Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. J %n gnbepenbent Jfatnilg gtetospaptr: Jfor i|e ^ramfftiffn of t[ie political, Social, Hgriralinral anb Commercial Interests of % jjontjj. |TERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1877. NO. 45. fAfftg. KISSING THROUGH THE BARS. When I was but a boy in years, Near seventy years ago, I met a romping laughing girlPure as the driven snow; From spelling or from singing school Beneath the glittering stars, I saw her home, but at the gate I kissed her through the bars. And often then, when going by Her house at eventide, I'd whistle that familiar strain "Oh, oomel mv bonny bride!" When to the road she'd blushing come, Bright as the evening stars, And clasp my hand so lovingly, Then kiss me through the oars. Now old and gray and bent with years While in my easy chair, I sit and dream of youthful days, And hopes once bright and fur; And fancy I am young again, And gazing on the starsWhile waiting for my love to come And kiss me through the bars. While by my side sits ray old wife, With furrows on her brow ; But to me there's been no change From blushing youth, till now; But fairer grown with lapse of years, Her love like twinkling stars, Has never changed since first she met And kissed me through the bars. God bless this old gray wife of mine ^ For what she's ever been Since first we met at singing school, And all the years since then ; And often now in walking out Beneath the same bright stars, She slyly asks me how I'd like t To kiss her through the bars. Though seventy years have bleached our hair White as the mountain snow, But to me she looks as fair As fifty years ago? When roses bloomed upon her cheeks, With eyes that shamed the stars? As when a boy I saw her home. And kissed her through the bars. THAT LITTLE WIDOW. BY ROBERT C. MEYERS. She was just the neatest little woman in the world?always Brailing, always fresh, plump, and deep in her forties?one of the kind who smooth their aprons down while they talk to you. Then the little cigar shop at the corner which she kept, and where she rattled on about diffsreut brands of tobacco, and talked ^ of the weather to her customers, and the kindness which any tale of sorrow told by vagrants called forth from her?the many times her fat little hand went into the drawer for change to be bestowed on some charitable plea?all "went to make up the best tempered, the most motherly and the nicest little woman you would ever chance to meet. So thought Dr. Ash, who lived next door, and who often went in for a little snuff, you , know, but who invariably settled his wig more rakishly before popping into the shop. He used to say to her, "My! you must be lonely here. Widow Thorn?" "Oh ! not at all, sir, thanking you !" she wfinl? renlv. " W? ,wrv # * 1 wonder yon never married a second time, W idow Thorn !" "Well, it is a wonder, isn't it, doctor ? But you see, I'm such a queer old body that I guess not many could fancy me." "Madam, there you must stop! I cannot hear the divine sex disparaged," returned the doctor. He was, as they say, of the old school. She laughed. "Can't a woman speak against herself?" she asked. - "No I She never speaks against herself unless Bhe means to flatter herself by contradictory disparagement when some one is by." "Sir, you are too plain." "Widow Thorn, I was always called plain, and this wig's too big for me." T^en she laughed at him ; and what promised to be a quarrel, ended in a merry "Goodby." Then there was the baker at the corner. He was a widower, and he used to come in of an evening for a chat and a cheap cigar. Said he: "This lonely state is miserable, isn't it ?" , "Do you speak from experience?" asked slje. "Yes; my Maria's been dead fourteen years," said he. "I shouldn't think it would take so long a time for you men to forget anything," she said. "Ah I ma'am ! Man is a wonderful being? the most wonderful of God's creatures." - - "Except woman," said the widow. "You are right, widow! And that's the reason the Lord meant that every man should have a wife and every woman a husband, just to make them equal. So I think you and I must have new partners." "Now, look here, Mr. Johns! You've had your partner, and I've had mine, and death has dissolved the partnership. Now we are both bankrupt, and we can't carry on a joint business ; so we must go on pleasantly," she said, and laughingly bade him "good-night!" He had to laugh, too, because she seemed to expect him to do nothing else. Then there was the old bachelor over the way who was learning the bassoon. He used to come to his window of summer evenings, when the widow was stauding at the door tor a breath of fresh air, and he would blow away at "The Last Link is BrokeD !" till it was a wonder he did not rupture something and die. He did not smoke, nor drink, nor chew. But a brilliant idea struck him one day, and over he went. "Do you keep paper collars, ma'am ?" he asked tremblingly. "Yes, sir," she answered, smoothing her apron down. "Give me some," he said, vaguely. "What size ?" "Ob! any size!?I don't care." She looked at him. "Don't you know your number?" she asked. "No, ma'am ! But I don't care much." "Lud!" she ejaculated, "nere, air. just you take your collar off, and let rae measure it." So he did, and she handed him another. "That'll fit you, sir!" she said. Then he tried to put it on, and his hand trembled so that be broke one of the buttonholes. "Now it's done, sir," said she. "I'm afraid I am," said he. "Sir." "I mean I?I'm afraid it is!" Then he took up another, and, out of compassion, she said : "Let me button it for you. All men are death on button and button boles?I know by poor Thorn." Then she Btted on the collar, and the bachelor was ecstatic. As she handed him his change, she said: "You're the gentleman that plays such sweet, dreary tunes on the horns, aren't you?" "Yes, I play a little. But its dreadful lonely playing all by myself." "Isn't there any one with you ?" she asked. "No, I'm cursed?I'm a bachelor !" "Deary rae I that is bad 1 I'd ask you over here to play, sir " "Oh!" he interrupted. ^ "But I'm afraid the doctor next door would come in and ask if anybody was hurt," she continued. "Oh!" he said again, in quite a differ ent tone, and left. Five minutes after he was moaning out "The