then in session at that place. In the spring of 1870 a contract was enter- i ed into with P. P. Dickson to grade the entire line from Gainesville to Charlotte, North Carolina, and in July, work was commenced simultaneously all along the line from Charlotte to Spartunburg?seventy-five miles ; but in the following year he sold out his contract to Thomas A. Scott. ; Early in the year 1871, a contract was made j i with Grant, Alexander it Co. to grade the' road from Gainesville to Tugaloo River; and 1 in the spring of 1872, the remainder of the j road, from Spartanburg to Tugaloo was let; out to contractors, who speedily put a great! force to work all along the line. On the 26th | of August, just past, the last spike was driven j by President Buford, at Seneca Bridge in ; South Carolina. I believe I have given you a brief sketch of the main points in the histo-! ry of the road from its commencement to its ; completion. Reporter?I am much obliged. It is a, great work, with an eventful history, the com- j pletion of which is a matter of just pride to all who have been connected with the work, i Will you, if there is no impropriety, inform J me what has been the aggregate cost of the road up to this time ? /"Vl Conn?Tim morl witli flip pnninments. vui. aiiv * uuuy itivM v..v ?f , hus thus far cost about 830,000per mile. The ; length of the road is 265 miles, which makes j the cost 87,950,000, or in the neighborhood of, S8,000,000. This is in stock and bonds. Reporter?When will your schedule be j promulgated, aud the regular running of through trains be commenced? ~ Cul. Sage- A oottventian ^ thoroprowcnta- ! tives of all the roads from New Orleans to j New York will be held here on Monday next,; to arrange this schedule. We have made up one which we like, and which we thought would meet the approval of all the roads, but some of them did not approve it, and they are all coming together to compare views and j agree upon a schedule. The trains will be started as soon as possible. Reporter?How much will the time to New , York be reduced by your route? Col. Sage?The time from this point to New j York will be only from forty-one to forty-two ! iiours. The shortest time by present routes, I j believe, is 48 hours. Reporter?Who are the present stockhol-1 ders or owners of the road ? Col. Sage?It is at present owned by the : Southern Security Company. Reporter?I suppose already the road through this extensive, mountainous and long j neglected country, is already showing vast I signs of improvement in buildings, cultivation, the enhancement of real estate, etc. Col. Sage.?Yes, very great indeed. It has infused new life everywhere?such as I have named, at Norcross and Buford. When the train first reached Gainesville, there were less * . . 1 X _ 1 than live hundred inhabitants, ana not a nuuse i had been built there in twelve years. Now there are fully two thousand five hundred inhabitants, and three hundred houses have been built. In 1870, there were eight bales of cotton sold in that town ; last year, there were nearly three thousand bales disposed of in that market. Similar improvements are going on at every point on the entire line. We then thanked Col. Sage for the very interesting facts he gave us and retired; and in concluding this notice, we will remark that the building of this road, through this Switzerlandic region, which has, nearly all the way, been across the great mountain ranges, and not parallel?thereto?thus making the grading among the heaviest ever done in America, and all, with its equipments thus far costing only 830,000 per mile, is the highest evidence of the economy and ability with which the work has been performed. The State endorsed the bonds of the company, but the company decided not to use the bonds, and returned them to Governor Smith. ? . MANUFACTURES IN THE SOUTH. Ours is a material, money seeking age. Its favorite pursuits and investigations are not speculative, chivalric nor romantic, but are employed in those fields which promise to yield the greatest amount of wealth, comfort and independence to the individual, and to society. The Southern people are in a condition to feel the force of this fact rather painfully. They have lost many hundreds of millions of their poverty, at a time when other portions of the couutry have been accumulating wealth rapidly. The Northeast and West are rich and prosperous; the South onlv moderately so in a few scattered locali ties. Yet the mass of the people in all parts of the United States belong to the same intellectual, active thrifty, enterprising AngloSaxon race. The agricultural capabilities and j mineral resources of the South are of the first j order, while its climate is one of the finest on the globe. There is no good reason why the I South should lag in the rear in the accumu-1 lation of wealth, and the acquisition of mate- j rial power generally. While our lack of de-1 velopment is attractable in no small degree j to political causes, much of the blame justly | falls upon the Southern people, themselves, i There is a lamentable