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lewis m:. grist, proprietor, j |nbepenbent Jfaixiilg ftetospnjjer: <for % |)romofion of tjje!, political, Social, Agricultural arcb Commercial Interests of % Soutjj. J terms?$3.00 a tear, in advance. VOL. SO. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1874. NO. 48. ' - - - - ? ? _ 1-1 A Selected foctcg. SO GOES THE WOULD. Our varied days pass on and on, Our hopes fade unfulfilled away. And things that seem the life of life Are taken from us day by day ; And yet through all the'busy streets, The crowd of pleasure-seekers throng; The puppets play, the showman calls, And gossip chats the whole day long, - And so the world goes on. Our little dramas come to naught; Our lives may fail; our darling plan May crumble into nothingness; Our firmest castle fall to sand : And yet the children sing and dance, The money-makers laugh and shout, The stars, unmindful, still shine bright, Unconscious that our light is out, And so the world goes on. a ne nouse grows sau mat uuic ??.-> *?v? The dear ones seek their Blessed Home, And we may watch and wait in vain To hear their well-known footsteps come. And yet the sunlight checks the tloor, Ancl makes the summer shadows long; The rose-buds at the casement bloom, The bird pours forth his cheerful song, And so the world goes on. And God goes on, and with our woe Weaves golden threads of joy and peace; Guarding with his heart of hearts Our days of pain, our days of ease, He marks them all?the seed, the sheaves, The danger's smile, the mourner's tears? And keeps them safe, Ilis children all, Through all the great eternal years, And, so, thank God, the world goes on. Site Jdorg Seller. BILL AND THE WIDOW. ? "Wife," said Ed. Wilbur one morning as he sat stirring his coffee with one hand, and holding a plum cake on his knee with the other, and looking across the table iuto the bright eyes of his neat little wife ; "wouldn't it be a good joke to get bachelor Bill Smiley to take Widow Watson to Barnum's show next week ?" "You can't do it, .hid.; he wont asK ner; ne is so awful shy. Why, he came here the other morning, when I was hanging out some clothes, and he looked over the fence and spoke; but when I shook out a night-gown he blushed like a girl and went away." "I think I can manage it," said Ed.; "but I'll have to lie just a little. But theu it wouldn't be much harm under the circumstances, for I know she likes him, and I know he don't dislike her; but as you say, he's so shy. I'll just go over to his place to borrow some bags of him, and if I don't bag him before I come back, don't kiss me for a week, Nelly." So saying, Ed. started, and while he is mowing the fields, we will take a look at Bill Smiley. He was rather a good looking fellow, though he showed some gray hairs and whiskers, and he had got a set of artificial teeth. But every one said he was a good soul, audso he was. He had as good a hundred acre farm as any in Norwich, with a new house and everything comfortable, and if he had wanted a wife, many a girl would have jumped at the chance like a rooster at a grassnopper. ! But Bill was so bashful?always was?and j when Susan Berrybottle, that he was sweet J on (though he never said "boo" to her) got j married to old Watson, he just drawed in his | head like a raud-turtle mto his shell, and there i was no getting hitn out again, though it had i been noticed that since Susan had become a | widow he had paid more attention to his j clothes, and had been very regular in bis at- j tendance at the church where the fair widow ] attended. "But here comes Ed. Wilbur." "Good morning, Mr. Smiley." "Good morning, Mr. Wilbur. Whats the news your way ?" "Oh! nothing particular that I know of," said Ed., "only Barnum's show that everybody is talking about, and everybody and his girl is going to. I was over to Sackrider's last night, and I see his son, Gus, has got a new buggy and was scrubbing up his harness, and he's got that white faced colt of his as sleek as a seal. I understand he thinks of | taking Widow Watson to the show. He's been hanging rouud there a good deal of late,i but I'd just like to cut him out, I would. Susan is a nice little woman, and deserves a better man than that young pup of a fellow, though I wouldn't blame her much either, if she takes him, for she must be dreadful lone- j some, and theu she has to let her farm out on ' i __j ).?,J ?i snares, auu 1L isu t nan nuitvcu, auu uu unc else seems to have spunk enough to speak up to her. By jiugo! If I was a single mau I'd show him a trick or two." So saying, Ed. borrowed some bags and started around the corner of the barn, where he had left Bill sweeping, and put his ear to a knot-holeaud listened, knowing that the! bachelor had a habit of talking to himself whenanythiug worried him. "Confound that young Bagrider!" said Bill; "what"business has he there, I'd like to know. Got a new buggy, has he? Well, so have I, and new harness, too! and his horse can't come in sight of mine, and I declare I've half a mind to?yes, I will! I'll go this very night and ask her to go to the show with me. I'll show Ed. Wilbur that I ain't such a calf as he thinks I am, if I did let old Wat son get the start or me id the nrst place: Ed. could scarcely help laughing outright, but he hastily hitched the bags on his shoulder, aud with a low chuckle at his success, started home to tell the news to Nelly; and about five o'clock that evening they saw Bill go by j with his horse and buggy on his way to the widow's. He jogged along quietly, thinking | of the old singing-school days?and what a pretty girl Susan was theu?aud wondering i inwardly if he would have more courage now to talk up to her, until at the distance of about a mile from her house he came to a bridge? over a large creek?and it so happened that just as he reached the middle of the bridge he gave a tremendous sneeze, and blew his teeth clear out of his mouth, and clear over tne dash-board, and striking on the planks they rolled over the bridge and dropped into four feet of water. Words cannot do justice to poor Bill, or paint the expression of his face as he sat there, completely dumfounded at this startling piece of ill luck. After a while he stepped out of the buggy, and getting on his hands and knees looked over the water. "Yes, there they were," at the bottom, with a crowd of little fishes rubbing their noses against them, and Bill wished to goodness that his nose was as close for one second. His beautiful teeth that had cost him so much, aud the