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lewis m. grist, proprietor.! ^it litbtptitbraf Jfitmilj ftefospapjr: Jfor t(it ^amotion of % political, jSocial, ^gricalteral attb Comnttrtial |ntmsfs of % $ont|. TERMS?$3.00 a YEAR, inADTANCE. VOT, 22. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 38, 1876. 2STO. 39. JU Anginal Stoig. Lost and"pound? OR, THE WHITE FAWN OF THE FOREST. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Carleton soon succeeded in convincing his astonished auditors of the correctness of his statement How Manitara?or Leila, as we must now call her?was affected by it, it was not easy to judge. She was certainly not elated by the discovery of her real parentage; but she appeared as yet too bewildered fully ' ? i ? it.. co realize cue cnange iu uer pwinuu. uci vivacity had disappeared. She had suddenly grown silent and thoughtful, and it was impossible to rouse her into anything like her former animation. Arthur felt perplexed and disappointed. He had expected that she would receive the news with joy ; but Mr. Carleton reminded him that so unlooked for a revelation must necessarily come upon her like a shock, and that she would require time to enable her to regain her composure, and recover from the confusion into which all her ideas had been thrown. As to the valiant wooer, who had thus been defrauded of the prize he had fancied secure, his sentiments were expressed in language that was concise and to the point. "Like must mate with like," he composedly remarked. "The Indian would not take a maiden of the white race for his bride. Let her go to the land of the stranger, since it must be so. Panther Joe will return to his cabin, and smoke his pipe in peace." Arthur, of course, wrote without delay to inform bis uncle of the unexpected turn which affairs had taken; and preparations were immediately commenced for the voyage on which the newly-found cousin and himself were shortly to embark. First of all, her Indian costume was discarded, and a suitable wardrobe prepared for her, under the auspices of Mrs. Carleton acid Amy, who worked with diligence to get her outfit completed within as short a space of time as possible. Leila, being ignorant of the art of sewing, could not assist them, but looked on curiously, and a little wistfully, at the progress of these evidences of her transformation. She made no objection to her change of drees, since she understood that it was necessary and right, but she could not at once feel at ease in her new attire. Amy taught her to fasten op her hair with ribbons, instead of letting it hang down. The gay ribbons pleased her, but she could not forbear a regretful glance at her tiara of plumes as she laid it aside. "Without that, no one will thinK tnat 1 am anybody," she remarked. "Every one will soon know who yon are," said Amy. "You will not need that as a distinction." "Indeed," wid.Leila. seriously, "I hardly know who I am, myself. I feel as though it were all unreal?as if I were walking in my sleep." Mrs. Carleton tried to prepare the young girl for the new sphere in life she was about to enter, by giving her daily practical lessons in her mode of behavior, and teaching her the manners and customs of polite society. Leila was very docile, and showed herself an apt pupil; but she did not throw her heart into her efforts. She did what she was told mechanically, and without eagerness. Mrs, Carleton feared that the change would go bard with her, and that it would be long before she got thoroughly reconciled to her position. Mr. Chase wrote quite an ardent letter to Arthur, expressive of his gratitude and delight at the welcome ioformation he had sent him, and enclosed a kind and affectionate little note to bis grand-daughter, saying how glad he should be to welcome her to her rightful home. Arthur read this aloud to She listened with downcast eyes, and made no comment until he asked her if it was not a very kind letter, and if she were not pleased to get it Then she answered, Yes, that it was very kind, and she thought her grandfather must be a good man ; but without any display of enthusiasm. A strange reticence had come over her. Whether it was from pride or diffidence, they could not tell. Within a few days after the reception of this letter, Arthur and Leila bid adieu to the family of the missionary, and set out for the coast, where they were to embark on their homeward voyage. The young girl wept bitterly at parting with these kind friends, to whom she had become much attached; and Arthur, too, left them with a saddened heart, having conceived, during his long stay in their household, a warm affection for them all, which they on their part fully reciprocated. ? * * * Let us pass over the ensuing twelvemonth, and look in upon Mr. Chase's family circle, iu his handsome New; York mansion, on an evening in the month of November, 18?. The crimson curtains are drawn, and the light of a cheerful fire falls upon the tea-ser? ?* ?* : ?i:-! Vice 01 delicate porueimu, eei uui> iu icauiucss for the evening meal, upon the rosewood furniture, and the faces of the fernily portraits that look down from richly-gilded frames upon the walls. It shines, too, upon the faces of an old gentleman and a beautiful girl, who are sitting near the hearth, the former in a deeply-cushioned chair of crimson velvet, the latter upon an ottoman at his feet. The gentleman is easily recognizable, for he is but little changed since we saw him last The gray curling hair and keen but handsome features are the same, and only a slight additional stoop in the broad shoulders, shows that the weight.of another year is pressing somewhat heavily upon the stalwart form. In point of health and flesh, Mr. Chase is decidedly improved, and coutentment and cheerfulness beam in his smile as he lays his hand tenderly on the dark head so close to his knee. And she?the sienaer giri witn raven nair and lustrous, glorious eyes?so simply yet daintily dressed, and with such an air of quiet propriety in her reposeful attitude. Can she be the little wild Indian, the roving child of the