Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, March 11, 1875, Image 1
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VOL. 21. YORKYILLE, S. C? THURSDAY, MAECH 11, 1875. NO. IP.
j|n original jdcrg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
z a jst~ita,
The Circus Girl.
BY MRS. HENRY DEAS.
CHAPTER XX.
STARTLING NEWS.
Trembling and awe-struck, Estelle silently
followed Mr. Blandford, as, without another
word, he led the way to his wife's apartment.
A shaded lamp burned in one corner, casting
but a faint light throughout the room ;
but even in that dim, flickering light, Estelle
could see her mother's face, as it lay white
and still, with closed eyes, upon the scarcely
whiter pillow. A pang of terror and keen
remorse shot through her at every sight. She
came swiftly forward, and would have fallen
on her knees, with an outbreak of emotion, at
the bedside, but Mr. Blandford restrained her.
"Not a sound?not a syllable," he said, in
a low but peremptory tone. "The least agita
tion now may prove fatal."
Estelle crept away to a distant corner and
sat down, feeling very guilty and miserable,
and shivering in her thin evening dress.
Delia, the maid, compassionating her forlorn
look, brought a cloak and put it around her
shoulders; then sitting down near her, told
her, in a whisper, the particulars of her mistress'
recent attack. It had come on about a
half an hour before Estelle started for the ]
party, but in the agitation and anxiety it j
caused among her attendants, no one thought I
of sending particularly to tell the latter, ex- i
cept Susan, whose tidings had fallen upon ears I
unwilling to credit them, and were, conse- ;
quently, d isregarded. Twice since, it had j
been repeated with alarming violence, and |
during the latest paroxysm, it had been feared j
that her last moments were at hand. But she ,
had gradually falleu into a calmer state again,1
and the doctor then gave his opiniou that, j
although her coudition was extremely critical, |
there was some hope that she yet might re- j
cover.
"Was father very angry when he heard I
was gone ?" hesitatingly asked Estelle.
"He didn't say much, but he looked fit to
kill me when I told him," rejoined Delia.
"And afterward, when he heard that Susan
had told you before you went, it was worse
still."
"Butyou see, Delia, I didn't believe SusaD,"
said Estelle, who was most extremely anxious
to make all possible excuse for her conduct.
"I knew she was stupid and fond of exaggerating;
and so?I didn't know I ought to stay,
unless somebody else told me."
Even Delia was sensible, however, of the
feebleness of the excuse, and had nothing to
say in sympathy. Estelle could not but be
aware of the impropriety of her behavior; but
as the hours crept on and the extreme fear
which at first overpowered her was quieted,
her old selfish feelings began to regain the
mastery and to blot out other considerations. I
She had no doubt they were all uuueeessarily
frightened?she was sure she had seen her
mother just as ill before. It was very hard
that her father should treat her as if she were
a criminal; she could not see that* she bad
done anything very dreadful after all ; only
made a mistake, and all through other peoples'
carelessness aud Heglect. She was awfully
cold, sitting there in a tartan dress, in
the dark ; somebody might have the consideration
to tell her to go to bed, for they might
know how tired and worn out she was, after
dancing half the night. Then the remembrance
of Edmund Delaney's whispered
?/) /*nrv?A K Af min/1 con/1 inr* o tknll aP
WU11I3 LailiC tV IUIUU) OCUUlUg ?. bill 111 VI
pleasure and triumph through her, and she
began to wonder how soon she would see him
again; probably he would come that very
day. "And I shan't be fit for him to look at,
for I know exactly how white ray face will
be, with great horrid rings round my eyes,
from all this fatigue. Things always do happen
in such a way ! Now father won't be in
the humor to hear about our engagement or j
anything ; and suppose he should be disagree- j
able to Edmund when he comes?"
By and by, the gray dawn crept in through j
the blinds, gradually brightening into day,:
and extinguishing the candle's feeble glare, j
Mrs. Blandford slept tranquilly, aud the phy- J
sician carefully noting all the symptoms, de- j
clared them to be more favorable than he had !
ventured to hope would be the case. Perfect j
quiet, extreme care, were still to be observed ; |
but he hoped, by the help of Providence, to
bring her through once more.
"Thank God,-"' murmured Mr. Blandford.
Then turniug to Estelle, he said, more kindly
than he had before spoken?
"You had better go and take some rest
now. If you are wanted I will send aud let
you know."
Greatly relieved at having the long-desired j
permission tnus accorded to her, .L.stelie
obeyed his behest, and seeking her own room,
undressed aud went to bed, where she quickly
fell into profound sleep.
She had not wakened up, when young Delancy
(who was staying at the house of a
friend) rode over to "The Cedars" to pay an
early visit to his fiancee. He bore in his hand
a bunch of beautiful flowers, which he had j
himself gathered for her, and looked unusual-;
ly bright, chivalrous aud handsome, as he j
drew rein at the gate.
Mr. Blaudford had just come out on the !
lawn, to get a breath of fresh air and sun- i
shine, as the visitor appeared. He was not J
intimately acquainted with Edmund, but had i
met him once or twice, and knew him well
by sight and reputation, and he now came
forward, with his usual cordiality, though
looking anxious and worn, to meet him.
"Good-morning, Mr. Blaudford " aid Edmund,
lifting his hat wiu. iAauk, graceful
courtesy of manner that characterized him.
"I am an early visitor, you see ; but I thought
myself justified, by circumstances, in thus in
fringing upon conventional rules."