want of enterprise ap-1 parent in many of the finest portions of our ! territory. What city of thirty thousand in- | habitants in New England would, for exam- j pie, permit a water power like that of the ; Ohio falls to run to waste for years as we. have done? Here is a mine of wealth, if I worked with the right object, would not only \ at once bring a force of operatives to our doors in their own numbers equal to the population j of a large city, but every interest and trade j now existing in Louisville would receive a ! powerful impetus. The merchants would ! double their retail custom, the wholesale j merchants would double their trade, the pro-1 fessions would be benefited in the same pro- j portion, and every vocation, from the high-. est to the humblest, would receive an infusion of new life. Not Louisville alone sleeps over ' patent advantages and opportunities. Many instances of like neglect exists over the South, whose people are slow to learn the fact, shown in the history of every country in Christendom, i that the wealth of a nation comes from her , t* ' o xl f iL. ... ' raanumctures lar more man irom me ran material that it produces. It is nonsense to say that manufactures will not prosper in the South. We mantain, on the contrary, that they can be made more profitable, with fair business management, in the South than thcv are to-day in Great Britain, Germany, or New England. An Alabama newspaper of recent date says: "Ex-Govcnor Button, of Alabama, in a let-' ter to The South, says that the dividend paid by the Augusta cotton mills is over twenty I per cent, a year. A cotton mill at Peters-1 burg, Va., pays twenty-five per cent, a year, i One at Columbus. Ga., pays over twenty per j cent. The mills in this State do at least as well. And at this very time the New England mills are struggling along with small * ? 1 Af r??A??lf i rvr# oU At<f t! rvin ! [J1U1ILS, 1U1W CVCIJ luin. nulling owuib ; so as to reduce stocks and improve prices. | The difference between their feeble and sinking condition and the vigorous activity of the Southern mills is accounted for by the "five cents u pound" advantage which the Southern manufacturer has in his tilt with New England, and yet we have but few factories in Alabama." One fact like this is worth a thousand theo- i ries which aim to explain why it is that man- j ufactures will not thrive in the South. They 1 do prosper wherever good buisness men con-; duct them, and on their establisment in future depends the hope of Southern restora-: tion ; and not restoration only, but an excellence and prosperity which she never attain- j ed in the past.?Louisville Courier Journal. Andy Johnson Cuts a suit ok Clothks. Sam Bard told me some stories {narratives I mean) last night, and one about ex-President Johnson will do to go along. He says : I was in Greenville the other day, and was talking about Andy Johnson, when a gentleman standing by me said : "Andy is j as big a demagogue as ever." A countryman came in town last week with a bundle of jeans j to have a suit of clothes made for his nig-1 ger. He saw Andy standing on the corner, and says, 'Well, Andy, you used to be the best tailor in these parts, and I wish you'd cut out this suit of clothes for iny boy Jim here.' 'All right,' says Andy, and they stepped in the shop near by, and in five minutes an ex-President might have been seen swinging around the circle of a dirty negro, taking his latitude, longitude and bearing for a suit of clothes.' Andy is very ambitious, but whether such tomfoolery as this will get him into the Senate is more than any one can tell."?Letter to the Atlanta Herald. THE BALLOON FAILURE. The failure of the Graphic balloon to start ' ? _ .1 A.* 3 on its trans-Atlantic voyage, as auvemseu, has excited considerable comment, and from all accounts, the whole seems to have been very badly managed. A reporter of the New York Tribune called on Prof. Wise, and the Professor made substantially the following statement: He said that his arrangement with the Messrs. Goodsell was substantially as follows: They agreed to construct such a balloon as he owjgcatcd', of mntcltala of good qualitj, and it was to be equipped with approved scientific instruments and facilities for the sustenance and preservation of life. Instead of acting on his recommendations, they proceeded to build a balloon after their own ideas. They procured different material from that which he suggested, employed a superintendent of construction, who was utterly unfit for the position, and entirely disregarded his (Prof. Wise's) advice. Prof. Wise had merely an advisory nosition in the councils of the enter prise, and whenever his views differed from those of the managers, they were disregarded. The balloon, instead of being placed under cover at the ship-house in the navy yard, was exposed to the action of the elements for five weeks, until the material was actually rotten and could not contain the gas. Instead of having an ample force of twenty-five men at the grounds, for the purpose of inflating the balloon, Donaldson