show* coming on and no time to get * 1 i? ?: J J auomer set?auu me wiuow uuu young oaonrider. Well, he must try and get them some how?aud no time to lose, for some one might come along and ask hira what he was fooling around there for. He had no notion of spoiling his good clothes by wading in with them on, and besides, if he did that he could not go to the widow's that night, so he took a look up and down the road to see that no one was iu sight, and then quickly undressed himself, laying his clothes in the buggy to keep them clean. Then he ran around the hank and waded into the almost icy water, but his teeth did not chatter in his head; he only wished they could. Quietly he waded aloug so as not to stir up the mud,and when he got to the right spot he dropped under the water and came up with the teeth in his hand and replaced them in his mouth. But hark! What noise is that ? A wagon ! aud a little dog barking with all his might, and his horse is starting. "Whoa ! Whoa !" said Bill, as he splashed and floundered out through mud and water, "confound the horse. Whoa! Whoa! Stop, you brute you, stop!" But stop he would not, but went off at a spanking pace with the uufortunate bachelor after him and the little dog yelping after the bachelor. Bill was certaiuly in capital running costume, but j though he strained every nerve he could not J touch the buggy or reach the lines that were dragging on the ground. After a while his plug hat shook off the seat and the hind wheel went over it, making it as flat as a pancake. | Bill snatched it as he ran, and after jamming hisjfist into it, stuck it, all dusty and shape. less, on his head. And now he saw the wid; ow's house on the hill, and what, oh what ( would he do! Then his coat fell out aud he I slipped it on, and then making a desperate spurt he clutched the back of the seat and j ' scrambled in, and pulling the buffalo robe j over his legs, stuffed the other things beueath. ! Now the horse happened to be one that he j got from Squire Moore, and he got it from the j ; widow, and he took it into his head to stop at i ; her gate, which Bill had no power to prevent, j as he had not possession of the reins, besides ! he was too busy buttoning his coat up to his ; chin to think of doing much else. The widow j heard the rattle of the wheels and looked out, j ; and seeing that it was Mr. Smiley, and as he did j ! not offer to get out, she weut to the gate to see j what he wanted, and there she stood chatting j with her white arms on the top of the gate, j and her smiling face turned right toward him, I while the cold chills ran down his shirtless ! nlnn? kin k > ra foot Koilpntll thp hllffh- i j UICUI II\J Alio VMIV IVVW ... - ? ' lo robe, and the water from his hair and the dust from his hat had combined to make some nice little streams of mud that came trickling down his face. She asked him to come in. No; he was in a hurry, he said. Still he did not offer to go. He did not like to ask her to pick up his reins for him, because he did not know what excuse to make for not doing it himself. Then he looked down the road behind him and saw a white-faced horse coming, and at once surmising that it was that of Gus Sackrider coming, he resolved to do or die, and hurriedly told his errand. The widow would be delighted to go ; of course she would. But wouldn't he come in. No, he was in a hurry he said ; had to go on to Mr. Greene's place. "Oh!" said the widow; you're going to Green's, are you ? Why, I was just going there myself to get one of the girls to help me quilt some. Just wait a second while I get my bonnet and shawl, and 111 ride with you." And away she skipped. "Thunder and lightning!" said Bill, "what ; a scrape!" and he hastily clutched his pants from between his feet, and was preparing to wriggle into them, when a light wagon, drawn by a white-faced horse, driven by a boy, came along and stopped beside him. The boy held up a pair of boots in one hand and a pair of socks in the other, and just as the widow reached the gate again, he said? "Here's your boots and your socks, Mr. Smiley, that you left on the bridge when you wasin swimming." "You're mistaken," said Bill, "they're not mine." "Why," said the boy, "ain't you the man that had the race after the horse just now ?" | "No, sir, I atn not! you had better go on I I ~ 1 i. ?- " T2?I1 oinrkor) of tllD ]HQQ auuui juui uuaiucoc. asiia oiguvu i*v vnv .w?w of hisSunday hoots, and turning to the widow he said? "Just pick up the lines, will you, please; this brute of a horse is forever switchiug them out of ray hands." The widow complied, and then he pulled oue corner of the robe cautiously down, and she got in. "What a lovely evening," she said, "and so , warm ; I don't think we need the robe over j us, do we?" (You see, she had on a nice dress and a ; I pair of new gaiters, and she wanted to show | them.) "0, ray !" said Bill, earnestly, "you'll find j it chilly riding, and I wouldn't have you to | catch cold for the world." She seemed pleased at the tender care for j her health, and contented herself with stick- j ing one of her little feet out, with a long silk ; necktie over the end of it. "What is that Mr. Smiley?a neck-tie ?" "Yes," said he, "I bought it the other day, \ and I must have left it in the buggy. Never mind it." "But it was so careless," she said, and stooping over she picked it up and made a motion to stuff it in between them. Bill felt her hand going down, and making ; a dive after it, clutched it in his and held it hard and fast. They went on quite a distance, he still hold-! ing her soft little hand in his and wondering ' what he should do when they got to Green's, and she wondering why he didn't say something nice to her as well as squeeze her hand, j and why his coat was buttoned up so tightly ' on such a warm evening, and what made his face and hat so dirty, until, as they were going down a little hill one of the traces came un- i hitched and they had to stop. "0 murder!" said Bill; "whatnext?" "What is the matter, Mr. Smiley ?" said the widow, with a start that came near jerking the robe off his knees, j "One of the traces is off," said he. "Well, why don't you get out and put it | on ?" "I can't," said Bill; "I've got?that is, I 1 haven't got?oh ! dear, I'm so sick! What shall I do?" "Why, Willie," said she, tenderly, "what is the matter? do tell me," and she gave his hand a little squeeze, and looking into his pale and troubled face she thought he was going to j faint; so she got out her smelling bottle with 1 her left hand, and pulling