"I am always happy to see you, Mr. Delancy,"
said the old gentleman, not in the least
comprehending what he meant by being justified
by circumstances ; "and I should be particularly
happy to invite you in, at this or
any other hour, but that my house at present,
is one of illness and trouble. My wife, as I
suppose you cannot butfhave heard, has been
at the point of death, and is, even now, very
dangerously ill."
"You don't say so !" cried Edmund, greatly
shocked. "You surprise me beyond measure.
Of course her attack is a very recent one?" j
"All yesterday she was uuusally weak and!
' nervous, and I felt so anxious about her that
; in the afternoon I sent for our physician ; but
before he arrived, this extreme illness came
on. That was, I think, about six o'clock.
During the night we constantly apprehended j
her death, but toward morning she grew more j
I composed, and is now, I am thankful to say, j
! comparatively easy, and the doctor gives us a ,
ray of hope.'s
Edmund listened with a curious revulsion >
' of feeling to this piece of news. The bright!
joyous debonair look his face had worn entire- :
I ly vanished, giving place to one of such grave
! concern that Mr. Blandford, observing it, felt I
grateful to him for his evident sympathy with j
his sadness and trouble.
But it was not all sympathy (though that i
had a share in it, for he had a warm and i
I
large heart) that thus clouded the young
man's face, and gave his voice such a downcast
tone as he replied. It was a feeling of
; wonder, of consternation, of amazement, alj
most of disgust at the thought of Estelle havi
ing shone so gaily and radiantly at the enter1
tainment of the previous eveniug, under ciri
cuinstances such as these !
I "This information, sir, is, I assure you, as j
; unexpected as it is startling to me," he said,!
in a toue of marked seriousness ; and after a j
moment's pause he could not forbear adding, i
| "I saw Miss Blandford last night, and she j
made no mention of her mother's illness."
"Ah !" cried Mr. Blandford, hastily striking j
his hand on the gate as he spoke, and turning <
iaway: " Don't speak of that, sir." Then, |
as if subduing himself with an effort, he added (
more calmly, "I am willing to believe that!,
Estelle was not fully aware of her mother's !,
critical condition when she left here ; though ^
it was her own fault that she was not. How- ' ,
ever, young people will be thoughtless once I ,
in a while. All are well with you to-day, I |
hope?" j ]
He was manifestly anxious to get rid of a j
painful theme, and Edmund had discussed it J (
quite sufficiently for his own satisfaction.
"All are well, I thank you, sir. I will not!,
detain you longer now. I brought these How- '
ers as a little offering to Miss Blaudford"?he j ]
colored, and hesitated?"if it would not be ' j
unseemly to preseut them to her at such a 11
time, would you kindly say that I had left them
for her, with my?respects?"
"Certainly." said Mr. Blandford, taking j
them from his hand. "I shall give your mes- i <
sage." Then there was nothing more to be ]
said, except for Edmund to express a hope for j ]
Mrs. Blandford's speedy recovery, which he {
did, and rode away, afterward feeling very ',
crestfallen and dispirited, and inclined to
think that the fair fruit which had so lately j
fallen into his possession was already turning |
to ashes ere he had tasted its sweetness. 1 j
To tell the truth, Edmund's heart was not j
very deeply concerned in this affair. He had i
been so constantly urged on in his attentions ,
to Estelle, and had had the expediency of a : j
marriage with her so often impressed upon j
him, that he had learned, in a measure, to fall j
into his relations' views concerning her, and (
being heart-whole in other quarters, aud real-; (
ly liking and admiring her as far as his knowledge
of her went, had been willing to mistake (
this feeling of partiality for one more ardent
and decided than it really was. He had not (
had the slightest intention, in the beginning of i
the previous evening, of proposing to Estelle; ,
but time and cluiuce had been favorable?the j
young lady had, without appearing to do so, j
put forth all her wiles to enchant him ; and a
prolonged trte-a trie, in a charming conserva- (
tory, amid moonlight and perfume, had (
wrought him up to the necessary pitch (to
use a rather unpoetical term) and brought j
ahdiit the desired consummation. The die .
being cast, he accepted the result, as he did t
everything else, with a delightful conviction ,
that it was the best thing that could possibly j
happen ; and was quite prepared to play the (
role of a lover to perfection. j?
But now ? ]
I will not say that he was positively disen- j
chanted in such a short space of time, or that j
he did not strive to make excuses to himself |
for the palpable misconduct of which his ?
lady-love had been guilty ; but he was con-: g
scious of a grievous sense of disappointment
aud chagrin. Deeply sympathetic and affectionate
by nature, he was instantly repelled ,
by coldness or heartlessness in others, and ^
knew that he could hope for no real happiness
in life if condemned to the companion
ship of one whose sensibilities did not accord t
with his own. It was in no cheerful frame of ,
mind, however, that he turned his back upon t
"The Cedars." and slowlv and meditatively ,
pursued his homeward way.
Estelle was greatly vexed, later iu the day, '
to discover that she had ruissed her lover's
visit; but thought it expedient to keep her dis- j.
corofiture from observation. In truth, no one
occupied themselves very much about her,
for all thought and attention were naturally ?
centered upon Mrs. Blaudford, whose recovery
continued doubtful for that and one or two
successive days. Finally, however, a decided
change for the better took place, and the invalid,
to her husband's intense joy and thank- ^
fulness, was pronounced fairly on the road to .
recovery.
It was on the same day that this favorable
] \
verdict had been given that a letter, directed |
iu an unfamiliar hand, was brought to Mr. I.
Blandford.
As its contents were of a nature to create I
emotions of the most vivid and startling description
in the heart of the recipient, we will
share them with him.