forest, whose unerring rifle saved Arthur Leslie's life at the wooded base of the Sierra Nevada range ? So indeed she is?but to look at her now, you never would dream that she had once flitted like an antelope over the western plains, or that ber gun and ber bow had often laid the f&vage denizens of the woods low at her feet, and brought down the wild birds in their flight. Our White Pawn has undergone a complete transformation, and it is not likely, were she unexpectedly to meet with her companions of former days, that one of them would recognize her identity. There is something pathetic, too, in the change. As she looks up to meet her grandfather's glance, and utters a gentle response to some remark he had addressed to her, you miss the old sparkle in her eyes and smile, and her manner seems subdued, almost sad. Her voice is silvery sweet as the murmur of the meadow brook, but its joyous ring is gone. Her beauty is rarer, more refined, but something of its wild enchantment has departed. Her look is softer, more tender, but also more plaintive than of yore. Yet, if you questioned her, she would tell you that she is happy; that her grandfather idolizes her, that every one is kind to her, and that she wants for nothing. She herself, indeed, is scarcely conscious that she does want for anything, or that there is a strange, unsatisfied void in her heart; but the void is thfere, and aches sometimes with a nameless yearning for which she can find no words. "Leila, ray child," the old gentleman says, as he caresses the soft dark hair, wound now in a shining coil about her small head, as suits the fashion of the day?for Leila has a French maid, who, like her French dressmaker, would be horrified at the transgression of any of the established rules of style and mode?"Leila, my child, now that we are alone, I want to say a few words to you on an important, very important, subject. It is a subject that lies very near my heart, and I wish you, darling, to listen to me patiently, and think carefully before you give me an answer." "Yes, grandpapa." Perhaps she has some notion of what this important, very important, Bubject may be, for it is with a slightly conscious air that she turns her eyes away again from his face, and bends them on the fire. "You know, Leila, how dearly I love you, and how earnestly I desire your happiness. It would gratify me inexpressibly to see you settled advantageously in life, before I die. I am growing an old man now, and can not have many more years to live. Next to you, I love your cousin Arthur." It is not hard to draw an inference from this speech, accompanied as it is by a meaning look, which, however, she purposely avoids meeting. Her cheek takes a warmer tinge, but she does not move or speak. "Dear child," Mr. Chase goes on, "Arthur has told me of his unsuccessful effort to win a promise from you, which, if you would but grant it to him, would make me almost as happy as it would him, and the fulGllment of which would brighten the last years of my life as nothing else could do. Tell me, Leila, why did you refuse his prayer ?" "Grandpapa, I could not grant it," is her low reply. "But why ? Do you not love him ?" "As my brother, I do?I love him dearly." "Only as your brother, Leila ? Is there no room for a warmer love in your heart ?" She shakes her head?a slight, but very deotded movement, grving'ter answer ag plaCttrfy as words could have done. "Perhaps, though, that love may grow in time?may it not?" "No, grandpapa. It never can. It is quite, quite useless to think about it. I do not want to be perverse. I would like to do anything to make you happy ; but indeed, indeed, I cannot do that. Please don't ask it 1" Her dark eyes, as she lifts them pleadingly to his face, are full of tears. "Have you no pity for Arthur, Leila ?" She is silent, her face bent down again, her little hands clasping each other nervously. "Don't you see that his heart is bound up in you?that you have the making or marring of his life-long welfare in your hands?" "If that is so," she faintly replies, "I am sorry for it?more sorry than I can tell?but I cannot force myself to love him?in that way." There is a short silence; the old gentleman, still lightly caressing her drooping head, watchesher with a troubled look ; her answer has filed him with disappointment, but he loves her too tenderly to wish to coerce her to his will. "Well, my child," he presently says," of course, if you find it quite impossible to consent to Arthur's dearest wish?and mine?I will not urge it upon you ; but I must confess that it goes sorely against me to relinquish so bright a hope. You and Arthur are my sole objects of interest in life?and since Charlotte disappointed rae so deeply by her foolish marriage, I have always looked forward to consoling myself by seeing you two united. That would, indeed, be a marriage after my own heart, and it would recompense me for all the heart-ache and disappointments I have endured. Even now, I cannot prevail upon myself quite to abandon the hope that you may one day change your mind." Before Leila can make any farther reply, the door opens, and Arthur comes in, handsome and raidiant, and looking not in the least like a despairing lover, followed by a tall, dignifikd looking lady in a black satin dress. This last is Leila's governess and general superintendant, guide and monitress, under whose direction she has been, by degrees, successfully initiated into the proprieties of life. The cosy little tea-table is wheeled nearer to the fire, within easy reach of Mr. Chase's elbow-chair ; and in the discussion of the delicacies temptingly arrayed upon it, and in conversation of a general and unimportant nature, all farther pursuit of the confidential and delicate topic which just now engaged the old gentleman and his grandchild is necessarily postponed. ***** Christmas has come and gone; the snows j and frosts of winter have whitened the earth i ,i and disappeared; spring with its daisies and primroses, its sunshine and showers, has blossomed and vanished ; summer's glowing feet have followed