the stopper out with ' her teeth she stuck it to his nose. Bill was just taking in breath for a mighty sigh, and the pungent odor made him throw i his head so far back that he lost his balance and went over the low-backed buggy. The woman gave a little scream as his big bare j 1 feet flew past her head ; and covering her face with her hands gave way to her tears, or i smiles?it is hard to tell which. Bill was ! "right side up" in a moment, and was leaning over the back of the seat humbly apologizing and explaining, when Ed. Wilbur, with his wife and baby, drove up behind and stopped. Poor Bill felt that he would rather have been shot than have Ed. Wilbur catch him in such a scrape, but there was no help for it now, so he called Ed. to him and whispered in his ear. Ed. was like to burst with suppressed laughter, j but he beckoned to his wife to drive up, and j after saying something to her, he helped the ! widow out of Bill's buggy and into his own, , and the two women went on, leaving the men behind. Bill lost 110 time in arranging his toilet as well as he could, aud then with great | persuasion Ed. got him to go home with* him,1 j and hunting up slippers and socks and getting him washed and combed, had him quite presentable when the ladies arrived. I need not I tell how the story was wormed out of bashful j Bill, and how they all laughed as they sat around the tea-table that night, but will con- j elude by saying that they went to the show j together and Bill has no fear of Gus Sack-1 j rider now. This is a true story about Bill and the ' widow, just as I had it from Ed. Wilbur, and if there is anything unsatisfactory about it, ask him. A sad commentary on the politics of the empire State is the following suggestive paragraph iu the New York Graphic, if it is only true, and perhaps it does not go far from the mark: "It is morally certain that of the 128 assemblymen the great State of New York : will choose to day, at least 80 will be purI chaseable for sums at from 825 to $500." |His?IIauc0ns ftodiug. SAVED BY A RABBIT. While my friend Clyde and myself were out in the hills back of the Golden Gate park, a jack rabbit came along and stopped to look at us. "If I had thought to bring my revolver along we should have jack on toast for breakfast to morrow," I remarked. "Not with my consent," he replied. "What reasons can you give for not consenting?" "A rabbit saved my life, and I have not killed one since, and never will kill one again." "How did he raauage to save your life?" "Three years ago I was living in Montana. A smelter had just been built, and it created a demand for silver rock. I owned an interest in a lead that had been sunk on thirty feet. Thinking the time had come to make it available, I concluded to go there and get some ore, aud have it tested. I did so, and reached the place just in time to take shelter in the mine from a terrible hail-storm.? I lightened my caudle, went to the bottom, and went to work. I had not been there more than five minutes when I heard a noise that sounded like the report of a cannon. The rocks over my head shook, and in a moment the shaft behind me caved. You can imagine my feeliugs better than I can describe them, when I found myself buried alive. I tremble even at this distant day when I think of that moment. The roof of the shaft was rocks, aud, when they came down they did not pack so tight but what the air came through. There was nothing that I could do to release myself. I knew that if relief did not come from the outside I must perish. No one knew I had gone there. A road ran past the mouth of the shaft, hut it was not traveled much, aud I was not likely to attract attention by calling; nevertheless, I shouted at intervals all day. The following morning I commenced calling again; and all day, whenever I thought I heard a sound, I shouted. "When night came again all hopes of being released had abandoned me. One thing added great bitterness to ray sufferings. I owed quite a large amount of money, and should my fate remain unknown, my creditors would think I had fled to defraud them, and my name would be stigmatized. "I will not dwell on the agonies I endured ; I am sorry I cannot forget them. "The morning of the fourth day of my imprisonment I heard something crawl into my grave, I lighted ray candle and saw a rabbit. There was only one aperture large enough to admit him; I closed it to prevent his escape. I saw in him food to appease my hunger, and my hand was raised to kill him, when a thought occurred to me that prevented the blow from descending. I had two fish lines ; their united length would reach the road. I took off my shirt, tore it into strings, tied them together, and on to the fish-line. I wore a long gold watch chain ; I tied it on to the part of the line that would cross the road. I then cut several leaves from ray diary, wrote on them my condition, and tied them on to | that part of the line that would be outside. I i then tied the cord made out of my shirt j arnnnd .Tack's neck, and let him out. He | soon reached the end of the line, and I knew by the way he was pulling that he was making desperate efforts to escape. Soon the tugging stopped, and, knowing gnawing to be Jack's chief accomplishment, I thought he had cut himself loose. About three hours afterward I felt the line pulled, then some one called. I tried to answer, but the hoarse noise I made died in the cavern. I then pulled the line to show I was not dead. "All grew still again, and I knew the man had gone for assistance. Then came the sound of voices. I pulled the line, and it brought me food. It took all the men who could work in the shaft nine hours to reach me. "A very large pine tree that stood near the shaft had been the cause of my misfortune. It had been dead a number of years, and the storm had blown it over. The terrible blow it struck the ground had caused the cave. "Jack had wound the line around a bush, and tied himself so short that he was imprisoned outside as securely as I had been inside, He was taken'to town, put in a large cage, and supplied with all the rabbit delicacies the market afforded. He, however, did not thrive, * % a i. _ j and the hoys, oeneving inai ne pineu iu thought,' voted to set hira free. He was then taken back to his old girdling grounds and liberated. "He not only saved my life, but became the benefactor of all the rabbits in the neighborhood?the miners refraining from shooting any, fearing it might be him." - > REDUCTION OF WAGES, ETC. It is rumored in manufacturing circles that