and a few boys were there, and they, of course, could accomplish nothing. The balloon was rent iu several places, and he was in doubt as to the ability of the constructors to repair it so as to enable it to be of sufficient service to demonstrate the theory which he had so much at heart. In relation to the business details of the balloon, Professor Wise said that the figures had been grossly over-rated. He had made an estimate of the cost of construction, and presented it to the managers of the enterprise. He had estimated that a first class balloon, such as he required, would cost $5,630. The managers had not spent over $4,000 on the balloon whch was now on exibition. They had advertised for contributions, which they declared would be turned over to Professor Wise. On the strength of this statement, a number of subcriptions had been received? one from a scientific society amounting to $1,200. This check had been drawn to the order of Professor Wise, and he had endorsed it over to the managers, and had not received anything out of it. He protested against his name being used as a bait for subscriptions, and declared to them that if they did not cease such a misuse of his name, he would expose the whole matter. Many of the implements and instruments of the enterprise were contrbuted, gratuitously, br for advertising purposes. The actual outlay had been more than repaid by the rates of admission charged at the exhibition of the balloon. 'T1^ /Unnlnir V* rs. **'0 O fl A X70TQ0 IV una uiopaj no nao j IUUVU MU*viwv} as he did not think that it was just to charge admission fees. He did not think that he had been justly treated by the Graphic. He had spent his summer, all his energy and industry upon the matter, and had remained in this city at a large cost to himself. All that he had received was about 8195 for expenses in connection with the balloon. He particularly dwelt upon the treatment of the managers in relation to his book, which he had contracted to write and publish. With a perfect knowledge of this subject, the managers hacTadvertised, by implication, that he was to edit this book in conjunction with some of the people connected with them. This alarmed his publishers, and it has been necessary for him to disclaim all connection with this book. Prof. Wise concluded by stating that he was still desirous of prosecuting the enterprise, and that if this balloon could be repaired and made to demonstrate something practical, he would ascend. THE HABIT OF READING. "I have no time to read," is the common complaint, and especially of women, whose occupations are such as to prevent continuous book persual. They seem to think, because they can not devote as much attention to books as they are compelled to devote to their avocations, that they can not read anything. But this is a great mistake. It isn't the books we finish at a sitting which always do us the most good. Those we devour in the odd moments, half a dozen pages at a time, often give us more satisfaction, and are more thoroughly digested than those we make a particular effort to read. The men who have made their mark in the world have generally been the men who have, in boyhood, formed the habit of reading at every available moment, whether for five minutes or five hours. It is the habit of reading rather than the time at our command, that helps us on the road to learniug. Many of the most cultivated persons, whose names have been famous as students, have give only two or three hours a day to their books. If we make use of snnrp minutes in the midst of our work, and read a little, if but a page or a paragraph, we shall find our brain quickened and our toil lightened by just so much increased satisfaction as the book gives us. Nothiug helps along the monotonous daily round so much as fresh and striking thoughts, to be considered ; while our hands are busy. A new idea from | a new volume is like oil which reduces the | friction of the machinery of life. What wo remember from brief glimpses into the books often serves as a stimulus to action, and becomes one of the most precious deposits in the treasury of our recollection. All knowl- j edge is made up of small parts, which would seem insignificant in themselves, but which, taken together, are valuable weapons for the mind and substantial armor for the soul.: "Read any thing continuously," says Dr. ; Johnson, "and you will be learned." The odd minutes which we are inclined to waste, j if carefully availed of for instruction, will in the long run, make golden hours and golden days that we shall be ever thankful for.? Scribner's for August. Dining in Military Style.?Gen. Lee,! grave man that he was, greatly enjoyed the "sell" which a wagon his staff palmed oft'upon * ; i_.l lA. i.l.? ! ft reporter, wno promptly maerieu 11, iu me papers. The reporter wanted to know Gen. Lee's hour for dining. "Six o'clock?exactly six o'clock," was the reply. "I infer theu, that it is rather a formal meal?" "Decidedly formal?in fact, I may say it is a rigidly military dinner." "Military! how military?"