Last Ljnk is Broken," as if that link had in its soundness held heaven and earth together. The doctor needed a lot of snuff; the baker was clearly smoking himself into the grave with his Maria; and the bachelor used so mauy paper-collars that the little widow ordered as many boxes of his as she did of all the other sizes put together. But at last, one night, came the maid-servant from next door pounding up the Widow Thorn, telling her to come in, for the doctor was ill and didn't know anybody. Hastily throwing on her dress, in she went, and saw him lying there in a state of collapse, with his wig over one eye. "Ginger and cayenne pepper and brandy!" ordered the little widow, while she held his head. Then, forcing the fiery dose down his throat, she held him tight, while he spluttered and gasped for breath. "Whatever is the matter with him ?" asked the frightened servant "Cucumbers!" remarked tne wiaow?lor she had seen the doctor march home that afternoon with two fine specimens of that proverbially cool vegetable in his hand. Then, the Doctor becoming better, she went home as cheerful as ever, and slept the dreamless sleep of the innocent and of the non-dyspeptic. Early the next morning the baker called. "1 hear that Dr. Ash was sick last night, and that you went in ?" said he?almost as though he had a right to ask. "Yes," Bhe answered. "The girl came for me, and I did the little I could. Poor old chap! It's a pity he never married. He might have had a wife and family around bim, instead of a poor, ignorant servant-girl, who calls up the neighbors on trifling causes." "Widow 1 that's what I always say. A lone man is the devil's delight?if you'll excuse profanity. Everything conspires to make his life unbearable. What ailed the doctor ?" "Oh ! he'd eaten too freely of cucumbers." "Widow Thorn, you know Tin as much alone as he is." "Why?bless me, sir,?what are you driving at?" asked she. "Nothing!" he said, with a melancholy smile, and left the shop. Ten minutes after, she saw him go home with five overgrown cucumbers in his hands? she knew how many, for she pulled a box in the window aside to count them. She smooth" * ? - J OL - ed her apron down ana snoox ner neau. cue expected as much?and more. Just at that moment in came the bachelor from over the way. "Is anybody sick next door, ma'am ?" he asked. "Yes, sir! Dr. Ash was taken ill last night. Why ?" "I was playing'We Met, 'Twas in a Crowd,' late, feeling miserable, and I saw his servant came here, aod saw you go in with her. What ailed him ?" "Now, sir, I can't tell you. I'm afraid I've been the innocent cause of future agony to the baker at the corner by telling him; so if you'll excuse me, we'll say the doctor was imprudent." "I'm afraid I'm that myself, ma'am," he said low-spiritedly; "and lately I've got to feeling a pain here." And he pointed to the region of his heart?that is, his left side, where ? l ?_ 1 A !- 1 f nooouy s neari is, you &uuw : "Oh ! you play too vigorous, sir," she said. "I once knew a gentleman who played the 6fe lovely ; but he died suddenly, sir, and the doctor who opened him told me he was as clear as a whistle inside sir?his own, identical words : 'clear as a whistle.' Everything had gone." "But, I dare say, he was a married man ?" "Yes, indeed ! A blessed wife and twins !" "Ah! That's the reason. I'll never die that way, ma'am?for there's no one to mourn for me. I'll keep on blowing till,after awhile, you'll hear the echoes rolling in me, and I'll play the same tune twice at once, and one a bar behind the other." "Oh ! goodness gracious me 1" she said ; "you'd better see a doctor." Then hesbook his head sadly and went out. She sat in the little shop for an hour or more, writing a long letter. She inked her fingers, said "bother!" to the pen for spluttering, folded the letter crookedly, refolded it straightly, directed the envelope, put a stamp on the left hand corner, went out, dropped it in the box, and came to Dr. Ash's door, knocked, inquired how he did, and came home again. Then I think she was busy for quite a time, as all such are. Soon in popped the doctor, with a huge bouquet in bis hand. "You have saved my life, madam," said he. "Nonsense!" she exclaimed ; but she smiled in a pleasant way, too. Then he put the flowers beside her, pressed her hand, and went to see his patients. The little widow hummed a tune, tapping her foot on the floor, late iu the afternoon, when the bachelor over the way rushed to her. "I've doue it, madam," said he shivering. "Lord bless the man! What have you done ?" "I've been imprudent." "How?" "I've poured cold water down my spine till I'm almost paralyzed, and I want you to treat me as you did the doctor." "You do? Then wait! I'll mix the dose for you." And she did so. She brought it to him, made him take a gulp, and he sat down immediately on the floor, white and choking. There was quite the look of a heroine about the little widow then. "Now go home," she said, kindly; "goto bed, and let me know to-morrow how you feel." And casting a strange, bewildered look at her, he obeyed. Now, after it was twilight the little woman closed the shop, went to her room, put on her neat, old-fashioned bonnet, and, going downstairs, locked her beuse-door from the outside and was on the pavement, when up came the servant from the baker's. "What's the matter with you?" asked the littlp wirlnw. "Oh ! mem, he's took so bad that he can't speak, and he's calling for you all the time !" "Oh! I know what's the matter with him. Come inside, Jane, and I'll send him something to cure him." Then Jane went inside, and the little woman mixed a tumblerfull of a certain compound. "Five cucumbers !" she said?"and thedoctor only had two ! Consequently he'll need as much again and a half, and a little more pepper!" [She had quite a head for reckoning, I assure you]. She gave the glass to the girl, aud went out again and locked the door. i "I hope it won't hurt him !" said the little | widow. Next day the shop was not opened. The ; doctor tried the door, aud found it closed. The baker, rathershaken, camebyand looked in in astonishment. The bachelor peered from his window and wondered. But for all that, the little shop waB closed ; and closed it remained all that day and night. The doctor | was for breaking iu