the pay of employes in cotton and woolen mills in the New England and Middle States, will be reduced on the first of next January? when the mills start up on full time. This is what we have anticipated, and as the manu facturers are said to be nnited iu this proposed reduction, it will probably be carried out, and without much opposition from the operatives. The competition in the manufacture of cotton an woolen goods is now so strong that a temporary expedient (running mills on reduced time) will not answer. That exigency only unloads the market of surplus goods: and after our mills have run again for six months on full time, it is even feared that our markets will be again glutted?just as ; they have been for a year past. The result will be that goods must come down in price, J and stay down; and to meet this result the J manufacturers must produce their goods at less cost. We are now on the eve of great changes in j finance and industry, and the industrial classes will have to make sacrifices alike with , capital. Both flourished and spread them- j selves through the war, and years afterward? i on great profits and high wages?and now both must accept a different programme, a lower basis. The manufacturers must be catiofinrl with amollon nrnfifc unrl tl\r? nnoni. tives with less pay. This is inevitable. A high tide of rapid wealth and unbroken prosperity cannot be perpetuated. For years we have been going up, kiting and ballooning in all trades aud professions, but now we must, come down. The ebb of inflation, extrava- j gance, sudden wealth and high wages, is at hand. This shifting epoch in manufacturing interests, and in mill labor, will not be confined to that industry or that class. Every other trade will have to follow the receding tide. Merchants, builders, clergymen, butchers, tailors, farmers, landlords, railway corporations, and every other branch of business employing capital or labor, must come down to less profits, to smaller wages and more reas-1 onable gains. Everybody has been living too fast, living too extravagant, and often on | anticipated profits. This sort of life has had a decided influence in producing the "hard times." which is now the prevailing cry. We have brought misfortune upon ourselves by our inordinate greed, by our too sharp ; bargains within our own household, by grasping for more than we needed or deserved. Of course, there will be people who will seriously object to less gains for capital, and less wages for labor. But that will not avail anything. The tendency of the times is for reduction in the cost of producing goods, reduction in the price of merchandise, reduction j in all the expenses of living. If we earn less I ! wages in the future, we can purchase food,! clothing and all articles of prime necessity at! I reduced prices. Hence, we shall gain as 1 j much as we loose. Besides, it will be through i this revolution in industry and labor that we (shall reach better times.? Woonsocket (R. I.) \ Patriot THE MBLE. ' There may be a few of our readers who are i unacquainted with the following biblical facts, I consequently we insert them for their special j : benefit. The Scriptures have been translated j ; into one hundred and forty-eight languages aud dialects, of which one hundred and twen! ty-one had, prior to the formation of the Brit- j j ish Foreign Bible Society, never appeared. I And twenty-five of those languages existed ; I without an oral form. Upward of forty-three ! millions of these copies of God's work are cirj culated among not less than six hundred millions of people. The first division of the Divine orders into j chapters and verses is attributed to Stephen ! Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the I reign of King J^bn, in the latter part of the 12th century or vj^inning of the thirteenth, j Cardinal Hugo, in the middle of the thirteenth century, divided the Old Testament into chapters as they stand in our translation. In 1661 Athias, a Jew of Amsterdam, divided ths secI tion of Hugo in verses. A French printer had I n-nninncln in 175fi rlivirlpH the New Testa till,* , raent into verses as they now are. The Old Testament contains 39 books, 929 chapters, 23,214 verses, 592,439 words, and 2,738,100 letters. The New Testament contains 27 books, 270 chapters, 23,214 verses, 132,253 words, and 933,380 letters. The entire Bible contains 66 books, 1,190 chapters, 31,173 verses, 773,692 words, 3,566,480 letters. The name of Jehovah, or Lord, occurs, 6,885 times in the Old Testament. The word "and" occurs in the Old Testament 35,543 times. The middle book of the Old Testament is Proverbs. The middle chapter is the 20th of Job. The middle verse is the 2d Chronicles, 26th chapter, 17th verse. I The middle book of the New Testament is 2d Thessalonians. The middle chapters are Romans 18 and 14. The middle verse is Acts 11 :17. The middle chapter, and the least in the Bible, is Psalms 1:17. The middle verse in the Bible is Psalms 18:8. ' The least verse in the Old Testament is 1st Chronicle, 1: 25. The least verse in the Bible is John 11: 35. The 19th chapter of 2d Kings and Isaiah 37 are the same. Iu the 21st verse of 7th chapter of Ezra are all the letters of the alphabet, I and J consid- i ered as one. The Apocrypha (not inspired, but sometimes bound between the Old Testament and the New) contains 14 books, 183 chapters 15,081 ( verses, 125,185 words. i The preceding facts were ascertained by a gentleman in 1718 ; also by an Englishman i residing at Amsterdam in 1722, and it is said to i have taken each gentleman three years in the i investigation. i There is a bible in the library of the Uni- ; versity of Gottengen written on 2,576 palm- ' leaves. A sheckle of gold was 88.09. A talent of silver was $516.32. A talent of gold was $13,809. Apiece of silver or penny was thirteen cents. A farthing was three cents. ( A gerhem was one cent. i A mite was one and a half cents. A homer contains seventy-five gallons and five pints. A hin was one gallon and two pints. A ferkin was seven pints. An omer was six pints. The divisions of the Old Testament are four: j 1. The Pentateuch, or the four books of i Moses. 2. The historical books, comprising Joshua to Esther, inclusive. 