in its train, and now again the autumn sun shines upon fields of waving grain, and autumn tints gleam red and russet and gold upon the fast-decaying leaves. A tint as beautiful and as treacherous, crimsons the cheek of Leila, as she lies on a couch in her sumptuous chamber, and gazes into the dying embers upon the hearth. In them she reads the emblem of her own doom, a doom now too surely fixed, and coming with swift steps nearer hour by hour. For many months, she has listened to the whispered warning of its approach?has known that it cannot be far off, bnt only very lately has the revelation come to those around her, that the restored waif they so dearly love will soon be lost to them again, never more to be recovered by them in this world. ; - Mr. Chase, his gray head bowed beneath a crushing weight of sorrow, sits at her side, clasping her transparent hand in his. Arthur hovers near, moving restlessly about, trying in vain to escape from the sharp pain gnawing at his heart. Even now, he would fain persuade himself, and persuade others, that there still is hope?that the progress of the fatal disease may yet be arrested by skillful treatment; but the effort is a futile one, and secretly he feels that hope is past. "Arthur, dear"?how weak and changed is the tremulous voice, as she speaks?"will you not come and sit down near me, for a little, aod let as talk." Curbing bis restless misery, he complies, and draws a chair to her side. He shrinks from what he fears may be coming, but can not refuse her request. "Arthur, do you remember what day this is?" He answers, with an effort, that it is the twenty-first of October. "Yes, I know. Just two years ago to-day, I met you first?do you remember ?" Remember! Yes, he remembers?and tears blur his sight, as before him rises the vision of that wild western scene?the glowing woods, the sweeping prairie-land, the grand mountains stretching afar off, and above him, as he lies helpless beneath the tree, a picturesque figure bending with compassionate eyes, her slender shape and vivid dress standing out in full relief against the pale afternoon sky. The same figure, the same face, as those pressing the white pillows on the couch, and yet how different?then, glowing with health and animated, fearless and childlike and unclouded, now darkened by the mysterious shadow which be knows can never be lifted from them again, the shadow of the DeathAngel's wing. Two short years have wrought this change?but it seems to them both as though a much wider gulf stood between that time and this. "Just this very day," she goes on softly. "How it all comes back to me now ! You did not dream then, Arthur, that the wild girl of the woodB was so nearly related to you! But I was always fond of you from the first." "And I of you?you have never known how fond," he answered, in a low tone. "You are my first and only love, Leila." Mr. Chase rises and quietly slips from the room. He thinks he will leave them for a little while to themselves, for he feels that this is the leave-taking between them, and he wants the young hearts to unburden -themselves without restraint. So the poor old man goes into his own chamber, to shed tears in solitude over his broken hopes, while the two dwell sadly on the reminiscences of the brief past. "I have valued your love, dear cousin, more than I can tell, though I did not return it in the way you wished me to. But I feel now that it was so much better that I did not, for your sake. It would have made it harder for you to let me go." "That could not well be/'jhesays, under his breath. "I think, perhaps," she continues, "if I had kept on feeling quite well and gay and hopeful, as I used to do in old times, I would have felt differently' about that. But somehow I could not bring myself to look forward far, or to make any definite plans. I knew they could not last." "But Leila, tell me, darling, why you were less gay and happy here than you were before? Were you disappointed, or what?" "Oh no?it was not disappointment. You were all so good and kind to me that I could not help feeling very grateful always, and even content. But I seemed to miss something?I don't know what. It was the change from the old free life, I suppose, that weighed upon me. I used to pine for the mountains and the lakes, and the wide, wide forest. I felt shut up, sometimes, as if I could hardly breathe; and when this sickness began to creep over me, I used to fancy that if I could End myself in my old home again, and my old dress, with my bow and arrows, and range about at will, . ti i-?.i_ t. ?1? ? 1 would gee wen airecuy. jh. hbo vuij a i?ucy, you know. I don't think anything could really have cured rae." Every word of her simple speech struck deep into Arthur's heart, like a reproach ; yet she was far from meaning any reproach. He felt that what she said was true, and in the bitterness of useless regret he almost blamed the fate that had led him to discover the long-lost girl, since he had brought her away from her accustomed haunts but to die. Like a wild flower uprooted from its native heath, she had pined and faded in the new atmosphere to which she had been transplanted. She could never take root in other soil but that in that which she had thriven from infancy. The high-built walls, the narrow streets, the close air of the city, stifled her. The conventional usages, the daily forms of Bocial life which are so easy and natural to those bred in their midst, were torture to her. Her soul yearned and throbbed with the restless craving of the imprisoned bird, who sighs io bis gilded cage for the freedom of the woods, and beats his quivering wings in vain efforts to escape. And now she could feel nothing but joy in the conviction that her release was near at hand ; for in her childlike and unquestioning faith, she knew no fear. "Don't think that I regret coming," she went on, tenderly ; "don't think for an instant that you left anything undone, that could have been done, to make my home here pleasant to me. It was only that long habit had become like nature, and my real nature was so