the door, to see if she j were inside, ill, or?dead. The baker second j ed the motion as night approached. .But 'just then the bachelor came over. "Maybe she's gone away to visit ?" said he. "Yes!?on some errand of mercy," chimed in the doctor. "She's a capital nurse; that I can testify to." "So can I," said the baker, dubiously. "She never nursed you, sir!" said the doctor. "Neither did she you !" said the baker. "Sir!" exclaimed the doctor, looking like thunder. "Sir!" exclaimed the baker, looking as much like thunder as a baker can look. "I would have you know, sir," said the doctor, "that I am superior to any insult which a dough-kneader may offer me !" "And I to any foolishness on the part of a sawbones." "Now, look here 1" said the bachelor. "J was sick, and she gave me the same kind of medicine she gave the doctor." "She sent me the same," said the baker. "She came into my house, and held my liocwJ vhilp T tnnk it." naid the doctor. He was triumphant. Then, after much haggling and quarreling, they looked at the house again ; and agreeing that she would certainly return by to-morrow, they took their ways to their respective homes. And behold ! to-morrow the good little shop was opened, and the same array of goods met the gaze of the passers-by. The little woman was seen up-staira dusting the shutters. She nodded to the milkman and to the ice-roan as usual; and at the last the bachelor saw her, and over he went, and met the docior stepping off his doorstep. "Are you going in, sir?" asked the doctor. "Yes 1" said the bachelor. "Do you snuff?" "No, I go for collars." "Then we'll go in together." And together they went in. A tall, sunburned man was there?elderly, but big and brawny. The doctor spoke up, though he was a little shaken. "We?I?that is?we should like to see the Widow Thorn, sir." "There ain't sich a person," said the man, grinning. "She's gone?vamoosed?pegged out!" "He's drunk!" whispered the bachelor. "I 1 / i _ r T ? saw ner rayseir, oeiore i came iu, upraua. "What's that you observed ?" asked the stranger. "Sir, we waDt the Widow Thorn !" boldly exclaimed the doctor. "And you may keep on wanting that old lady, gentlemen; but she won't come for wanting." Theu the pleasant voice of the little woman sounded from the next room: "Now, Charley, do just behave yourself." And there she was before them, neater-looking than ever! "Oh! Widow, good morning!" said the doctor. "No more widow than I am," chimed in the strange man, laughing. "Now, Charley, do behave," said the little woman; "and, gentlemen," turning to the doctor and the bachelor, "let me introduce Mr. Charlev. mv husband!" | "Your husband!" they both cried. "Yes, gentlemen. We've been going to be 1 married for years and years, but he vowed he'd never marry me till he'd been successful in the mines; and he has been now. We were married yesterday in Boston. I wrote him a letter telling him I'd meet bim there? and here we are! But we'll sell out this little place as soon as we find a customer." Without a word the doctor grabbed the bachelor by the back of the neck, hauled him 1 out, and tumbled him over the baker, who was coming innocently into the shop; and the 1 three were down on the pavement where Mr. . Charley picked them up. And when they were dusting themselves, he stood for a min- 1 ute in the doorway and sang out: "And if you ask for the Widow Thorn, I'll 1 tell you there ain't sich a person!" and went 1 in and closed the door. The doctor went home and abused his ser- 1 vant; the baker was seen to take a tumbler j which had held the medicine of two nights before, and which belonged to the little wid- ' ow, and dash it into a thousand fragments in 1 the back-yard ; and the bachelor all that day ! and evening sat at his third story window and 1 played "The Last Link is Broken," on the f bassoon in polka time, with accelerated pass- ! ages where the compass of the instrument J gave out. Thus may Innocence cast its halo around too-trusting Human Nature.?Philadelphia ' Dispatch. | THE LARGEST SNAKE IN AMERICA. | One of the largest snakes on record was 1 receutly killed in Louisiana, according to the ] Shreveport Times, which says: We were yes- 1 terday informed by Mr. Smith, living on < Quapaw bayou, that while he and his son < William, aged about thirteen years, were out i - J- ? _r. i??, , ID me W0008 on mouunj ancniuuu mot uir ? ving up their cattle, their attention was attracted by the bleating of a calf some dis- j lance from them. Thinking probably the poor animal had bogged, they started to its assistance. They had gone only a short distance down the bayou when they discovered a yearling in the coils of a huge snake, the body of which was suspended from the limb of a black gum tree about twenty feet from the ground, and which projected from the bank immediately over the water. Mr. Smith and his son were almost terror-stricken at the sight, and stood speechlees for several moments, unconsciously watching the movement of the huge reptile as he entwined himself around the already dead body of the yearling, and at every coil of the snake they could hear the bones of the calf break. After coiling itself around the lifeless form of the yearling and crushing every bone in its body, the 1 serpent let loose its hold from the tree and j dropped down alongside of its victim and be- j gan licking it all over, preparatory, it is Bup- j posed, to swallowing it. About this time Mr. j Smith recovered his senses, and, after watch- t ing the monster snake open its capacious } mouth several times, he fired on it with his t rifle, striking it near the head, and was quick- i ly followed by his son, who discharged a j double-barrel gun loaded with buckshot. Both t reloaded as quick as possible and again fired i on his 8nakeehip. In the meantime the rep- t I filo 1-1 or] online] ifoolf infri a hlicrp mflfifl. and I bliu 1IUU V/UIIVU 1 VUVI * auvv % .. "{3- ? , ? was making a hissing sound that could be heard fully 100 yards, and was protruding his forked tongue several feet. After discharging about a dozen volleys each, Mr. Smith and his sou succeeded in despatching one of the largest snakes ever Been in Louisiana, and, probably, North America. It measured thirty-one feet in length, and the body measured, ten feet from the head, thirty inches