3. Poetical and doctrinal books, from Job I to Songs of Solomon, inclusive. The New Testament is usually divided into i three parts: 1 TTiafrirlrtol ormtalninnr thp fniir CrflSnel9 and Acts. i 2. Doctrinal, containing all the epistles from Romans to Judges. i 3. Prophetical, being the book of Revela! tion of St. John. THE FRISKY FLEA. j The average woman hates a flea with an in- < I tensity almost diabolical in its nature. She j will pursue one of these little innocents with ; the remorselessness of a fiend, and if you ever expect to see a beautiful exemplification of i i womanly traits, never look for it when she knows that a flea is about. And in propor- I j tion as a woman hates, the flea seems to love, , and is never enjoying ecstatic bliss unless favored with hersociety. He likes to seek her < couch in the stilly hours of the night, woo her I from slumber, and from a sheltered nook wit- 1 ness her feverish exertions to escape his caresses ; but perhaps he does not reach the | acme of enjoyment until he can accompany 1 her to nhureh and not make his presence < known until she has satisfactorily settled her i furbelows and flounces on the cushioned seat i all ready to be admired and make note of how f others look. And then the flea begins his 1 manipulations, knowing full well that he has i his victim at a disadvantage. Here there can i be no hasty flinging of skirts, no assuming of I unbecoming postures while making frantic 1 grabs at the mischievous and inaccessible raon- 1 ster. If you note the woman closely, you will 1 see a compression of the lip and a look of j i hate and pain creeping into the face which I ' she would fain conceal and not reveal, for are !: not many eyes upon her? One moment she i settles herself a little more firmly on one side as though hoping to crush the aggressor, but the next moment feels him scampering up- ] ward, when she settles backward quickly to I catch him between her back and the rail, but i all in vain?his flag is still there. One dainty i gaiter may rub up against its fellow as far as i may be done without disarranging drapery,: 2 and there may be a quiet, yet nevertheless 1 ] vicious clutch of a jeweled hand under the ir pretense of arranging flowing drapery, but all j ? in vaiu. And the flea, how does he enjoy it? ( He roams hither and thither at his own sweet j 1 will, uncaring for the boiling wrath which j 1 fairly makes the white flesh upon which he : { nlavs shiver beneath his light tread. And ; 1 I -v ^ ^ perhaps the flea has his mate, and then the j t anguish is doubled. At one moment they ; i are playing tag; at another hide and seek, i t and while the one is cozily nestled away, the 1 other rushes hither and thither to find it in a c way that is maddening; and then they act the ? part of explorers, and prospect every hill and c dale of the form divine. But one thing they j 1 do not do, they do not go to sleep. And du- 1 ? ring this hour of martyrdom how the wrath i 1 of the woman gathers, and how only thoughts ! I of dire vengeance make the brief agony en- j r durable. But at last the service which has \ seemed so long is ended, and with as much a majesty as her writhing form will permit, she a sails home without loitering you may be sure. ' r The house reached, with one bound she is I c within the privacy of her own chamber, and J c there all restraint is cast aside. With light- a ning haste, off come the barricades behind r which the flea found intrenchmeut, and at t last she stands like a gladiator stripped for f the fight, and then the fate of the invader is a sealed. He is pursued with remorseless fury, ' and the battle does not end urtil the victor shakes aloft the scalp of the foe, and rows that; so perish always the flea who dares to invade the sacred territory of her person. THE END OITTHE WAR. Middle-aged and old people are more or less afflicted with chronic disorders, the re-, suit of overwork, indiscretions, exposure to : the elements, or something else. Political parties are similarly afflicted, especially par- j ties which have had a long lease of power, j They take severe colds, catch malignant fe-; vers, have rheumatic attacks, paralysis, and i sometimes get a broken leg, back or neck. They are all mortal, inhale disease, grow old, I and pass away like everything else in this sad j world. Political philosophers are now telling us j why the recent conservative re-ueuuu nap- i pened; and it is really amusing to hear that J it was the result of so many different causes. In Massachusetts they say it was the prohibi-j tory fever, and the Butler plague, that so ! wrecked the Republican party. In New York it was the third terra ague, and the hard times rheumatism, that rolled up an opposition majority of fifty thousand. In New Jersey a bad currency cough demoralized the people, and not even apple-brandy could assuage their sorrows. Down in Dixie it was the civil rights pestilence that frightened the white voters ; while out West it was inflation gout, and paper money ague, that did most of the mischief. There is little doubt but local issues had some influence in the elections, yet it will not do to attribute the great revolt to them alone. The people have been dissatisfied for a long time, but party sympathy induced them to smother their discontent and look to the future for redress. They had become dissatisfied with the President on various issues vital to the prosperity of the nation ; dissatisfied with Congress in legislating for a party, and not for the people; diisatisfied with a currency which misrepresents the law of values, and which, to a considerable extent, has paralyzed our various branches of industry. The people were also tired of bad leadership, exemplified in Butler, illustrated by Congressional back-pay thefts, and more vitally associated with Credit Mobilier legislation and fraud. Political parties in this country are shortlived, and possess no hereditary prerogatives. They originate in issues connected with our industry, with our progress, with our prosperity. And when these issues become obsolete, parties go to decay, and are thrust aside by the people. The Republican party has existed since 1857. It carried us successfully through the Rebellion, and by its war record has chiefly maintained its authority and supremacy. It is not dead yet, perhaps not seriously crippled ; but the blows are evidence of serious discontent, evidence also of intended | rebuke. The great mass of the people (of all parties) are honest; they demand good gov- 1 ernmeut, they want it honestly administered, and they intend to have upright, honorable and faithful officers. Furthermore, the people now believe that the political war is over, that Butlerisra is a pestilent crime, and that ' ' J ?L-U! fit.. Ltie organizing auu upnuiuing ui mc uuum uu a party basis is a great wrong. In brief, eveery honest voter