changed that I couldn't go back to it again. But it is all for the best, dear Arthur?I know that well; and I am quite, quite happy now." The sunset glow faded away, the gray hues of twilight shadowed the room. Then night came on, and I/eila slept as peacefully as a child. But the two who watched her in that last earthly sleep, saw her face change as the hours crept by, and whispered to each other that she would waken no more. They were right. When the dawn came, Heaven's own signet sealed the smile upon her lips, and they saw that she was once more free. rTo bo Continued.! S?zF A wealthy merchant who had become bankrupt was met, some time after his misfortune, by a friend, who asked him how he was getting on. "Pretty well," said he; "I am upon ray legs again." "How?already ?" "Yes; I have been obliged to part with my carriage and horses, and muBt now walk." The only difference between one man and another is whether he governs his passions or his passions govern him. IpMtltovefMf fading. "HONEST" JOHN PATTERSON'S SPEECH. During the recent session of the Radical Republican State Convention in Colombia, the delegates, in consequence of the delay of ' the committee on credentials in making a re* port, had much idle time on their handB, and as the devil always finds something for idle hands to do, it was decided to call upon Senator Patterson, who, in derision, is usually designated as "Honest John," for a speech. He immediately came to the front, and delivered himself of a harangue, which, for devilish malignity, hate and abuse of tbe white people of South Carolina, caps the climax. We publish the report of his harangue as it appears in the Charleston Neva and Courier, in order that the people of York county may be stimulated to do their whole duty at tbe ballot box in the approaching election, and thus contribute their efforts to ridding the State of such a foul blotch on humanity, whenever it may become necessary to electVdecent man to the United States Senate. The correspondent of the News and Courier says: Tom Hamilton, who manages to have the floor at all times, and who is flashed by the endorsement of his candidate, proposes that the convention hear from one whose sentiments have not been expressed. He refers to Senatoj J. J. Patterson. "Honest John" scratches his shock bead, cocks his head on one side like a canary, and actually tarns red in the face. Some unkind bystander unfeelingly remarked : "They've got John now where the hair's short" Patterson gets up, gulps dowo a tumbler of water, the edge of the glass rattling against his teeth, in consequence of a perceptible tremor of his nerves. Big Tom Hamilton and little Tim Hurley are again appointed to escort the speaker to the stand, but with a lowly sense of his own unfitness for such an exalted position, "Honest John" declines to mount the rostrum and awkwardly ambles out into the middle aisle, while Tim Hurley, in a stage whisper, wants to know if Hamilton and himself are the only Republicans in the convention, and Hamilton ostenta tiously introduces the speaker as Mr. Chamberlain's best friend. Patterson scowls back at him, and says between his teeth, "Ye thick so, dp ye," gives his trousers a reassuring hitch and launches into his say. HONEST JOHN PATTERSON. But before he begins let us take a glance at the personal appearance of the notorious carpet-bagger, a description of whom cannot fail to be of interest to the public in general, and may be of possible use to the future detective, even as Nast's innocent cartoon spotted the "Big Boss" among the Hidalgos. A man of medium stature, if anything a little above the average height, and who would be tall if it were not for a notable crook in his legs, corresponding to that of his mind. A suit corresponding to the hue of his supporters, hangs loosely about his form. His coat, a long-tail frock, reaches to the point where his calves should begin, and his trousers, having partaken of the form of his legs, wore all the appearance of having been cut with a circular saw. A massive watch chain depends at his waist, while the immaculate shirt front rivals and suggests the whiteness of the whited sepulchre - 'Iferftti W f?crTgraifptffrfrgfl "stf ffngTy resembles his compeer, Franklin J. Moses ,Jr., that were it not for the distinction in hair and complexion, he might readily be mistaken for a member of that illustrious family. His face is closely shaven, with the exception of a heavy tawny moustache, the corners of which droop downward, lending to his face a sinister hang-dog expression. His eyes are deep set and peel-out from beneath lowering brows, each of which is the exact counterpart of his moustache below. A carefully trained Napoleonic look crowns the narrow retreating forehead. his speech. Having sidled to a central pcint in the aisle with an ambiguous motion peculiar to himself, and which can only be understood when it is stated that he ever looks in one direction and proceeds in another, "Honest John," begins his say as follows: Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Convention :?This is, as I understand it, a convention of the representative people of South Carolina. I am happy to be with you, and I greet you, my friends, as Republicans. It has been said in some place that the Republican Convention in South Carolina would not meet, . .1 i- j ? t - i nut luaDK uou you are nere, nuu iu juui uuuutenancesl see a determination to do your duty. Let every man in South Carolina, rich and poor, white and black, rise up in recognition of the great importance of the hour. You have rights that men are bound to respect. No armed power under heaven dare attempt to take them from you. Carry the determination to your homes to demand that your rights be respected, and you will prove that you are not only Republicans, but American citizens, and you can't prove it any other way. The Republican party is on trial, [a voice, "yes 1 for stealing,"] and you must assist yourselves like men and repel the base attempts to intimidate and coerce you. I tell you I know a thing or two, that the great arm of