in circumference, and about the center ot the body, about forty-two inches. It has a regular succession of spots, black and yellow, alternating, extending from its head to its tail, while either side is a deep purple. Mr. Smith has no idea what kind of a snake it is, but thinks it must be of the boa-constrictor species. No doubt this snake has for many years inhabited that section of the j country, and depredated upon the young r. A??tv?olo #Kof noma tr 11 li! n lta * UttI VC3 aim aiiiuiaio ujui vuujv ikmiim vw reach. The skin of this huge snake has been preserved, and will be sent to Sbreveport and put on exhibition. Lived it Down.?An honest blacksmith was once grossly insulted, and his character infamously defamed. Frieuds advised him to seek redress by means of law, but to one and all he replied, "No; I will go to my forge, and there in six months I shall have j worked out such a character and earned such i a name as all the judges, law courts, and law ? ? ? >> TT_ vers in the world couia never give me. ne was right. It is by honest labor, industrious I toil, manly courage, and a conscience void of . offence, that we assert our true dignity, and J prove our truth, honesty, and respectability, j figy From the sixth to the thirteenth centu- j ries many bishops could not read, and kings t were hardly able to sign their names. Hence 1 the use of seals and sealing. ( Ipsfdtattflirois fWadittg. From the New York Bun, November 5, 1873. THE KING CARPET-BAGGER. EARLY HISTORY OP JOHN J. PATTER80N. John J. Patterson was born in Juniata County, Pennsylvania, his father being a well-to-do and respected citizen of that place. The subject of the present sketch entered the school of politics in 1853, by moving from Juniata to Harrisbtirg, where he purchased of Theo. Fenn and Philo Sedgwick the Pennsylvania Telegraph. There was nothing about him at that time to make it possible to conceive of anv political earthquake mighty enough to upheave him into the seat of John C. Calhoun. He had already set out on the road which formerly led to the penitentiary ; and as a Christian statesman had not then been invented as employment for the superfluous rogues of the land, John's chances of ending his days in making shoes or plaiting chair bottoms for the State, were as good as those of any young man of his age. The first fraud committed by Patterson after emerging from obscurity, was in swindling Mr. Fenn out of the purchase money for the Telegraph. He paid one-third cash and gave his notes for the balance at stated periods. He represented that he owned 88,000 in his own right, besides his expectations from his father. This subsequently proved to be a lie out of the whole cloth. A few months after this, and before his notes became due, Patterson sold the Telegraph to Messrs. Clyde & Miller, for an advance of 83,000, and left the city. Fenn came to Harrisburg at the maturity of the notes, but did not find his man. A diligent search brought Patterson to light, but he said he had no money, and must wait till Clyde & Miller's notes became due, when Fenn should receive every ceDt due. He refused to hypothecate Clyde & Miller's notes as security, and on Fenn's threatening to attach the money in their hands, Pattersen put up a whimpering plea that he was engaged to marry a high-toned young lady. "If," said he, "you proceed against me in this way, my prospects will be blasted. Trust to my honor and I solemnly declare I will pay you every cent I owe you." Ft?bn replied, "It shall be as you say, Mr. Patterson, a debt of honor, and I will trust you." Patterson immediately disposed of his notes to one John H. Berryhill, and when Mr. Fenn next asked him to redeem his pledge, he laughed in his face, and told him coolly to get the money the best way he could. Fenn, exasperated, went to court and obtained judgment in August, 1858, against Patterson for $3,904.22, with $918.17 of interest. But Patterson had no visible means of support, and the judgment could not be enforced. Fenn patiently bided his time till the old man Patterson died. But before he could step in, Patterson had confessed judgment to his wife, on the death of his father, for $10,000, and a judgment for that amount waB entered in the Juniata court in favor of Lucretia Patterson, his wife. In the meantime, Patterson had gone to Philadelphia, where he began banking operations in copartnership with one Samuel Slaymaker. He stayed here just long enough to fleece his partner and several creditors out of goodly sums of money. About this time Simon Cameron, the Winnebago chief, in whom it is difficult to say whether ability or wickedness is predominant, bad arisen from a raftsman and printer to a capitalist and statesman. His peculiar politics demanded peculiar tools, and Simon was not long in discovering the transcendant ability of Patterson as a political pimp. Patter ion was entrusted with the task of manipulating the counties of Juniata, Snyder and Northumberland. In this humble occupation, occasionally swindling politically and inancially in a small way, Patterson continjeri until the opening of the war displayed a ine field for a man of his acquisitive genius. Cameron became Secretary of War, and Patterson was made paymaster in the army. By he time the Senate met, it was proven that Honest John had mistaken government funds for his own, and that body refused utterly to jonfirm the appointment, upon direct eviience of flagrant overcharges. He quit the irmy in disgrace. But another arena open}d for him. Cameron had him nominated for Congress rrora the Fourteenth Pennsylvania District, tvhich at that time bad a Republican majority of 2,500 votes. But the avenging Neraetis was on bis track. Fenn had waited, as me without hope, for that balance due from Patterson for eight long, weary years. But t had never come. Honest John laughed all funs to scorn. So when Patterson began to itump his district, Fenn concluded to stump t too. He bad hundreds of handbills struck )ff, entitled "A Plain Statement of Facts," wnicn tne entire newspaper irausauuuu vas detailed in every particular. These he ;acked up at every corner, distributed in eve7 public place, and, in addition, he himself larrated his story to every farmer he met, , md who had known him throughout his for- ( ner connection