They ran as follows:
"Nkw York, March 3rd, 18?. j *
"To John Bi.ani>foui>, Ksn.?Honored AW:? c
Being laid up here with a Painfull Illness, wieh ( .
prevents my coming to you in Person as I w'd
like to do, I must thereior write a l?"ew Lines to
inform you of a matter of great interest to you. ,
And I must begin l>v teling you that I have in
some Degree been myself in fault concerning the t
same, and humbly asking your 1'ardon for my
share in causing you unhupiuess and truble. 1 "
may as well come to the point at once, and not de- i e
lay*in informing vou that your daughter, who
was Stolon away from you some fourteen years
gone, is, to the iiest of my knowledge, still alive, \
tho I am grcaved to Add that I cannot at this !
Present inform you where she is. She has been '
lor most of the time under my euro, having been j
brought to me when very young by the Person
who stole her away, and who did not inform me 1 '
until longafterward of her Heal name, nor where I
he had took her from. I have tried to do my duty j
by her in my poor way, and have kept her from t
ail III learning and Kvil ways. Honored sir, I I
hope you will believe me when I say that I truly i
love her, and would now willingly give my Life \
to lind her, but she Disapeared misterously some !
months Past and I have serched lbr her in vain.
I believe she w'd never have left me of her own t
Free Will, but must have been taken away. And
invtruble and sorrow are so great that I am near- j '
!y distracted at times, for she is a Loviy child and t
I know not what snares she may fall into, but it
is my comfort to know that she is as Pure as an ; *
Angelland I believe she will never do wrong. ^
Dear Sir if you could make it convenient to come |
on here to see me I could give you all particlars. |
I am a poor hand at writing and just now most e
Painfull with reumatism wich keeps me in my .
lied, and also my Wife is no Scolar and cannot I
help ine, but I do my best and hope you will excuse
all mistakes. If you cannot come send or
write at once to me, if you please. I remain, honored
sir Your humble Servant,
Daniel Parkinson,
Late of Foley's Circus Troupe, No. 1(JJ ? St. New
York City."
"Good God!" cried Mr. Blandford. "I
must go at once?this very day. Carrie
alive?my little Carrie! Please heaven, if
she's any where on the face of this wide earth,
I'll find her and bring her home!"
CHAPTER XXI.
THE FIRE.
Mr. Blandford having merely informed his
wife that important business called him unexpectedly
from home (for in her present feeble
state he did not dare to impart to her the
news he had received) started immediately for
Charleston, when he set out the very next
morning by rail for New York. We will not
accompany him thither ; but remain at The
Cedars, where another startling scene in this
little drama was about to be enacted.
It was the second evening after Mr. Blandford's
departure, and Edmund was sitting
with Estelle in the well-lit library, where a
comfortable fire was burning ; the tea-things
had just been removed, and Estelle prepared
herself for a delightful tete-a-tete with her betrothed,
of whom she had hitherto seen but
little since their engagement.
But Edmund looked grave and rather preoccupied,
and seemed but little inclined to
talk, or at any rate to go beyond the mere
conventional remarks which he might have
uttered with equal propriety in the presence
of any numberoflisteners. Estelle wondered ;
then grew displeased at his reticence. Was
this his notiou of a lover's behavior? He
might, at least, come to her side; might take
her hand, and make some little speech to show
her that she was enshrined in his heart; some
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tablished between them.
At last, half laughing, half in petulance,
she exclaimed?
"What on earth makes you so dull aud silent,
Mr. Delancy ? Am I to thiuk that there
is no more inspiration in my presence than in
that of these chairs or tables, or of the fire
which you seem to be studying so intently ?"
Edmund started slightly, and colored at the
implied rebuke; then smiling, though in a
sonstrained manner, he rose from the chair
he had occupied and moved to one nearer to
her. She, however, also rose, and with the
same mixture of jest and earnest as before,
changed her own seat to a more distant one.
"I can see you better from here, if you
please, and read in your face the confession
ihat your lips are too polite to utter ; not a
lattering one to ine, I must acknowledge."
"What confession do you mean, Estelle ?"
"The confession that you are bored, or
/exed, or something; and that I have no
sower to remove the spell."
"I am neither bored nor vexed ; but I have
seen thinking very earnestly about somehing?more
earnestly than I am in the habit
)f thinking at most times."
"Don't you think you might reserve such
:arnest thoughts for your hours of solitude?"
"I have not the power, in this cuse; for
,hey concern you."
"Me ! I am honored. I suppose, then, I
nay know what they are ?"
"I fear, if I tell you, I may make you
mgry."
"Mystery upon mystery ! You make me
joncinde, at all events, that they are not of a
jomplimentary nature."
"Dear Estelle," said Edmund, very seriousy,
"I don't think, as matters stand, that there
sught to be any reserve between us now, and
.hat is why I don't make a secret of the annoyances
I have felt; but I have no doubt
shat you can easily set my miud at rest, and
jxplain away what has puzzled me, so 1 am
;oing to be very frank with you, eveu at the
isk of exciting your displeasure."
Estelle's color mounted, aud she bit her lips.
Her pride and self-will were already roused
ny his tone, and she mentally resolved not to
submit to any catechizing or lecturing, if it
should be his intention to bestow it upon her.
"Have I your leave to speak ?" he continued.
"Certainly," she rejoined sarcastically ; "I
vould not venture to lay any restriction upon
four frankness."