the North will stand by you, and be here to protect you and see that you are not deprived of your rights by Democratic arras. (At this stage so vehement and emphatic was the speaker that he fairly danced in the aisle and squatted nearly to the floor with a certain springiness in his legs that indicates long practice in crooking those supple hinges when thrift might be supposed to follow fawning.) You have, continued the speaker, the great principles of universal freedom in your hands. ? -f Li. ?I 1. See tnat every one or you uiscnarges ma wuum duty. You have a right to your choice, and no roan, nor set of men, has the right to dispute it with you by armed force. There are three great issues before you. The first of these is reform. There is no reform in the Democratic party. If you see a community poor, beggarly, ignorant and degraded, you you may know without asking that those peo| pie are under Democratic rule. In 1868 the j great Republican party took possession of the | government, which had been shattered to 1 atoms by Democratic rule. They took it and built it up to what it is now, and yet you hear from the Democrats nothing but Reform! Reform! It is very well to shout reform when you are out of office, but I would rather trust the man who does reform while he is in office. The Republican party has acted reform, and carried it out. We don't mean the j reform that reforms the Republican party out | and the Democratic party in. The Republi* | can party in South Carolina may have doue wrong and may have made mistakes, but it is the great party of freedom, and should be protected. Take Georgia to-day, and what showing has a colored rnau ? No schools for his children, while the taxes and the salaries are higher than they were under Governor. Bullock, the last Republican Governor of the ! State. Why don't the Democratic press say something about that ? [A voice, "Because it's a lie, and you know it."] Under Governor Chamberlain reform after reform has been effected. [Deafening applause from the Chamberlainites prevented the speaker from proceeding for nearly five minutes.] Everything, he continued, has been doue that has been demanded by the people of South Carolina to bring about good government. When Governer Chamberlain became so thick with the Democracy and tbey began to praise him so much I began to get suspicious of him, and it was said that we had quarreled. I was opposed to Chamberlain for none of his reforms, but because he was too thick with the Democratic party, and I got suspicions of him. Governor Chamberlain. "Well, do you think so now ?" Patterson, continuing: No. I see that yoa "have thrown off your new friends, and Daniel is all right again. [Immense cheering, in the midst of which, Hayne, of Marion, got up and proposed three cheers for John J. Patterson's speech on the Hamburg Horror.] Why don't the Democrats vote for Chamberlaia now? What has Wade Hampton done for Sooth Carolina that he should be her Governor ? The Democrats didn't want good government, and by the eternal God they shan't have a say in the government at all. President Grant, I tell yoo, has got his eye on this State, and you know when he puts his eye on anything he meanB business. I know enough to say to you that the "man on horseback" will take care of you. You shall have the right of free speech and expression of opinion, and no armed men shall nor dare intimidate you. Albany penitentiary still stands with doors open and with plenty of room, and I warn these fire-eaters now that some of them will get there as soon as this election is over if they don't look sharp. I am rejoiced to bear that Gen. Hampton wants joint discussion, and if he can, by argument, by force of reasoning, or the power of his eloquence, convince his hearers to vote for biro, all right; but if he means by joint discussion to come with a band of armed men and say how long "we shall speak, <ftc.," why we wont put up with it, that's all. I tell you again that there is a strong power ready and willing to let its strong arm fall upon these men, who go to Republican meetings to intimidate Republican voters. The Northern people are the masters of the southern people. I thought the armies of the Union had taught them that once before; (turning to the reporters' table,) yes, put that down. I thought that the North had taught the Southern people that they were masters once before. If they haven't learnt it, they will know all about it before this election is over. [A voice, "Where were you when all this was being done?"] The power of this government will protect you and keep the Republican party in T ?. I __ U1 0-1 1 T power* xjci us imvtj uu uiuuusucu. jjoii uo go as citizens, and not behave as brutes and outlaws. The Republican party will be in power in South Carolina for ten years longer; [a voice, "You've doubled on your five years' good stealing !"] and you will never hear of the Democratic party any more. We will change the whipping-post for the school house, where every colored child can be educated and become as good as the best people in the State. The Democrats don't want the colored people educated, because if they are they can't fool them as they are trying to do now. They thought I was opposed to Governor Chamberlain. But they were mistaken. I was only opposed to his Democratic friends,-and I believe he is as sick of them now as I am. The principles of the Democratic party are the principles of HELL. AND DAMNATION, and no decent man should vote for them. The [Democratic press have said that I and Gov ernor v^imiuuermiu culcicu iuw a buuuuvi <u Washington concerning the conversion bonds, Ac., and worse than that, that after I made the bargain I told about it. Now, I have been called a liar and a thief, but I have never been called a fool, and I don't think any one thinkB Daniel a fool. They said I would oppose Governor Chamberlain. The Democratic party don't know me. The man that thinks I would do anything to bring about discord in the Republican party of this State is mistaken. I think more of my party than I do of myself. The Democrats