with bis paper. The hand}ill was racy reading, containing such ex- , jressions as the following: "He had his ( jroperty and refused to pay me from an iniate dishonesty and a predetermination to deraud me." "Can he have the presumption, lye, the insulting impudence to ask a man to rote for him, or even to look an honest man in j he facet" 'Spurn him from your presence, ind teach other knaves who aim to make jarty politics subservient to their ambition md their avarice, that 'honesty is the best pol- ; cy,' and combine 'to lash the rascal naked , hrough the world /'" , "YVill the Republican party of this district j lanction and uphold the dishonesty of this nan, Patterson, to represent the district with his brand of dishonesty stamped upon him? Has it lost that high moral integrity that has < sver characterized it? Will it put such a nan in a position to plunder the nation, or j ' ? J tell bis party whenever ne can ao so ior ma , >wn benefit? What else can be expected of ( t knave who aspires to such a position ?" This appeal, with Fenn's personal canvass ( md the general odium into which Patterson j lad even then fallen at home, led to his dis- j istrous defeat; for the Republican party had lot then become debauched, as it now is. ( Patterson was led to consider Fenn a pret- j j troublesome customer to have hanging s iround his heels, and, some time after, made ; jeace with him by satisfying his judgments. | rhe widow of Fenn's partner fared not so ; veil, for Patterson paid that in insurance , itock, which subsequently proved to be bogus ] ind utterly worthless. In 1873, Mrs. SedgvinU wrnte navin^ that Patterson had never , mid the debt. She adds, "Mr. Patterson's | :onduct was rascally, as you probably kuow. < [ have never had any communication with ( lim since Mr. Sedgwick's death. Never has < le written a word about redeeming the bogus itock." The Sedgwick here referred to, was l brother of General John Sedgwick, of the 1 \rmy of the Potomac. i In the spring of 1863 there was to be chosen ' i United States senator irora reunsyivamo. i The Democrats had a majority of one on ' oint ballot. Cameron was the Republican 1 :andidate, and Buckalew the nominee of the i Democratic caucus. Cameron did not des- I jair. He knew the power of gold, and he i letermiued to buy one Democrat to vote for i lim or two to absent themselves on the day I >f election, He marshaled his clan. His i chief strikers were Jim Burns, a fellow named Brobst, and our dapper rogue, John Patterson. The plot was laid in secret, but the Democrats were on guard, and everj doubtful man was watched, night and day; Cameron's only chance was to buy a man hitherto above suspicion. After careful deliberation, a member from Clearfield county, Dr. Jefferson Boyer, was selected as the prey, and Brobst and Patterson were instructed to go for him. They went, they saw, and they thought they had couquered. Boyer was complacent, but detailed the risks be must run, in loss of reputation, or from personal violence. After considerable angling and nibbling, Patterson, Boyer and old Simon met at the house of Don Cameron, the present Senator, and Simon's son. Here it was agreed that Cameron should give Boyer $20,000 for his vote. The clan Cameron was t* ... A 13..* *u: ? nappy; ratierson was juuuaui. jjul tmugo didn't pan out according to expectation. When the election came on, Boyer, who was a shrewd fellow, rose in his seat and voted for Buckalew, (who was elected by two votes); and then, immediately after the result was announced, he stated that an attempt had been made to bribe him, and demanded" a committee of investigation. This was appointed, and Boyer told his whole story before it. Patterson and Probst admitted having had frequent talks with Boyer, but, of course vehemently denied the bribery proposition, for men who steal will lie, and Patterson does both. The majority of the committee, however, emphatically but decorously intimated that these worthies had perjured themselves in denying the impeachment. Dr. Boyer's testimony was fully corroborated by disinterested witnesses; and the House, on the 14th of April, by a vote of 48 to 45, passed the following resolution: "Resolved, That the Governor be requested to instruct the Attorney General of this commonwealth to institute criminal proceedings against Simon Cameron, William Probst, John J. Patterson and Henry Thomas." These proceedings were never instituted, because the Attorney of Pennsylvania was no better than the Radical Attorney Generals of the Southern States. Patterson has ever happily blended his private and bis public crimes, so that it is diffi cult to say in wbicb career be snines toe most. Hia crowning outrage was an attempt to steal from his sisters by forging a note from his deceased father. At the old man's death, the hero of this narrative was left as co-executor with one J. M. Sellers. The property, which was estimated at $25,000, was to be divided in five years between John and his three sisters, one of whom is the wife of Judge Sterret, now one of the Supreme Judges of Pennsylvania, and a gentleman of high character. Five years passed and no settlement was made. Judge Sterret went into the courts, and then John Patterson made a showing which brought the estate in debt to him in the sum of $2,890.05. The other parties disputed 1 the account, claiming swindles in several particulars, and especially charging him with having forged a note for $2,000, in which he 1 claimed $1,124 interest additional. A tedi- 1 ous suit was instituted. Patterson brought two witnesses to prove that they saw old Patterson sign the note for $2,000 in payment of 1 some western lands purchased from John. 1 These witnesses were Captain W. H. Patterson, a cousin, and Dr. Thomas Moore, a 1 brother-in-law of John's, who subsequently a mkiln in finnfk ParnlinQ TKpir UgUICll 1VI1 a nunc iu uuui/u vuiviium. amv?? evidence was of the most decided charaoter, 1 given with great detail and minuteness. A carpenter named Sherlock also gave the strongest testimony. The defendants produced a number of relatives and all the leading business men of Pittsburg, who pronounced the signature a forgery. The physician swore that the plaintiff and his witness could not possibly have been with bis father at the time they