"You make it a little difficult for me to ex
Ut'lSC It. 11UWCVCI, 11IC IU V|UV/OblUU 117
iriefly this. Will you tell me candidly
vhether you were aware of your mother's illless
before you went to the Lesters' party the
ither night ?"
Estelle's color deepened to carnation.
"Pray," she rejoined very haughtily, "tell
ue first what right you have to put that quesion
to me, or how it can in any way coucern
rnu to know ?"
"My position gives me the right to ask the
[uestion?"
"That I deny," she interrupted.
"And the deep interest I naturally feel in
he girl who is my promised wife, leads me to
[uestion auy action of hers, which is so open
o misconstruction, and for which I am anxous
to find an excuse?more anxious, Estelle,
han I can possibly express. I am sure you
vill not refuse me the explanation I want?"
He spoke entreatingly, and again approach- j
ng her, laid his hand on hers. Estelle shook :
ft' the hand, and an angry retort rose to her j
ips; but a second thought made her hesitate. I
Should she destroy the whole fabric of glory
ind happiness she had so lately erected for
lerselt, by entering on a quarrel witn Jbumuna, i
vhich might not be capable of being healed,'
>r rather seek, by a plausible explanation, to :
emove his prejudice, as she termed it, and reistablish
herself in his good opinion?
She considered for a moment, and then,
uruing toward him a sad and pleading face, >
ind eyes full of tears, she replied, in alow:
md touching voice?
"I see plainly, Edmund, that some one has
>een misrepresenting to you an unhappy mis-1
ake of mine, which has never ceased to haunt '
md grieve me since I committed it. I do not
hitik that you would, of your own accord, i
lelieve any evil of me, wilful and headstrong j
hough I sometimes am."
Edmund was on the point of protesting, !
vith newly awakened ardor, his perfect conviction
that she would never willingly do nnyliing
wrong or unkind, when their couversa- j
ion received an unexpected interruption, in '
lie hasty entrance of the old butler, Jack, |
vho, with a countenance of terror and disnay,
exclaimed?
"Miss Estelle! Mr. 'Lancy, sir! the west
md of the house is on fire !"
"What house? This houso?" cried both I
together, starting simultaneously from their
seats.
"Yes, sir?yes, ma'atn! it's burning and
burning away, and nobody never seen it until
just a minnit ago! I was settin by the fire in
the kitchen, and all of a sudden I went out
in the yard to draw some water from the well,
and I see smoke curlin' up against the sky,
and a big glare, and I rushes into Molly, and
I says?
But Edmund, waiting not to hear the end
of this lengthy discourse, rushed out to discover
the true state of affairs, and the frightened
Estelle followed him.
Jack's information had been correct. The
western wing of the house, which was a modern
addition, was entirely enveloped in thick
I smoke, and bright tongues of flame were seen J
leaping up from the roof. How the fire had
originated, and how it could have progressed
so far before it was discovered, were matters
of wonderment; but there was no time to indulge
in speculation now. The frightened
negroes were collected, and every effort was
made to suppress the advance of the destroying
element. Edmund placed himself at the
head of affairs, and gave clear and rapid orders,
himself working with an energy that
gave an example to the rest. In this wing
was Estelle's chamber, a great portion of
which was injured beyond repair before they
could do anything to check the fire.
Why did Estelle turn so deathly pale, as
standing with chattering teeth and clasped
hands, she murmured to herself in tones of
thrilling apprehension and fear?
"My desk?ray desk ! Oh ! heavens, if I
only had it here!"
Her desk?yes, that was the repository of a
fatal secret?a secret hitherto so rigidly guarded
as to preclude all possibility of discovery.
In a private drawer, known only to Herself,
lay that momentous document?Mr. Richard
Blandford's last will!
Impelled by a resistless terror, she rushed
frantically toward the burning rooms; but
Edmund meeting her drew her firmly back.
"Estelle, are you crazy? You cannot go in
there! You will suffocate, or be crushed to
death. Go away; don't you suppose I will do
all I can to make things safe ?"
At this moment Delia appeared, wringing
her hands.
"Miss Estelle, for the Lord's sake come to
missus ! She says everybody's deserted her,
and she's taking on awful. I think she'll
kill herself if something ain't done to quiet
her."
"Go to her, Estelle, for mercy's sake," said
Edmund, "and erftreat her not to be alarmed ;
tell her the rest of the house is in no danger
whatever. Remember your responsibility?
she is totally helpless, and Mr. Blandford is
away."
Thus adjured, Estelle had no alternative
but to obey. Shivering with suppressed agitation,
and with a wild, scared look in her
eyes, she silently followed Delia to her mother's
room, where for the next hour she fouud
enforced occupation in ministering to the invalid,
whose excitement caused by sudden
fright, was so extreme as to render it a matter
of difficulty to restore her to anything like
composure.
In the meantime several of the neighbors
had come over, the negroes having speedily
spread the alarm ; and by their united efforts
the fire was ere long subdued, though not before
the western wing was in ruins.
[CONCLUSION NEXl' WEEK.]
IpjSfcUaitcflus fUading.
THE CIVIL RIGHTS BILL.
The following is a copy of the civil rights
bill as it passed both houses of Congress :
uri : .:_i
> > liei'UilB II 13 C33UUL1U1 IV J ugi guvci mucin,
we recognize the equality of all men before
the law, and hold that it is the outy of the 1
government, in its dealings with the people, to
mete out equal and exact justice to all, of i
whatever nationality, race, color, or persua- i
sion, religious or political; and it being the
appropriate object of legislation to enact great
principles into law, therefore,
Be it enacted, That all persons within the <
jurisdiction of the United States shall be entitled
to the full and equal eujoyment of the '
accommodations, advantages, facilities and
privileges of inns, public conveyances on land
or water, theatres and other places of public
amusement, subject only to the conditions and i
limitations established by law, and applicable i
alike to citizens of every race and color, regardless
of any previous condition of servi- i
tude.