thought we would wrangle and quarrel, but we are no fools. We know what we are about. Every day during my service for the Republican party have I laid my hand upon my heart and prayed that Ishould not swerve from my duty to the party. I have been called A LIAR AND A THIEF by the Democratic press for five years. I defy them now and here to prove that I have ever done one single corrupt act or stolen one cent from the people of South Carolina or the United States. If they can prove it I shall resign my commission, for, if I am a thief, I should not represent you in the Senate of the United States. In conclusion, I repeat that the North will help you, and they will see that Haves and Wheeler are elected, and if any thing happens in South Carolina you will still have a "man on horseback" to come to your relief. This is all Honest John had to say, and one of the reporters told him as he went to take his seat, "John you can lie faster than any man in your party." From the New York Herald. SOMETHING ABOUT BOGS. On the northwest corner of Broadway and Fiftieth street, a cozy little cottage stands, half hidden by a cluster of sheltering trees. The building is low and rambling ; a wooden fence surrounds the little garden; everything is neat, quiet and tidy; the place is unlike the ugly utilitarian packing boxes for human tttkinK Annnno ftio noifrKKnrlnff Into?it. I lilt/) TVtJAVU UUV/U yj i>uv uwiguwviiug ?vvw looks like a well-preserved grandmother, who comes up from the farm to live among her city folk descendants. It is a dear old remnant of a time Manhattan Island will never know again, and we may be ihankful that Mrs. Greatorex has given the spot a chance of immortality in) her tender, loving etchings of "Old New York." On the side walls of the house, just under the eaves, hang two long painted panels. Time and weather have dimmed the colors and dulled the outlines, but you can make out that each represents a group of dogs. These outward and visible signs are a token of the contents of the cottage, which is occupied by Dr. Henry Gardiner, one well learned in all the fancies, treatment and diseases of the canine race. Dr. Gardiner, as he is generally known, is | a quiet, sober man of color, who was born in i /X XT XT_. urange county, new xura. j?uhj jrcaio ogu be tried to work as a cooper in this city ; but the class prejudice, rampant at that time, eventuated in a broadaxe being laid to his head, whereof he to-day bears the deep indent, and so, having a liking for dogs, he took to trading in that kind of stock and doctoring them when they were sick. Dr. Gardiner is well-known to the best people of New York, for be is decent, honest and straight going. He knows dogs well and can talk well aboat them. Very often I have dropped in to chat with the old man, and ladies will come in to see how their pets are getting along or to see what peculiar novelty in dogs be has got on hand. Let us open the moving gate and enter. We find ourselves in a large, airy room, three sides of which are boxed off in stalls, j with strong wire cages standing above. At our entry a head peeps out from each stall, and perhaps a salutation of bow wow follows; but a word from the master and silence is re- ' 8 to red. Indeed, one is astonished at the con- ' stant order in which the dogs are kept. There I is a whip, but I never saw it used, for a word 1 is enough to compel perfect quiet t "Doctor, I've come to have a talk about < dogs this eveniug." i The doctor puts a tiny atom of yellow fluffi- ' Hess into its cage, takes his spectacles off and replies pleasantly: "Well, sir, I'm willing to tell you all I know. But I know most about dog-doctoring. That is my profession." "We will come to that presently. Now, tell me what is the rarest dog in the city ?" "I should say that there are fewer bloodhounds and full blooded bull dogs in the city than any others. There is a law, passed long ago, when they used to hunt colored people, which forbids any one in this State to have a bloodhound in their possession, and so there is none of them, while full blooded bull dogs are very rare. There was a man in Centre street had one, he said was full, but it wasn't more than half bull." "So there are few, if any, bloodhounds in the State ; now tell me about other hounds." "Deer hounds come first. They are thin, long, rough-haired dogs. Here are a brace of dogs that have jnst come to the city. They used to belong to Gen. Custer, and Mrs. Custer has sent them On to Colonel Frank Howe* I am taking care of them for him. The breed comes from Scotland, and will bunt on scent and on sight. The smooth-haired greyhound will onlv hunt as long as he sees his game. These deerhouods of Colonel Howe are fine dogs. Such animals, when full grown, are worth $100 to $200 apiece. I have got $150 from Mr. Brewster, the carriage-maker. These dogs are only puppies, about four months old, but they are of a good strain. Gen. Custer always had the best." I looked at the two clumsy puppies awhile. Solemn, unformed, awkward brutes, with snake-like heads, and big jointed clumsy limbs. I thought of him to whom they once owed allegiance, and how he had fallen, and then the smallest dog drew up near me, and laid his head on my knee. My hand rested on the grizzled head, and for awhile nothing was said. The room was blurred with a mist that did not rise from the earth, and the thoughts of all were far away on the Western border land, where a hero lies entombed on the battle-field, where glory gave him death. After a pause, I went on talking to the old man, who was to be their guardian. "What other hounds are there in the market?" "Fox hounds, they are worth $25 to $50 each ; harriers, $20 to $30; greyhounds, $15 to $25. They go to the West mostly ; and then there is the German beagle, low set, shambling, square shouldered dog that used to be a great favorite for rabbit hunting. They are rare now though, but are worth about $15. Then there is the Italian greyhound. They were about the first pet dogs ladies bad in this country. Twenty years ago they were in great demand, and I