! "Well, you see Gen. Lee sits at the head of the table, and Col. Chilton at the foot, and everything is done in red-tape style." "Redtape at a table! I don't understand you. Please explain." "Certainly. Gen. Lee never carves and never helps?all that is left to Col. Chilton?but Gen. Lee asks the guests what they will have; they tell him, then he issues his orders,, and Col. Chilton executes them. That's all." "Go on, go on!" opening his notebook. "Q\ve me an example?tell me exactly how it is done." "Suppose, then, that we have beef?we goner ' ally have beef. Grace is said by the chapi lain, then Gen. Lee raps on the table with ! the handle of his knife and says, "attention !" Everybody, is silent. Every eye is turned toward Gen. Lee. He looks at one of us? ; me for an example?and I rise and make a t military salute. "Capt. C ,what will you i : be helped to ?" says Gen. Lee. I say, "Beef," I make another salute and sit down. Ge n : Lee, fixing his_ eye ou Col. Chilton, says, 'Beef for Capt. C My plate is passed, helped and then Col. Chilton handing it to : the servant says, 'Beef for Capt. C . By order of Gen. Lee. R. R. Chilton, A. A. G.'" j ! Thoughts of Great Men.?We always I think of great men as in the act of performing . the deeds which give them renown, or else in j stately repose, grand, gloomy, and majestic. j And yet this is hardly fair, because even the | most gorgeous and magnificent of human beI ings have to bother themselves with the little j things of life which engage the attention of us | smaller people. No doubt Moses snuffed and got angry when he had a severe cold in his ' bond, (xnd i a fly bit bio leg wbilo sitting i in the desert, why should we suppose he did | not jump and use violent language and rub j the sore place ? And Cmsar?isn't it toleraj bly certain that he used to get the slippers in ! the dark, and found that Calphurnia had shoved them back under the bed so that he ! had to sweep around wildly for them with the broom-handle? And when Solomon cracked i his crazy bone, it is unreasouable to suppose that he hopped around the room and looked mad and felt as if he wanted to cry? Imagine George Washington sitting on the edge of the bed putting on a clean shirt, and growling at Martha because the buttons were off; or St. Augustine with an apron around his neck i having his hair cut; or Joan of Arc holding j her front hair in her mouth, as women do, ; while she fixed up her back hair ; or Napo; Icon jumping out of bed in a frenzy to chase [ I a musketo around the room with a pillow ; or | ' Martin Luther in his night shirt trying to j put the baby to sleep at 2 o'clock in the morning; or Alexander the Great with! j the hic-cups; or Thomas Jefferson getting sud-1 j denly over a fence to avoid a dog; or the j Duke of Wellington lying in bed with the mumps; or Daniel Webster abusing his wife because she hadn't tucked thecovers in at the [ foot of the bed; or Benjamin Franklin paring : his corn with a razor; or Jonathan Edwards ; at the dinner table wanting to sneeze just as be gets his mouth full of hot beef; or Noah standing at his window at night throwing bricks at a cat.?3fax Adeler. Ruled by Women.?There is a remarkable little state among the Holland possessions which, in its constitution and the original customs of the inhabitants, surpasses the boldest dreams of emancipation ladies. Upon the island of Java, between the cities of Ba-: tavia and Samaring, lies the little kingdom of Bantam. Although tributary to Holland, it is an independent state, politically without importance, yet happy, rich, and since j time immemorial governed and defended by ! women. The sovereign is indeed a man, ' but all the rest of the government belongs j to the fair sex. The king is entirely depen- j dent upon his state council, composed of three 1 women. The highest authorities, all state j officers, court functionaries, military commanders, and soldiers, are without exception of the female sex. The men are agriculturalists and merchants. The body-guard of the king is formed of the female elite. These amazons ride in the masculine style, wearing sharp steel points instead of spurs. They J carry a pointed lance, which they swing very j nrropefnllv nnd nl.qn n. musket, which is dis- I charged in full gallop. The throne is inher-1 ited by the eldest sou, and in case the king i dies without issue, a hundred elected amazons j assemble, in order to choose a successor from j among their own sons. The chosen one is ! then proclaimed lawful king. The capital I city of this little state lies in the most pic-! turesque parts of the island, in a fruitful | plain and is defended by two well-kept fortresses. Looks of Literary Women?Very intel- j lectual women are seldom beautiful; their, features, and especially their foreheads, are j more or less masculine. But there are ex- j ceptions to all rules, and Miss Landon was an ' exception to this one. She was exceedingly 1 feminine and pretty. Mrs. Stanton, is like-1 wise, a handsome women, but Mrs. Anthony ' and Mrs. Livermore are both plain. Maria ' and Jane Porter were women of high brows ' and irregular features ; as was also Miss ! : Sedgewick. Anna Dickinson has a strong, i masculine face; Kate Field has a good-look- j J ing though by no means pretty one, and Mrs. \ i Stowe is thought positively homely. Alice I and Phoebe Cary were both plain featured, j j though their sweetness of dispositon added ! i greatly to their personal appearance. Mar- j j garct Fuller had a splendid head, but her ! features were irregular and she was anything | but handsome, though sometimes in the glow , : of conversation she appeared almost radiant.! j Charlotte Bronte had wouderously beautiful i : dark brown eyes and a perfectly shaped head, i j She was small to diminutiveuess, and was I | as simple in her manner as a child. Julia Ward Howe is a fine-looking woman wearing | an aspect of grace and refinement and great j i force of character in her face and carriage. ! Olive Logan is by no means handsome! I - ? r?nn nnr] offrflnfiuA 111 ill JJC1SUU, IHUUgU g"/ ?IIU uvviuviixv ... j conversation. Laura Holloway resembles , G'harlote Bronte both in personal appearance and in sad experience of her young life. | I Neither Mary Bootheor Marion Harland can 1 lay claim to handsome faces, though they I are splendid specimens of cultured women, | while Mary C'lemmer Ames is just as pleas-; ing iu her features as her writings are grace-I ful and popular.?Moore s Rural. Tiie Father at Home.?God pity and i soften the man whose standing at home is i not good ; whose family shrinks away in fear- j j ful silence as his foot crosses the threshold; j whose children shun the room he darkens j with his presence; whose wife meets him with i a pale, spiritless, crushed look, which tells , how small her hope for caress, how scanty have been the loving words and looks which i have brigtened her life. God help them,! love him, for it is a penance to love such a man. And God bless the generous, cheerful, large-hearted inan who always brings sun-1 shine with him, who leaves his cares and bus- j iuess "down town," and brings his own cheerful and cheering self, home to his family; for his face is a never-failingsource of gladness i to those who love him, and his tenderness their highest pride and surest shield, after j God's. *' ? - * I ./Ill J 11 vuiir SUUIUIIiy ilL iiuiug ion l ljuuu, dear reader, be in a greater hurry to make it so than you are to do anything in this world. I Don't wait until the memory of the grieved , look upon some dear face almost habitual to I it, by reason of your habitual unkiudness,: subdues you iuto gentleness; when that face has gone forever from your gaze you can ' never call forth a smile to dwell upon it again. < ? {feS" A very affecting incident occurred in a Connecticut town the other day. The cler- j gyman, whose salary was four hundred dol- j lars, was waited upon by a delegation. One of the elders made a little speech, in which he asked the minister to accept from the congregation an addition of one hundred dollars to his salary. When the venerable old man j heard this request his aged eyes fdled with.' tears, and for a few moments he bowed bis snow-white head upon his hands. Then in a voice that was trembling with emotion, he said : "Gentlemen, I can't see it! The hardest work I have to do now is to collect ray salary, and if I should undertake to collect a hundred dollars more I would be mouldering in the silent grave in less than a week!" The elder was so deeply affected by this remark, and his conscience was so stung with remorse, that he immediately offered to lend the minister two hundred dollars at two per cent, per month interest and first rate collateral security. So powerful sometimes is even a little word to stir up in the human breast a sense of Christian duty! A Tight Place.?One of numerous suramerers in town, who knows all about those rich fellows in New York, says that William B. Astor owns seven thousand houses, and it?j can buy out botn stewarc ana vauumunu He also says that when the details of Stewart's will are made public, the extent of his benefactions to the poor of New York will astonish the country. There are other rich man in Vau>. Yai>lr. baaitlaa iluua Un-aaj and some of them know how to keep their money. One of these is Mr. Roosevelt, of Union Spuare. When the equestrian statue of Washington was projected, a gentleman called on him with a subscription list, showed him how much the other property-holders on Union Square had put down, spoke of the desirableness of the proposed statue as an ornament, and a memorial of the Father of his Country, etc., etc. "I believe I won't subscribe," said Mr. Roosevelt, "I cordially concur in all you say about General Washington; I assure you I have the Father of his Country in my heart sir." "Well,' said the solicitor, "you have got the Father of his Country in a d?n tight place." ? + A Ridiculous Muss.?A Keokuk (la.) lady while engaged in the pursuit of her domestic duties, encountered a mouse in the flour barrel. Now, most ladies under similar circumstances would have