Sec. 2. That any person who shall violate i
the foregoing section by denying to any citizen,
except for reasons by law applicable to '
citizens of every race and color, and regard- i
less of any previous condition of servitude, i
the full enjoyment of any of the aecommoda- '
tions, advautages, facilities or privileges in <
said section enumerated, or by aiding or inci- I
ting such denial, shall, for auy such offense, 1
forfeit and pay the sum of five hundred dollars
to the person aggrieved thereby, to be recovered
in an action of debt, with full costs;
and shall also for every such offense be deemed
guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction
thereof shall be fined not less than five hundred
nor more than one thousand dollars, or
shall be imprisoned not less than thirty days
nor more than one year; provided, that all persons
may elect to sue for the penalty aforesaid,
or to proceed under their rights at common law
and by State statutes ; and having so elected
to proceed in the one mode or the other, their
right to proceed in the other jurisdiction shall j
be barred. But this proviso shall not apply j
to criminal proceedings either under this act:
or the criminal law of any State. And pro-1
vided, further, that a judgment for the penal-1
ty in favor of the party aggrieved, or a judg- '
ment upon an indictment, shall be a bar to .
either prosecution, respectively. j <
Sec. 3. Thar the District and Circuit Courts i
of the United States shall have, exclusively <
of the courts of the several States, cognizance j 1
of all crimes and offenses against and viola- I
lions of the provisions of this act; and actious I
for the penalties given by the preceding sec-1 1
tion may be prosecuted in the Territorial, ( 1
District or Circuit Courts of the United States 5
wherever the defendant may be found, with- I
out regard to the other party. And the dis- i
trict attorneys, marshals and deputy marshals 1
of the United States, and commissioners ap-1 <
pointed by the Circuit and Territorial Courts j
of the United States, with powers of arresting t
and imprisoning or bailing offenders against ?
the laws of the United States, are hereby spe- ?
cially authorized and required to institute J
proceedings against every person who shall
violate provisions of this act, and cause hira '
to be arrested and imprisoned or bailed, as s
the case may be, for trial before such courts ?
of the United States or Territorial courts as
by law has cognizance of the offense, except I
in respect of the right of action accruing to i
the person aggrieved ; and such district attor- i
neys shall cause such proceedings to be prose- I
cuted to their termination as in other cases : i
Provided, that nothing contained in this sec- ?
tion shall be construed to deny or defeat any i i
right of civil action accruing to any person,
whether by reason of this act or otherwise.
And any district attorney who shall wilfully
fail to institute and prosecute the proceedings
here required shall for every such offense forfeit
and pay the sum of five hundred dollars
to the person aggrieved thereby, to be recovered
by action of debt, with full costs, and
shall, on conviction thereof, be deemed guilty
of a misdemeanor, and be fined not less than
81,000 nor more than 85,000. And provided
further, that a judgment for the penalty in
favor of the party aggrieved against any such
district attorney, or a judgment upon an indictment
against any such district attorney,
shall be a bar to either prosecution, respectively.
Sec. 4. That no citizen possessing all other
qualifications which are or may be prescribed
by law shall be disqualified for service as
grand or petit juror in any court of the United
States, or of any State, on account of race,
color or previous condition of servitude ; and
any officer or other person charged with any
duty in the selection or summoning of jurors,
who shall exclude or fail to summon any citizen
for the cause aforesaid shall, on conviction
thereof, be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor,
and be fined not more than five thousand
dollars.
Sec. 5. That all cases arising under the
provisions of this act in the Courts of the United
States shall be reviewable by the Supreme
Court of the United States, without regard to
the sum in controversy, under the same provisions
and regulations as are now provided
by law for the review of other causes to said
court.
REASONING POWER OF ANIMALS.
A discussion on this subject having been
started iu the London Times, Colonel Stuart
Wortley sends the following interesting facts.
He says:
When serving at the Cape of Good Hope,
I went far into the interior of the country on
a shooting expedition, and one morning, having
shot a blesblok on one of the open plains,
I left it on the spot where it was killed while
I rode off in search of water. My Caffre boys
remonstrated, declaring the vultures would
eat it; but as the sky was clear and no vultures
in sight, I disbelieved, and we rode off.
On returning in about an hour and a half the
dead animal was devoured to the bones, and a
dozen gorged vultures were finishing their
meal. It is, I think, certain that vision only
oould have led these birds to their prey, and a
vision of remarkable keenness, for when we
left the dead animal no vulture was in sight,
even in the farthest distance. I was so struck
o vvml l/Aiia Irnonnnca nf Girrht. fhflt T !
tried the experiment often afterward, and always
with the same result. In these cases no
taint of decomposition had set in, and the only
other possible alternative would be that the
birds could have heard the report of ray gun,
and been attracted by it. But that hypothesis
is negatived by the fact that I frequently
run down deer with dogs, and the vultures
have in that case as quickly and certainly appeared
as in cases where the animals were shot.
Now for a few words on dogs and other animals.
I am one of those who believe that we
usually under-estiraate the reasoning power of
animals. I believe they think, and reason
out a course of action from their thoughts.
The following anecdotes bear on this point.