have known $100 given for one. Of late years, however, they have gone out of style." "What are the favorites now ?" "Pugs and black and tans. But we will come to them presently. Let us go on with sporting dogs." "What about setters?" "The Gordon setter is most in demand at present. The breed comes from the kennels of the Duke of Gordon, in Scotland, and should be black and tan without any white. They are worth from $100 to $500 each. I've sold one myself for $300 to Senor Domingo Figarola, a great dog fancier in Cuba, who has had a great many bull terriers and sporting dogs from me. Next to the Gordon setter comes the Laverock strain. They are liver and white and worth about as much as the Gordon. The red Irish setters rank next and will bring from $50 up. Mr. Rodman, of New Jersey, has a fine kennel of this strain. Then comes the English, orange and white, and there are more of them and the price is less." "Which of these breeds is the best?" "There is no 'best' to it. It is in the dog and the way he can work, but certain colors are fashionable in dogs just as in horses. All of them will set and retrieve. They have a natural propensity that way ; but, of course, they have to be trained." "Where do vou train them?" "I train them here myself to fetch and carry and to obey the word of command. When I send them to look for a ball I say 'Dead bird,' and I make them lie down to 'Down charge.' Then when they have learned to be obedient I send them to a friend in Rockland county and he finishes them in game birds# "What does it cost to have a dog trained ?" "It's worth $40 to get one thoroughly broke?" "Now what about spaniels?" "There is the Clumber or land spaniel. A low set dog with long body and short legs. Color is seal brown or liver and white. Smooth faced with a topknot between the ears. They are worth $25 to $50. Then comes the brown water spaniel. There are two kinds ; one with straight hair and the other curly. The first is an English dog and the latter comes from the north of Ireland. They are very wise dogs, and although none of them will set, yet they are worth from $15 up. The cocker comes next, that is a cross between the setter and.spaniel, and is a hard working, low set dog, that will get through * - -I*-? ? nnf rvA on/3 rUHHWUUU WUC1B a ocitci nuuiu UUI gu uuu where a pointer could not venture. Cockers will sell as high as $60, but they are not fancy dogs." "By the way, what about pointers ?" "They are not favorites in this country, for the forests are too thick for them and the brush tears their skins, which are not coated as heavily as the setters or cockers. But I forgot to mention the King Charles spaniels. They are rare and are of light weight, are worth up to $200. Mr. George Clay of No. 6 Avenue B, has a fine kennel of them, and Phil. Farley, the detective, has a great liking for this kind ef dog." "How many sorts of pointers are there ?" "There is the doublpd-nosed or Spanish pointer, which is said to be the original stock. He has a natural slit down the centre of bis nose, so that you can sometimes see his teeth through it. They are worth up to $500. Then there is the English pointer, whose nose is like that of any other dog. There are not a great many pointers, anyhow." "What comes next?" "That about winds up the game dogs. There are a lot of odd dogs, so to speak?Pomeranian wolf dogs and Siberian bloodhounds, and that kind. There are a lot of the latter at Lion Brewery, as I have heard said. They all come from the great Dane dog. You have heard of Butler, that used to live in Brooklyn, and died some time ago. He and I exhibited one of the great Dane dogs all through England and before the Queen." "How big was he ?" "He stood thirty-four inches honest measure, and when we were walking to-gether he could put his nose up to lick my face without lifting a paw. We sold him to an English gentleman for $750." "Whatare St. Bernards worth?" "A good, big St. Bernard will fetch as much as $150 or $200. Mr. Hale of Middle Village, has got a fine pair of that breed. Newfoundlands are out of fashion and not i worth so much, while English mastiffs are in great demand for country places, where they have tramps coming round the houses." "What next do you think of?" , i HWaII nnma nart ThrOfl months TT til5 IVIA 1U*O VWUiv mvmvi white bull terriers are regular fancy dogs. They are terrible .fighters, and sell , as high as ?200. Harry JenhiUgs and John Merrit fti^ to make a business matching dogs, and a!-' though Mr. Bergh has made them a good deal }f trouble, still they have adog fignt every sow and then. X never was at one, though, rhen there are the foxterrier and thqDandie Dinmont. They range from $10 to $25; and then comes the Skye terrier, the black and tan, and the English nog. These three last are the ladies' dogs. I don't count the Spitz, for they are no more account than cats; not as much, indeed, for Persians and Angoras are worth a great deal of money." "How do prices run in pugs, Skyes and black and tans ?" "Pugs are worth from $100 up. I lately offered a man $30 for a pug puppy three months old and he laughed at me. He had better have sold it, for a horse trod it to death afterwards. The value of Sykes and black and tans varies greatly. One of the former " ?" - "? ? in PKaflionn afrOAf fnf S150 ITOO OU1U UJ f? UI?U IU VUOVUHUI WV? ?V. T--a short time since. It weighed about three pounds, and had silky hair that touched the ground. Black and tans are getting common, but a choice dog will always bring a big price. I got $700 from a lady for one once. She had a desire to get the smallest black and tan there was to be found, and she kept me running for the best part of two years. At last I found one with Allen, of the Fifth At* enue Hotel, opposite Central Park, away up town, he asked $500 for ityand she dans the bargain with three hundred dollar notee right off, and sent the rest the next day. My ex* pen868 and one thing and another made up the $700. 