declared that the thirteen years' war had terminated.? Woonsocket (R. I.) Patriot. "NORTH CAROLINA SKETCHES.'' Ex-Governor Vance, writing under this head in the Norfolk Landmark, tells the subjoined anecdotes: For a season ofseveral months immediately succeeding the close of our late war, we were absolutely without law or rulers of any kind whatever; the military stationed in a few principal towns being unable or unwilling to take cognizance of offenses except in the immediate vicinity. And yet there never was a land in a more thorough condition of peace and good order. So profoundly was this regard for law impressed upon our people that it amounted in some cases to a subiirae virtue. A reverend Scotch gentleman of my acquain- : tance, who under the influence of mammon had married during the war an invalid and rather hard-looking old maid for the sake of 6ftv neeroes. was told by a joker, after John 3ton's surrender, that the Yankees had set the negroes free, and were going to abolish every thing done during the rebellion, even to the dissolution of all marriages contracted during that time. "Aweel, aweel, Duncan, my mou," said the overmarried Scot, "we maun submit. I'm a law abidiri mon !" In further evidence of our law-abiding character,! am reminded that years ago, before the war, a very illiterate but honest and determined citizen of one of our mountain counties was appointed a justice of the peace. Filled with the dignity and consequence of his office, | he soon after attended a militia muster in his ! neighborhood. After the drill the treating by the candidates began, and after that came the fighting in the usual and regular order. When the first couple began to strip for the wager of battle, the new-born squire, instead of turning his back according to the good old ; fashion of our peace guardians, or permitting j himself to be carried off with a show of gentle j violence, as was sometimes done, marched ; promptly to the front, and sternly commanded j the peace in the name of the State. No attention being paid to this reasonable com-1 mand, and the crowd beginning to hustle him | and tell him to stand off aud see fair play, he | sprang in between the combatants, drew a j1 home-made bowie, with a blade eight inches 1 in length, and exclaimed, "Look here, gentle-; men ! I'm a peace officer, duly appinted by j' the Ginral Assembly, and 1 ain't agom to oe fooled with. Now the fust man that strikes a ^ lick in my presence, I'll dissectesate him with | this! The peace shall be kept while I'm ' around and it was. The majesty of the law ; was vindicated by the shining steel of her i zealous servant, and the fight was postponed ? is indefinitely as Felix's repentance. i j Smiley's Gun.?Recently it occurred to ' Mr. Smiley, of Darby, that it would be a good j j thing to go out to see if he could not shoot a , rabbit or two. Pie always kept his gun loaded ind ready in the corner of the room, so he merely shouldered it and went out. After lwhile he saw a rabbit, and taking aim he ;, nulled the trigger. The gun failed to go off. j j Then he pulled the other trigger, and the cap < ( mapped again, and then, taking a pin, he picky ] id the nipples of the gun, primed them with a'!, ittle powder, and started again. ' Presently jj le saw another rabbit, but both caps snap-! j led again. The rabbit did not see Smiley, so j le put on more caps and then they snapped { .00. Then Smiley cleaned out the nipples ;, igain, primed them, and fired the gun off at g i fence. Then the caps snapped again. Srai-! j ey became furious, and in his rage he expen*: j led forty-seven caps in an effort to make the j ;un gooff. When the forty-seventh cap miss- J ] id also, Smiley thought there might perhaps ( ie something the matter with the inside of the : y ;?n, so he tried the barrels with his ramrod, i [ To his utter dismay he discovered that both j >arrels were empty. Mrs. Smiley, who is a lervous about firearms, had drawn the loads , j vithout telling Smiley, for fear of making him c tngry. If there had been a welkin anywhere j ibout, it would probably have been made to | ing with Mr. Srailey's excited denunciations j d if Mrs. Smiley. Finally, however, he became , h :ooler, and loading both barrels, he started , c igain after rabbits. He saw one in a few mo- j li nents, and was about to fire, when he noticed j t hat there were no caps on his gun. He felt j h oroue, and to his dismay found that he had ji napped the last one off. Then he ground his I e teeth and walked home. On his way there he saw at least six hundred rabbits. He has j been out hunting every day since, however, with his gun in first-rate order, and he has never laid eyes on a solitary rabbit. Smiley is beginning to think something is wrong in the government of the universe. LET THEMVORK. There never was a truer anxiom uttered than that which couples Satan's name with idle hands; and parents who have boys to bring up should never forget this. A great | many boys are mischievous and vicious simply j because their activities are not directed in proper channels, and for this their parents are the only ones to blame. The boy who has a sled, possibly of his own making, and a pocket-knife, who has skates for the winter aud kites for the summer, who has his own garden patch and garden-tools, his own juvenile library of such books as he loves, his favorite pet animals, is almost sure to be industrious, happy and free from vice. If he shows an aptitude for drawing, pencils and drawing-paper should be supplied ; if painting, a box of colors should be furnished, if for type-setting, he should have a miniature printing-press; and, in one way?in fact, many ways?his capabilities should be so cultivated that he will never be at a loss how to employ his time pleasantly and profitably. In furnishing your boys with a wisely-selected stock of tools, you confer upon them a benefit which is incalculable. To be sure, many a knife or gimlet will be lost and must be replaced before the habit of thoughtfulness is formed which will prevent losses; tools will be injured, often destroyed ; the quiet of the family will be disturbed by hammering and sawing, unless there is a workshop on the premises ; shavings and such like clean dirt will be of frequent occurrence in the kitchen, regular chores will be forgotten and neglected in the enthusiasm of the boy to finish some task he has in hand; but these circumstances are trifling compared with the benefits to be derived from the constant and habitual use of tools. "Boys make 1 1 1 -1-1 1 x t_A 4.