I have a very favorite Skye terrier, bred and
sold to me by the famous Bill George many
years ago. His eyes are now dim with age,
he is stone deaf, but he is sitting now by my
side with his wise old face turned up toward
me, and a look of reasoning love upon it.
This dog is a thinker and reasoner; witness
his acts. Some years ago I spent a winter in
Naples, and went often to a library to read the
newspapers. My dog went with me, but as
he would auarrel with the library doer, he was
shut out. But one morning the door-bell
rang, and on the door being opened, in rushed
"Cloudy." There was no one at the door, and
as the same thing occurred again on my next
visit, it was clear the dog rang the bell. The
door was watched the next time, and it was so;
the bell-pull was a cord, hanging down, and
the dog jumped at it, till either with paws or
teeth, he jerked it sufficiently to ring the bell.
But once he heard the bell tinkle inside, he
left off jumping, and posted himself in position
to rush in the moment the door was
opened. Again, at a croquet party, a ball
was knocked into the water; "Cloudy went
in after it, hut it was much too big for his
mouth, and after many vain attempts to get
hold of it, he swam back. Half-way to the
bank, however, he reasoned, and swimming
back to the ball, he paddled it along in front
of him by nose aud feet to the bank, up
which, and on to the lawn he brought it in the
same way.
I could tell many more stories of this dog's
wisdom, but will mention one more trait in
his character. He had to make the journey
from Paris to Marseilles in a dog-box, and he
never now is taken to a railway station but
he instantly flies into a carriage and ensconces
in a corner, whence no railway porter in England
could "draw" him. This is from his
recollectiou and horror of his dog-box prison.
Another dog of mine reasoned. After the
battle of Inkerraan a fine Russian dog remained
with his master's body, and I took him
iway. He tolerated me, but at intervals of
ten days or so would go down a valley in front
nf our camp, into Sebastapol, and not return
for a day or two. Clearly he went to search
for his lost and loved master, and failing to
find hiui, returned to his friend. The dog
never recovered the loss of his master, and
jven when living in England would go restlessly
in search of him. Many of my friends
md relations will remember old "Menschikoff."
Even my pug, by no means a clever
dog, has sufficient reasoning power to have
learned to open the lid of a croquet box, and
5sh out a ball when he wants to have a game
if play.
Few people would credit a cat with reasonin
nnmni. l\nf ha nnfl wViinli OQ -fiillnU'S
certainly did. After the French troops had
taken the Malakoff I was sent into it on duty,
ind found an unhappy cat bayonetted through
the foot and pinned to the ground. I took
Iter to ray tent, she was carefully tended, and
jvery morning taken to the doctor to have her
wound attended to. Four or five days after,
[ was too ill one morning to get up, puss
:arae and scratched at ray tent door. I took
ao notice, but not long afterward the doctor
jame to say that mine was a wise cat, for she
liad come to his tent and sat quietly down for
aer foot to be examined and have its usual
bandaging. She was watched to see what she
would do the next morning, but she declined
wasting her time scratching for me, and went
itraight to the doctor's tent and scratched
;here. Sure she reasoned. She was a very
iffectiouate animal, and it was absurd to see
aer following me all over the camp with her
;ail carried stiff in the air.
I must not occupy more space, or I could
;e!l many other stories ; but I think I have
laid enough to show that animals have realoning
power, and are not merely, as Dr.
Bree seems to think, guided by scent alone.
Pity.?We are taught, by a law of civilisntion
which we call humanity, to feel for the
mrrows and distresses of our neighbors.
Without the sentiment of pity, society would
je little better than a menagerie of wild aninals,
wherein each fought for his own hand,
md no one gave a thought to the sufferings or
he rights of others; but pity makes these
>vild animals into men, and substitutes for the
lelfishuess of individualism the community of
ace and the duty of mutual help.
Anecdote of the Rail.?Some year
! ago there were engaged upon the Boston an<
j Providence Railroad two men, as engineers
! who are now eminent as master mechanics o
j railroads. They were both skillful men. Ai
; they ran regular trains, they each had a loco
j motive which they ran daily, and they be
I came as much attached to their machines a
j any gentleman will be to a fine horse. Thej
i could perform any task with them, and ob
tain such speed out of them as no other engineer
could. One of them, whom we will call
Green, used to say that he could stop his en
gine within an inch of a mark to be put up
on the track. In fact, he used to do it at the
Roxbury shop frequently (when the "old
man," meaning the master mechanic, was not
aboard'* to his adrairiner associates. The oth
er man?Brown?was equally proud of his
machine. You would think he had a circus
trick-horse to hear him talk. These men, of
course, had a little rivalry between them,
which was always encouraged by the other
[ boys on the road. Green stated one day that
he would hangup his gold watch on the back
of Brown's tender, and would run fifteen hundred
feet at full speed, and stop with his
draw-bar within one inch of the watch,
He was dared to do it. He accepted the
challenge and accomplished what he said he
could. Brown was astonished at the daring
of his associate, and concluded that if he did
not take the wind out of his sails his (Brown's)
fame would be under a cloud. So he said
that it was luck on Green's part; that he
could not do it again; would he bet 85. The
bet was accepted, and Green sailed back to
the starting point, and in due time came back
at full speed and went at Brown's tender with
an awful whack. The watch was somewhat
enlarged superficially; it was quite thin, and
the crystal was in more than one piece. As
a time-keeper its avocation had ceased entirely.