uttered a few feminine shrieks and then sought safety in the garret. But this one possesses more than the ordinary degree of female courage. She summoned the hired man and told him to get the shot-gun, call the bull-dog, and station himself at a convenient distance. Then she climbed half way up the stairs and commenced to punch the flour barrel vigorously with a pole. Presently the mouse made its appear ance and started across she floor. The bulldog at once went in pursuit. The man fired and the dog dropped dead. The lady faiDted and fell down the stairs, and the hired man, thinking she was killed, and fearing that he would be arrested for murder, lit out, and has not been seen since. The mouse escaped. Kind Words?A single word may disquiet an entire family for a whole day. One surly glance casts a gloom over a household, while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine, may light up the darkest and weariest hours. Like unexpected flowers which spring up along our path, full of freshness, fragrance and beauty, so the kind words, and gentle acts, and sweet disposition make glad the homes where peace and blessing dwell. No matter how humble the abode, if it be garnished with grace and sweetness, with kindness and smiles, the heart will turn laughingly toward it from all the tumults of the world, and home, if it be ever so homely, will be the dearest spot beneath the circuit of the sun. + A Beautiful Thought.?Dickens wrote: "There is nothing?no, nothing beautiful and good, that dies and is forgotten. An infant? a prattling child?djing in its cradle, will live again in the better thoughts of those who loved it, play its part though its body be burned to ashes, or drowned in the deepest sea. There is not an angel added to the hosts of Heaven but does its blessed work on earth in those that loved it here. Dead? Oh ! if the good deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautiful could even death appear; for how much charity, mercy and purified affection would be seen to have their growth in dusty graves." What Manufacture Does.?Many cities and towns will appreciate the following: One manufactory employing a hundred men will support an additional 500 people. Three hundred families will disburse annually, the average, $80,000 or $75,000, in the aggregate. This money will be drawn into the town from the outside, where the manufactured goods are consumed, and4he interest of this $75,000 at ten per cent, would be $7,500. These hundred families, too, would require a hundred houses, thousands of yards of cotton and woolen goods, thus giving health and impetus so every branch of industry. S?* Three things a lady cannot do.?1. She cannot pass a millinery shop without stopping. 2. She cannot see a piece of lace without asking its price. 3. She cannot see a baby without kissing it. A lady turns the table on the gentlemen as follows: Three things a gentleman cannot do.?He cannot pass through the house and shut the doors after him. 2. He cannot have a shirt made to suit him. 3. He can never be satisfied with the ladies' fashions. teaF "Ah, Jemmy, Jemmy," said the Bishop of Derry to a drunken blacksmith, "I am sorry to see you beginning your evil course again; and, Jemmy, I'm very anxious' to know what you intend to do with that fine lad, your son ?" "I intend, sir," said Jemmy, "to do for him what you cannot do for your sou." "Eh! eh, how's that?" To which Jemmy, with a burst of genuine feeling, said : "I intend to-make him a better man than his father" ??? Jteir Planters of leaf tobacco will remember that if they sell directly to the consumers, or dispose of their tobacco to any persons except those who have paid special taxes as dealers in or manufacturers of tobacco, or to exporters, they will become liable themselves as retailers to the special tax of $500 and to the additional tax of fifty cents on every dollar of sales in excess of $1,000. ttaTThe church was built to disturb the peace of man ; but often it does not perform its duty for fear of disturbing the peace of the church. What kind of artillery practice would that be which declined to fire for fear of kicking over the gun carriages, or waking up their sentinels asleep at their posts??H. W. Beecher. Envy is the most inexcusiable of all passions. Every other sin has some pleasure annexed to it, or it will admit of an excuse; envy alone wants both. Other sins last but for a while?anger remits?the appetite may be satisfied?hatred has an end ; hut euvy never ceases. 5?"" In Baravia, every Monday morning, a list of all engagements for marrage that have taken place during the proceeding week are published in the papers. The pleasent little atfairs have to be ratified by the parents on both sides, and written out in legal form. ? ? DSf A little boy of six summers was sent one morning to call his grandfather to breakfast. The old gentleman was in the habit of snoring very hard, and as the boy pushed open the door he was frightened at the unusual noise. He rushed back to his mother, exclaiming, "Ma 1 grandpa's been barking at me I"