^ 1. ? men," ana tney snouin oo iaugnu iu lunttc useful raen ; knowledge never comes intuitively; it must be transmitted. The father who will not take the trouble to direct the expanding energies of his boy, to lead his inquiring mind to the pastures of knowledge, ever fresh and fair, and open for the child a career, humble though it be, is laying up for himself disappointment, chagrin, perhaps heart-break, in the future. When your boy stands at your side, book in hand, and begs you to explain the pictures to him, don't send him away until you have done it. Encourage him to look at pictures and ask questions about them ; tell him stories that will stimulate his longings to read interesting and instructive books, of which happily there is no end. Thus occupied with tools, books, work and play, he will grow up accustomed to find resources within himself, and not be driven to seek idle or vicious company. Weddingb.?As the semi-annual bridal season is at hand, it is the time to plead for a reform in weddings. 'Every year this sacredest of all occasions is turned more and more into a mere opportunity for display, and for replying to some fancied social obligation. Instead of the time when a few of the closest friends gather to witness the solemnest compact human beings can frame, it is chosen as the moment for bringing together the larger part of a family's social circle, to show the bride in her bridal garments; to prove how many flowers and refreshments the family can afford; and, with shame be it said, to exhibit to criticism and light comment the precious tokens that should have come with tender regard to the bride on the eve of her new life. A wedding must not be uncheerful; but it must certainly be solemn to all who realize mViot if io (~>n nne sido if. is rvmnunmnfr old ties, promising to begin with faith, and hope, and love a new and wholly untried existence. On the other, it is the acceptance of a sacred trust, the covenant to order life anew in such ways as shall make the happiness of two instead of one. Can such an occasion be fitting for revelry? Is it not wiser, more delicate, to bid only the nearest of friends to a marriage ceremony, and leaving the feasting and frolic for a subsequent time ? We are sure there are few girls who, if they reflect on the seriousness of the step they are about to take, will not choose to make their vow merely within the loving limits of their home circle. All our best instincts point to the absolute simplicity and privacy of wedding services; only j a perversion of delicacy could contemplate the asking of crowds of half-sympathetic or wholly curious people to attend the fulfillment of the most solemn of contracts.?Scribner's. How to Estimate the Profits of a Earm.?The farmer lives in his own house. The use of the house, which he doese not pay for, is as much a part of his income as the money which a salaried man pays for rent, is of his, and should he counted as sucn in an estimate of the profits of the farm. All things produced on the farm and consumed on the farmer's table, including the vegetables from the garden, the eggs and milk used in cooking, are as much a part of his income as the money paid for such things out of his salary is of the salaried man. If a farmer gives his wife and children a pleasant ride to town, using his own horses and wagon, the value of their use is part of his income from his farm, as truly as the money the man pays out of his salary for carriage hire is of his. The correct rule for estimating the income from a farm is substantially this: Give credit for every article produced, used, or expended in any way whatever, no matter how small in value, as well as for cash received for products sold, i and for increased value of farm property,! 3 -.1 -r? *ltA IViwovt infaroaf An I LillU ClJUX'gC U^iwuau LUC jai hi JU1 1UKVIVOV vu capital invested, and for all expenditures. The farmer that will do this from year to year, will not so much feel like complaining of the unprofitableness of farming as compared with other pursuits. The fact isf not one in a hundred farmers take into consideration the luxury and comforts of fresh eggs, butter, milk, fruits, etc., that they would nave to pay high prices for if they lived in towns, or do without them. In Love with a Wax Pigure.?A man lamed Justin had just died at Bicetre, whose lunacy had a very singular origin. He was 1 in exhibitor of waxwork figures, and one of lis models was the figure of a young girl, renarkable for her graceful form and perfect j Matures, her hair falling in long curls over i ler naked shoulders. Justin showed a latent 1 nsanity long before his mind actually gave (i iway, for he fell passionately in love with his i i vaxen Galatea, and would contemplate her in ; lilent admiration for hours. His wife could: ' - 1 *-1-- *1 ?? ?.,?u )0t oe expecteu IU last; Hie luaiici YYjtu .ouen ndifference, but her remonstrances only infu-! I iated him. One day she could stand it no i onger, and she gave to the wax beauty sun- j 1 Iry blows with a broomstick. The enraged ! I msband then tried to kill his wife, but neigh- I >ors interfered, and saved her from his vio-! < ence. Deprived ofhis treasure he went mad, s tud sojourned at Bicetre five years. To the ast, it is said, the vision of his inanimate barmer was before him. The Man Who Drinks?The man who 11 Irinks not only injures himself and family, 1 tut he is an injury to all those with whom he 1 omes in contact in the way of business. If i ie is a doctor he endangers the life of hisr'pa-11 ients, if a lawyer he fails to do his duty to j lis client, and if a laborer he wrongs and in-: i ores his employer by getting under the influ-11 nee of liquor, and thus incapacitating him-' 1 self for properly performing ms jauur. jxuj man in business, who has employed a number of workmen, knows how inconvenient it is, to say nothing of the pecuniary loss and disappointment of customers, to have a man on whom he is depending to perform a certain piece of work, turn up drunk, and consequently untrustworthy, in the midst of a rush of business. In this way hundreds suffer from the use of intoxicants who personally never indulge in their use. Thus it is that a man who is steady and faithful to his employment, whatever that may be, even though not so competent in some respects, is a more desirable man to his employer than he who, by the use of intoxicating drinks, renders himself unreliable; and the former will find employment and prosper, where the latter is always liable to be without hnainess. A