The reason of the smash-up was, Brown
had quietly moved his machine several inches
bv leaking steam into cylinders. This he had
managed "to do unperceived by the bystanders,
who were.very intently watching Green's
movements. The latter was wonder-struck at
the failure of his feat, but he never for a moment
supposed that Brown had played him
false. He never tried the thing again. In
after years Brown presented him with a valuable
watch, with due explanations, which was
to the receiver an astonished revelation.
?
Size of Places.?Greece is about the size
of Vermont.
Palestine is one-fourth the size of New York.
The Caspian Sea would stretch from New
York to Rochester.
Hindostan is more than a hundred times
as large as Palestine.
The great desert of Africa has nearly the
present dimension of the United States.
The English Channel is nearly as large as
Lake Superior.
The Red Sea would reach from Washington
to Colorado, and it is three times as large
as Ontario.
The Mediterranean, if placed across North
America, would make sea navigation from
San Diego to Baltimore.
Great Britain is two-thirds the size of Japan,
one-twentieth the size of China, and onetwenty-fifth
the size of the United States.
Great Britain aud Ireland are about as
large as New Mexico, but not as large as
Iowa and Nebraska. They are less than
New York and Ohio.
Madagascar is as large as New Hampshire,
Massachusetts, Vermont, Connecticut, New
York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Virgiuia
and North Carolina, all put together.
The Gulf of Mexico is about ten times the
size or .Lake superior, ana aDout ine size 01
the Sea of Kamschatka, Bay of Bengal, China
Sea, Okoska, or Japan Sea. Lake Ontario
would go in either of them fifty times.
The following bodies of waters are nearly
equal in size: The German Ocean, Black
Sea, Yellow Sea. Hudson Bay is rather
larger; the Baltic, Adriatic, Persian Gulf,
and Euxine Sea are somewhat larger than
Lake Superior.
A Grecian Legend.?When Bacchus
was a boy, he journeyed through Hellas to go
to Naxia; and as the way was very long, he
grew tired, and sat down upon a stone to rest.
As he sat there, with his eyes upon the
ground, he saw a little plant spring up between
his feet, and was so much pleased with
it that he determined to take it with him and
plant it in Naxia.
He took it up and carried it away with him ;
i * - ? i?i c :*
out, as me suu was very uui, ue ictucu it
might wither before he reached his destination.
He found a bird's skeleton, into which
he thrust it, and went on.
But in his hand the plant sprouted so fast
that it started out of the bones above and below.
This gave him fresh fear of its withering,
and he cast about for a remedy. He
found a lion's bone, which was thicker than
the bird's skeleton, and he stuck the skeleton
with the plant in it into the bone of the lion.
Ere long, however, the plant grew out of the
lion's bone likewise.
Then he found the bone of an ass, larger
still than that of the lion ; so be put it into the
ass's bone, and thus he made his way to Naxia.
When about to set the plant, he found that the
roots had entwined themselves around the
bird's skeleton and the lion's bone and the
ass's bone; and, as he could not take it out
without damaging the roots, he planted it as
it was, and it came up speedily, and bore, to
his great joy, the most delicious grapes, from
which he made the first wine, and gave it to
men to drink.
Bat behold a miracle! when men first drank
of it, they sang like birds; next, after drinking
a little more, they became vigorous and
gallant like lions; but when they drank more
still, they began to behave like asses.
Trust Her.?Confidence is everything between
husband and wife; and a woman who
loves, desires above all things to be trusted.
She would not be glad when he was sad.
She would not be ignorant of troubles and
anxieties. Anything is better to her than to
be shut out from the innermost of the life of
one who would be all hers as she is all his.
Women generally are averse to keeping things
to themselves, and a husband is often overdosed
with confidence; but many really affectionate
men lead, as far as their wives are
concerned, a double life.
Of that which is not domestic they think it
right to say nothing. Some grievous troubles
may be upon them?dread of failure, certainty
of loss, rumors of some mistake which has
plunged them into anxiety ; and they make
no sign of it save by a change of manner,
which to the women who are ignorant that
thaw liovo anv nnrps is incnmnrehensible.
-"J . ? r
The wife would gladly be sympathetic, but
when a frowning brow, silence, and the lack
of usual caresses, are all the tokens that she
has of her liege lord's trouble, all her boasted
intuition cannot keep her from flying to the
conclusion that it is a personal matter?that
she is no longer loved, or that he loves some
one else. And I believe that much domestic
misery has been caused in the first place by
the man's secretiveness when he had no secrets
which might not have been shared by
bis wife.
You may say, why should he talk to one
who cannot understand or give counsel to a
being with such vague ideas of stocks, and
banking, and speculation, that she can only
wonder why things have gone wrong ? Well,
there are many reasons: the woman who
holds him dear will give him more sympathy
than any living being, for one thing; and he
needs sympathy, whether he knows it or not.
8 And then she has her rights, for she is a
i partner in a firm of two, and the books should
i,1 not be closed to her.
f j She is mate of the vessel in which he is
i ; captain, and surely should know what shoals
- ; are near.?Mary Dallas.