7 "How big was that dog ?" "It was full grown, fat and sleek/ and just weighed two pounds and ten ounces. The lady weighed it against the dogs that her friends boasted on, and one weighed three pounds and three ounces, and the other three pounds and eight ounces. So you see she was a long way ahead." "What is the largest price you ever knew put on a dog?" "I've seen it printed that $50,000 was asked at a dog show for an Eoglish pug." "How was that? Nobody would give that?" "That's why the price was put on. It was * - ?.i - ?1__ ii i _L:.L 10 comply who cue ruiea 01 iuc suun, *tuku required every dog to be for sale, but allowed every exhibitor to name his price." "Talking of shows, have you been to the Centennial ?" "Not yet, sir; but I hope to go when the dogs are on exhibition." And then I came home, satisfied that, while every ddg has his day, Dr. Gardiner knew enough to give dogs under his care a chance of extra days when they feel sick. Since the great sales of cotton and woolen goods in New York the most prominent dry goods dealers bave been marking down prices. The reduction began with the down-town houses, which find their principal customers among the middle or laboring class of the population, those in short, who' have been obliged to economize their means. It has since extended to great op-town dealers, such as A. T. Stewart & Co., Lord A Taylor, ? ? ' '1 - II- B- /~1 J A II Arnold, ^x)nataDie o& oo., auu utuero. ah ui them have pat down prices, and under. the spur of competition are acting on the principle of quick sales and small profits. The policy of thus leading the way from a dull to an acti e trade by offering unusual incentives to buy is undoubtedly a good one. The better class of dealers agree that prices promise to remain low. They are convinced that they have reached hard-pan, and that they must work therein. Every sign or indication goes to strengthen their conviction. In scores of fashionable shop windows placards are now to seen, where theynever- wore soon before;? ^ announcing the cheapness of the articles on exhibition. A pair of hose that a year or two ago cost $1 or $1.25 is now labelled with a card on which is printed "50c." or "75c." . Undershirts that used to reach from $1 to $2 are now exposed in the windows and marked down to 50c. and $1. Many shirtmakers advertise to make twelve shirts for as many $1 hills, or a single shirt can oe Dongnt ior 91 at places where two years ago the cheapest they had cost two dollars. All kinds of hosiery have been marked down twelve and a half per cent, and the price of linen and fine dress goods has also been reduced. A short time ago it was predicted that, in consequence of the short crop of raw silk, the prices of all manufactured silks would advance. But thus far they have not been affected. In answer to inquiries about the matter, A. T. Stewart & Co., said : "There had been no advance in silks, and they did not know that there would be; that they had a large and splendid stock of silks, and there would certainly be no change in prices until it was sold." Arnold, Constable & Co., thought there would be a small advance, but Lord & Taylor did not be* lieve there would be any advance either in silks or dry goods for some time yet to come. Breadstuff, too, are low, but we'believe meats have not yet been reduced. With low prices for all articles of wear and consumption, lower wages will be less sensibly felt by the working classes, and having reached hard-pan, things will be better. C?r A T> ? A TOtWKal/% J\. DUt t'A-LAJ X KJl XXUDX. a uuuaiv, ?/. hunt," such as used to take place annually between the Missouri and Saskatchewan rivers, is described by H. M. Robinson in Appleton's Journal. The party, numbering hundreds, started out about the first of September, and remained on the plains until the end of October. The rendezvous was in the northeast corner of Dakota, and men, women and children, were included in the company. Carts, drawn by ponies and oxen, conveyed the baggage; and the camp was enlivened by gambling, horse racing, dancing, and occasionally by fighting. Officers were elected for the hunt, rules for discipline adopted, and then guides conducted the caravan to a place near which buffalo herds had been recently seen. The encounter with the beasts is thus described : "The chief gives the signal, and a thousand reckless riders dash forward at a wild run. Into the herd they penetrate; along its sides they stretch, the trained horses regulating tbeir pace to tbat 01 tne moving mass behind them ; guns flash, shots ana yells resound ; the dust arises in thick clouds over the struggling band; and the chase sweeps rupidly over the plain, leaving its traces behind, in the multitude of animals lying dead upon the ground, or feebly struggling in their death throes. The. hunter pauses not a moment, but loads and fires with the utmost rapidity, pouring in his bullets at the closest range, often almost touching the animal he aims at." A Tradition of Saratoga Lake.?There is an Indian superstition attached to this lake which probably had its source in its remarkable loveliness and tranquility. The Mohawks believed tbat its stillness was sacred to the Great Spirit, and that if a human voice uttered a sound upon its waters, the canoe of the offender would instantly sink. A story is told of an Englishwoman in the early days of the first settlers, who had occasion to cross this lake with a party oMndians, who, before embarking, warned her most impressively of the spell. It was a silent, breathless day, and the canoe shot over the surface of the lake like an arrow. About half a mile from the Bbore, near the centre of the lake, the woman, wishing to convince the Indians of the erroneniiflnesfl of their snnerstition. uttered a loud cry. The countenance of the Indiana fell inBtantly to the deepest gloom. .After a minute's pause, however, they redoubled their exertions, and in frowning silence drove the' light bark swiftly over the waters. They readied the shore iri safety, auddrew bp the canoe, when the woman Jwllied the .chief on his credulity. i'The Great Spirit, is merciful/' answered the scornful Mohawk; Mbe knows that a white woman cannot hold her ^ tongue ?*?Harper, ^