Woman's Cold Feet.?Mrs. Battles suffers from cold feet, and the other night she warmed up a brick, intending to take it to bed with her. She laid it down by the bedside while she attended to the baby, and then forgot about it and turned in. After awhile Battles came over to the bedroom, and when be had assumed his night shirt, he begau to say his prayers. When he was about half through, he happened to move his knee a little to the left, and it came in contact with the brick. For an instant he thought that something had stung him, and, jumping up,he came back to ascertain what it was. He saw the brick lying there, but it never occurred to him that this was the cause of the trouble, so he picked it up for the purpose of throwing it out of the window. Then he suddenly dropped it with a cry of pain, and, after an indignant denunciation of Mrs. Battles, he procured a piece of paper, and in a furious rage hurled the brick through the window sash. It hit a policeman who happened to be standing on the pavement below, and in less than ten minutes Battles was on bis way to the station-house, where he was locked up all night on a charge of assault and battery. He was released in the morning after paying twenty dollars fine. He has not finished his prayers yet, and Mrs. Battles now warms her feet with a flannel petticoat.?Mac Adeler. 4.^.4. JB?1" Reminscences of Lincoln by his law nootnar on/t frl'onrt TTprndnn ! He WaS the bllVi UIIVi ?* av*av>| ~ ?. ? . greatest and best man I ever knew. J think he always felt he was dedicated to some great service. They tell a story that when he was a youth he chided his sister for a want of propriety, when some one present asked : "And pray what do you expect to make of yourself?" "President of the United States," was the answer. I never in my life knew as honest a man. Now, in our business relations he never received a fee, little or big, that he did not divide it equally, and folding up one part in a piece of paper, write ray name upon it. When I rallied him for it, he replied that he might die suddenly some time, and all accounts between us would thus be settled. I never saw him give way to his anger but once. Then an audience refused to . hear a man speak, and he swung down in the crowd aud declared that the liberty of speech should be denied no man without cause. The opposition was at once put down.- Usually his custom was to go offhimself when excited. Even in the many political discourses held in our front offices, if the debate grew warm he would go off in the back room and stay a while. He was the most loving and patient man that ever lived, and a man whose greatness grows upon the minds of the people. Don't Depend on Father.?Young man, let us talk to vou. You have trusted alone to the contents of your father's purse,"or his fair fame, for your influence or success in business. Think you that father has attained eminence in his profession but by unwearied industry ? Or that he has amassed a fortune honestly without energy or activity? You should know that the faculty requisite for the acquiring of fame or fortune is essential to, nay, inseparable from, the attainment of either of these. Suppose "father" has "rocks" in abundance; if you have never earned anything for him, you have no more business with these rocks than a gosling has with a tortoise. And if he allows you to meddle with them until you have gained them by your own industry, he DerDetuates untold mischief. And if he is lavish of his cash toward you, while he is allowing you to while away your time, you had better leave home?yes, runaway, sooner than be an imbecile, or something worse, through so enervating an influence. Sooner or later you must learn to rely on your own resources, or you will not be anything. A Lively Cherub?If there is a man in Springfield, says the Journal, (this Springfield being in Illinois,) so heartless and gruff that he doesn't love children, he would havs been softened yesterday if he had stood on the west side of the square and seen and heard a sweet little cherub of three bright summers, weep and howl and pound its little buggy with its little footsy tootsies, and yell ? - * ' --J ?i J and ramp ana one ana squeai aim sou uuu screech because they wouldn't give it that wolf sign in front of a hat store for a buggy horse. If the wolf hadn't been securely fastened down we believe the cherub would have had it. As it was, its ma had to buy it a little painted wolf, and the iufant sucked all the paint off it Before they got home. At least we saw four doctors tearing along the streets where the infant lives in less than an hour afterward. B6F A wonderful piece of mechanism has recently been produced in Europe by F. Schroeder, an Amsterdam jeweller. It is called the "Great Mechanical City," and is twenty feet by fifteen feet wide. There are houses, castles, churches and stores in it, just as they appear in almost any European city. People walk and ride about. Horses and wagons ana railway cars pass through the streets. Boats pass up and down the river, while some are loading and others unloading at the docks. Mills are in motion. A fountain plays in the public park, and a band of music fills the air with melody. There are also forts with soldiers parading about them, blacksmith shops with artisans at work in them, and pjeasure gardens with people dancing in them. Other scenes go to make this a wonderful structure. Arab Ingenuity.?Mr. Klein, who rode his own mare, asked Daoud if he was quite sure she always got her allowance. "0, yes," he replied; "the muleteers often steal from one another, and rob their friends' horses, but I can always find out if your mare has been cheated."* "How?" "I always put some pebbles in with the barley, seven or eight, and count exactly how many I put in. The mare never eats the pebbles, and if any one steals barley, he is sure to take two or three pebbles with it. If I find the pebbles short in the morning, I make hard words, and they cannot tell how I know, and sn liotr ldt Q1A?O siVkAaiinrr Knr " 3V HIOJ 1VV U1UUV VilVU ktiJg livil 8?, Loafers are an expensive luxury. We bave known a wife to work hard and earn large wages at washing and sewing, and it took almost every cent to support her husband, who was a loafer. If any young ladies aspire to the position of a loafer's * wife, they must make up their minds that they lave got to work. Who has not seen a father ind mother do their best from morning to light, year in and year out, and it would ake all they cold get to support one or two oafers.