3 The Hotel of the Future.?The folr
lowing is the translation of an article in a
j Berlin paper, which will cohvey an idea of
i the German estimate of the coming American
i hotel:
I The latest American progress in building
will be the "Mammoth Hotel," soon to be
erected in Chicago. The enormous hotel is
to have a frontage of three English miles in
length, and a depth of six miles; the height
is seventy-seven stories, will measure 3480 feet
, from the ground floor to the roof. The hotel
' CAA 1 11 : 11
! will Pave no stairs, dui uuu uauuuus win m
ways be ready to take visitors up to their
rooms. No room waiters are to be employed,
! but visitors will be served by a newly-patented
automaton, put up in every bed-room, who
will do all shaving, shampooing, etc., to the
guests, by a very simple and ingenious mechan,
ism. Supposing the guest required hot water,
automaton will be able to call down stairs, "A
| bucket of hot water to room No. 1,082,107,"
and the water will be up in seven seconds by
a patented elevator. Half an hour before
table d' hote, instead of the ringing of bells, a
gun (twenty-four pounder) will be fired on
each floor, to call the guests to get ready for
their meals. The tables in the dining-rooms
will measure four miles each, attendance to be
by twelve waiters, on horse-back, on either
side of the table. Music during table d' hote
will be played?gratis?by eight bands of
seventy-seven men eaeh. For the convenience
of visitors, a railway will'be built on each
floor, as well as telegraph offices. The price
of bed-rooms will be from one to ten dollars.
The cost of this building is estimated to be
880,000,000. The billiard-room will contain
nine hundred American, ninety-nine French
and one English table; as most of the visitors
are expected to be Americans, the billiardroom
will be fitted with a spittoon of one hun
dred feet in circumference.
Little Conjurers.?"I am fond of children,"
said the late Dr. Binney. "I think
them the poetry of the world, the fresh flowers
of our hearths and homes?little conjurers,
with their "natural magic," evoking by their
spells what delights and enriches all ranks
and equalizes the different classes of society.
Only think, if there was never anything
anywhere to be seen but great grown-up men
and women! How we should long for the
sight of a little child ! Every infant comes
into the world like a delegated prophet, the
harbinger and herald of good tidings, whose
office it is 'to turn the fathers to the children,'
and to draw 'the disobedient to the wisdom of
the just.' A child softens and purifles the
heart, warming and melting it by its gentle
presence; it enriches the soil by new feelings,
and awakens within what is favorable to virtue.
It is a beam of life, a fountain of love,
a teacher whose lessons few could resist. Infants
recall us from much that engenders and
encourages selfishness, freezes the affections,
roughens the manners, indurates the heart;
they brighten the home, deepen love, invigorate
exertions, infuse courage, and vivify and
sustain the charities of life."
Little Causes, Large Effects.?Splash
went a little stone into a pool, and a bubble
and a circle showed where it fell. Then came
a circle beyond, fainter but larger. Another
came, round that, then another, and another,
each fainter and larger, till the last reached
the margin of the pool, and moved the rushes.
"Something very important must have happened,"
said the rushes, "by the size of the
circle."
"No, gentlemen," said a willow that tower
ed above them. "1 can see over the pool,
and I assure you the first circle from which
this, through a succession of others, took its
rise, was very small, and had a most insignificant
origin ; but I have often noticed of little
things and their report, that the longer they
live the larger they grow, till the effect at
last bears no proportion to its cause."
The Invisible Children.?It is not when
your children are with you ; it is not when you
see and hear them that they are most to you ;
it is when the sad assemblage is gone; it is
when the daisies have rusumed their growing
again in the place where the little form was
laid; it is when you have carried your children
out and said farewell, and come home
again, and day and night are full of sweet
memories; it is when summer and winter are
full of touches and suggestions of them ; it is
when you cannot look up toward heaven without
thinking of them; it is when they are
gone out of your arms, and are living to you
only by the power of imagination, that they
ar& the most to you. The invisible children
are the realest children?the children that
touch our hearts as no hands of flesh could
ever touch them.
a?"* The New York Economist says there
will be a large reduction this year in the
rent of stores, and still greater in that of
dwelling houses. Real estate has fallen greatly
in the commercial metropolis, and rents
must fall in proportion. In New Jersey and
Long Island a great number of houses have
been recently built, which are quite as accessible
as city residences, and will come in comnetJti'rm
with thpse and still farther deoress
i"""" ? - !
city rents. "To Let" is already seen in unusually
large quantity in the principal thorough-fares.
Business of all sorts is dull, and
everything dependent on it must sympathize
with it.
?
Care of the prano or Organ.?Instruments
of this kind should be closed when not
in use, in order to prevent the collection of
dust, pins, etc., on the sound-board, and also
to preserve the strings and "action" trora tne
ill-effects of sudden changes of temperature.
Nothing injures a piano so much as extreme
heat, whether arising from a bright fire in
front of it, or what is worse, the heated air
from the furnace. Care should be taken to
prevent moisture of any kind getting between
j the keys, as it causes them to stick. Moths
i are very destructive to pianos, and should be
j kept out by a lump of camphor wrapped in
! paper in the inside corner.
The Mysterious Box.?A station keeper
; near London received one day a box of a
j very mysterious appearance, addressed to him
1 in his official character. Opening it he found
j a healthy infant. It was not his fancy to
j rear other people's children, and he thrust it
j aside ; the porter, taking pity on the infant,
j and with the consent of the agent, determined
to adopt it. When the child was lifted
| from its crib ?800 sterling were found in the
I box. The station master immediately be|
came interested in the little one, but the
1 humane porter declared he was too late. The
I moral is obvious.
?
' A GuineaSermon.?We have from the old
| country the story of a dissenting minister who
{ was paiu 10 preacn a sermon on some special
| occasion in the chapel of a neighboring town,
j As the congregation was not very rich, he
| was informed beforehand that they could not
I pay him more than a guinea for his disccurse.
! When the service was over he received in the
j vestry the congratulations of the elders, who
! were loud in their estimation of his eloquence.
He turned around upon them with almost a
' smile of contempt, and said, "Do you call
' that an eloquent sermon ? I should just like
I you to hear one of my three guinea ones !"