said they were. Other proof was brought of the most positive character. Nevertheless the jury found for John Patterson. The other parties appealed. Pending this appeal, Patterson came to South Carolina and begau that career which has made him doubly infamous. And now comes the strangest part of the . whole story. In 1870, Patterson, with Col. A. K. AfcLure, then a lawyer and now editor ' of the brilliant Philadelphia Times, and J. V. ( Cre8swell, were in South Carolina, and they ] met in Columbia at Nickerson's Hotel. Col. 1 McClure had been Patterson's lawyer in the ' forgery case, and although his client was ' successful, McClure had a strong suspicion that there had been rascality on Patterson's part. So much so, that after the trial, he approached Patterson, and, telling him that the jury had vindicated him of the charge of forgery, added that he did not like the aspects of the case, and Patterson must compromise with his sisters. This Patterson promised to do, but, of course, broke his word. Colonel McLure thought, however, that the compromise had heen made, and gave himself no further trouble about it. On the visit to Columbia, Patterson alluded to the trial, and then, in the presence of Mr. Cresswell, boasted to McLure that he had bribed Captain Patterson and John Sherlock to commit perjury in the suit. In one conversation, he stated to Colonel McLure (as the Colonel subsequently swore) "that it required him and the witness, W. H. Patterson, two weeks of careful study to determine which of the two or three lies could be most successfully sworn in this case." And he thought "he had 6xed it up damned cunningly by the lies they had adopted." On another occasion, in the j presence of McJLtire and UresswelJ, be open- * ed a letter containing a protested note, drawn by Sherlock, with his endorsement. Colonel McLure testified subsequently as follows: "I said, 'Colonel, is not that the price of Mr. Sherlock's testimony in your case ?' His answer was, 'Yes ; it was damned cheap?only one hundred and sixty or eighty dollars, I forget which.'" This unblushing villany disgusted Colonel McClure, and no sooner did be get back to Pennsylvania than he went to Dauphin County, had bis name erased as counsel for Patterson in the case, and then made a lengthy statement under oath, part of which is quoted above. The case was still on the [locket in 1873. Such is a brief biography of Patterson. His sriraes committed in South Carolina are not given, because they are too notorious. He got possession of the Blue Ridge Railroad, with Colonel Tom Scott and others, and swindled them and stole everything it had, M amounting, it is charged, to hundreds of thou- ^ sands of dollars. Then he bought up the ^ Legislature on several occasions, both to pass 8 bills and to secure his election as Senator. c He has systematically stolen from youth, and 8 not a hundredth part of bis villainies are pub- u licly known. 1 This is the man who is now under indict- c tnent in the State courts, and who should be I brought to the penitentiary, either in this c state or Pennsylvania, for he has committed 8 countless crimes in both States. He is a f jisgrace to the nation and the age. J The Land of the Pharaohs.?The past s lends to Hgypt a charm more entrancing man i its cloudless skies and delicious climate. Go t where you will, antiquity meets you at every t turn. Around you lie the ruin of cities whose t very names have been obliterated in the si- i lent march of the ages. Before you flows the a jacred river upon whose waves floated, centu- s ries ago, the little ark of the outcast Hebrew c infant, and the golden barge of the gorgeous a daughter of the Ptolemies. Time was when s this old Nile was the highway down which t many successive nations rushed to conquest, c for the Ethiopian, the Assyrian, the Persian, the Roman, and the Saracen have all lorded it in turn in this ancient realm of the Pharaohs. Now vexed no longer with the fleets of rival monarcbs, the mighty river rocks with slumberous swell the lotus lilies on its tranquil breast, and its lonely banks, wbich have rung so ofteu in days gone by to the shrill paean of triumph, the palms in the sultry noontide throw their long shadows athwart the ruined temples and colossal statues, grand i in execution and faultless in detail, which reveal in every outline the perfection to which the arts of architeeture and sculpture were < carried in this their earliest cradle. The soil is strewed with fragments of broken columns and defaced colossi. Buried beneath the drifting sand of the desert, lie the glorious and yet grotesque masterpieces of the Egyptian chisel. Serene, grave, majestic, inundated i with a flood of harmonious light, the calm features of the once inscrutable sphinx look ' * ? 1 down upon us, as many centuries agu muy looked down in their grand repose upon the 1 wondering father of history. Time has pressed lightly on these Titantic temples and vast tomb places, but from their shadowy portals the worshippers have gone forever. Desolate and state-fallen, they open now only to admit the curious stranger.?Chambert? Journal, MONEY. What is money ? Look at it; little circu- 1 lar pieces of dingy copper, or shining silver, j or gaudy gold. Can we eat it ? or drink it ? or make a garment of it ? or warm ourselves : at its glitter ? No, a handful of stones picked up by the wayside would answer these purposes just as well. No, it is hard and cold as the hearts of those who heap it up merely ' to gaze upon it, and count it in secret day by J day, without a thought of making one fellowcreature the happier for all their hoard. 1 Money lying idle is like man lying idle?lum- 1 ber, only lumber. But now let us look around 1 and see what it can do when sent forth to 1 work at the bidding of man, and we shall ac- 1 knowledge a mighty magician ; for who can ! count the good and pleasant shapes in which 1 it will return to its owners ? Food and raiment, fire and medicine, books, houses, horses, 1 cattle, schools, ships, railroads, pictures, mu- 1 sic, parks, gardens, museums ; all that may ! help us to climb the hill of progress, to adorn 1 this beautiful earth, or to multiply the graces of life. Money bears the good tidings of the ( gospel message over land and sea, to soften < savage hearts and draw closer the bonds of j universal brotherhood. Money feeds the bun- . gry, clothes the naked, heals the sick, strikes ? the fetters from the limbs of the slave. , Money is knowledge, power, freedom, beau- j ty. Why then does St. Paul tell us that the , love of money is the root of all evil ? Alas! ( the reason is not far to seek. Turn your eyes , from the sunny side of the mighty magician, ( and see the mighty shadow he casts upon the \ earth. Once more, money has gone forth on t man's errand, and what are its transforma- | tionsnow? War, conquest, bloodshed, cruel g oppression, the gaming-table, the betting ring, ] drunkeness, and all their ghastly train. Be- . hold it in the garh of the serpent, tempting t the house-breaker and the murderer to their a deadly deeds, lighting the gin palace in the e city, filling the village ale-house, emptying the ^ home fireside. Beholding it severing the ] dearest ties of kindred and friendship, listen s to its whisDerincr to the voter to betray a pub- i lie trust, watch it luring men and women into | unhallowed marriages wherein love has no t part. Thus siugs a poet of the olden days: r "Gold begets in brethren hate; t Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create; Gold alone does passion move; 8 Gold monopolizes love. i A curse on her and the man t \yho this traffic first began ; j. A curse on him who found the ore; , A curse on him who digged the store; 1 A curse on him who did refine it; r A curse on him who did first coin it; g A curse, all curses else above, , On him who used it first in love." * Leisure Hour. d E PECULIARITIES OF TfiE ARABS. t No Arab is curious. Curiosity with all p Eastern nations is considered unmanly. No u Arab will stop in the street, or turn his head n \o listen to the talk of bystanders. No Arab s will dance, play on an instrument, or indulge c in cards or any game of chance, since games fa if chance are forbidden by the Koran. Nev- s ir, moreover, invite an Arab to take a walk v with you for pleasure. Although the Arabs p ire on occasion good walkers, they have no fi lotion of walking for amusement. They on- tl y walk as a matter of business. Their tern- li lerance, their out-door habits, render all out- y lour exercise, for exercise sake, unnecessary; r ;hey cannot, therefore, understand the pleas- d ire of walking for walking's sake. What u Arabs like best is to sit still, and when they lee Europeans walking up and down in pubic in Algeria, they say, "Look, look! the ^ Christians are going mad!" The Arab does lot even mount on horseback except as a c natter of business or for his public carousals. * And when you do walk, you should not walk a luicklv. iust as in talking you should not talk | c ast or loud, for the Koran tells you, "En- r< leavor to moderate the step, and to speak in ? i low tone, for the most disagreeable of voices . s the voice of the ass." h Indeed, it was observed by a famous Arab, " 'Countless are the vices of men, but one . ,hing will redeem all, propriety of speech." J* knd again, "Of the word which is not spo- ^ ten, I am the master; but of the word which s spoken, I am the slave." The famous ; jroverb, speech is of silver, but silence is of ;old, is a motto of Arabic origin. 'J A silent, grave people are the Arabs, and 11 l polite one too, very much given, neverthe- !? ess, to highway robbery on a large scale; but he Arab's tent is always open to you, and j? rou can get any amount of coucoussou, camsi's milk or roasted mutton, if he has it. You vill be treated as a guest from God as long as q rou are under bis roof, after which your bap- ?7 >iness is in your own hands, which means hat your host, who fed you in the evening, ? nay, at a decent distauce from his tent, rifle 8, 'our saddle bag in the morning, and let the 8, >owder speak to you if you object, after ^ yhich Allah be merciful to you! ^ Benefit of Pain.?Life would be a se- a ies of disasters, without the warning voice of >ain. Infancy would be maimed or perish ^ lefore experience could inform it of its dan- ft ;er. Lord Kaimes advised parents to cut the tj ingers of their children "cunningly" with a C) :nife, that the little innocents might associate w uffering with the glittering blade before they a ould do themselves a worse injury ; but if no a mart accompanied the wound, they would cut ip their own fingers with the same glee that hey cut up a stick, and burn them in a can- tl lie with the same delight that they burn a tl >iece of paper in the fire. Without pain we tl ould not proportion our actions to the ^ trength of our frames, or our exertions to its b lowers of endurance. In the impetuosity of 'outh, we should strike blows that would ? irush our hands and break our arms; we 0 hould take leaps that would dislocate our j8 imbs, and, no longer taught by fatigue that jc he muscles needed repose, we should con- n inue our sports and our walking hours till we k tad worn out the living tissues with the same c] inconsciousness that we now wear out coat ]{ tnd shoes. The very nutriment which is the upport of life would frequently prove our leath. Mirabeau said of a man, who was idle e: is he was corpulent, that his only use was to nc how how far the skin would stretch without ir lursting. Without pain, this limit would be ti lonstantly exceeded, and expicures, experien- ft clng do uneasy sensations, would continue their festivities until they met with the fate of the frog in the fable, who was ambitious of emulating the size of the ox. An eminent physician mentions the case of a gentleman who had lost the sense of heat in his right hand, and, who, unconscious that the cover of a pan which had fallen into the fire was burning hot, took it out and deliberately returned it to its proper place, to the destruction of the Bkin of the palm and fingers. This of itself would be an accident of incessant occurrence if the monitor were wanting which makes us drop such things quicker than we pick them up. . Pain is a grand preserver of existence; the sleepless sentinel that watches over us. The Obgin op the Piano.?The piano began to make its appearance about the be* / .L - -!-L. it x Tl_ ginning 01 me eignteentn century, a us invention, like many others, is disputed, and England, France, Italy and Germany claim to have a share in the honor. Pianos were certainly made for the first time in the four countries within a very few years of each other; but in Germany alone did they succeed. Silbermann improved upon the invention of Schroeter, and constructed pianos which met with Bach's approbation. From this dates the success of the piano in Germany. Frederick the Great had no less than forty of Silbermann's pianos in his palace at Berlin; and when Bach visited him he insisted upon the old man trying every one. Stein of Augsburg was also a celebrated maker; and Mozart, in one of his letters, describes the care taken by Stein in seasoning the wood, which was exposed to all sorts of weather, and afterwards had all the cracks filled up with slips of wood glued Into them. In England the piano made no sensible progress until 1760, when twelve German workmen?afterwards called the "twelve apostles"?arrived in search 5f employment Dibdin, at a concert in 1767, played on the first piano publicly exhibited, ' and after that the instrument became very popular, and harpsichords more and more in disrepute. Sebastian Erard made a great improvement in the touch; and Broanwood, who came to London from Scotland in 1751, introduced what he called his "grand action," which removed many defects. From that day until the present the piano in England has been improving. Powhattan's Chimney.?A Gloucester correspondent of the Richmond Whig says: 'A short time ago 1 had the pleasure of visiting what remains of the royal palace of the princely Powhattan, in this county. A huge itone chimney, built in the most substantial nanner, with a broad fireplace on which logs 'our feet long can be put, marks the place so replete with interest to the Virginian archse>logist It is situated on the York, at the nouth of what is cow called Timberneck creek ; but the king of the forests called it Vereowocomico, on the farm owned by Mr. Fohn H. Seawell. A rode cabin has been milt to the chimney, and cow, around the tame hearth where his majesty the King of Pamaonkee and their .royal highnesses the >rinces and princesses gathered to smoke their lative weed, a son of Africa, with his brokenitem med chalk pipe, gathers his sable brood, ill unconscious that royal feet have stood vhere he now stands, and royal forms have ain where he now lies. Here that event vhich doubtless saved the colony is said to lave occurred?the rescue of Captain Smith >y Pocahontas. This old chimney, known is 'Powhattan's Chimney,' is one of the few v l i! x T J! eminaers leu us oj time 01 me great xuuiau ring." ? A Mother's Influence?It is hard for i young mother who has not overcome the ray ward tendencies of her own youthful naure, to realize the influence she exerts over ler little ones. She is constantly surrounded >y critical imitators who copy her morals and nanners. As the mother is, so are her sons ind daughters. If a family of children are tlessed with an intelligent mother, who is lainty and refined in her manners, and does lot consider it necessary to be one woman in he drawing-room and an entirely different lerson in her every-day life, but who is a true aother and always a tender, charming wonan, you will invariably see her habits of peech and perfect manners repeated in her hildren. Great, rough men, and noisy, busy toys, will always tone down their voices and tep quietly, and try to be more mannerly rhen she stops to give them a kind word and ileasant smile?for a true woman will never ail to say and do all the kind and pleasant binge she can, that will in any way help to ift up and cheer those whose lives are shaded rith ber care and toil. The mother of to-day ules the world of to-morrow. Think of it, ear sisters, and guard well your home treasres. Rosewood.?It has puzzled many people 3 decide why the dark wood so highly valued >r furniture, should be called rosewood. Its olor certainly does not look like a rose, so re must look for some other reason. Upon sking, we are told that when the tree is fresh ut, the fresh wood possesses a very strong ose-like fragrance, hence the name. There re half a dozen or more kinds of rose wood rees. The varieties are found in South Amer:a and the East Indies and neighboring ilands. Some times the trees grow so large bat planks four feet broad and ten feet in mgth can be cut from one of them. These road planks are principally used to make be tops of pianofortes. When growing in be forest, the rosewood tree is remarkable for a beauty, but such is its value in manufacjres as an ornamental wood, that some of ie forests, where it once grew abundantly, ow have scarcely a single specimen. In flia rrnoornmonf hud nrilHflnt.lv had reat plantations of this tree set oat, in or* er to keep up the supply. One of the most audacious English uacks that ever lived, was J. Harrison Curtis, aurist." He knew almost absolutely nothlg of the profession that he adopted, but he ot something of a reputation, and was once immoned to attend Sir Robert Peel, who was iffering from temporary deafness. He went rovided with two watches, one that ticked ery weakly, and another that made as much oise as a clock. Peel began to question him i to his mode of treatment, but Curtis, givig him a dig with a syringe, told him if he idn't hold his tongue some injury would belli him. The quack at first applied the weak eking watch to Sir Robert's ear, and of Durse he couldn't hear anything; but after orking for some time he applied the other, ud Peel could hear perfectly well. It was a iarvelou? cure. - A Sculptor.?Brown and Smith, two genemen well known to every one who walks le street, were out a few days since? when ley were met by an overdressed individual ho appeared as if he thought he was someodv. and wanted every body to know it. Do you kDow that chap, Smith ?" said irown. "Yes I know him?that is, I know f him." "Well, who in the name of sense i he ?" "Why, he's a sculptor." "Such a loking chap as that a sculptor?surely you iust be mistaken." "He may not be the ind of a one you mean, but I know that he biselled a tailor?out of a suit of clothes 1st week." A Harrisburg fowl fancier gives this iperience: When a woman makes up her kind that a hen shall not sit, and the hen takes up her mind that she will, the irresisble meets the immovable, and every law of fature is broken or perverted.