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lewis grist, proprietor, j fitbtphtknf Jfamilj ^tetospaptr: Jor % promotion of t|i political, Social, ^.gricaltnral anb Commercial Interests of t|e j&ontji. |terms?$3.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 24. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JUNE 27, 1878. NO. 26. _Ll * .._ . . - ihe stoni Irtlct. A PRE AM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. When I was twelve years of age I was iuvited by Mrs. Hall, my godmother, to pay her a visit before going to a boarding school, where I was to remain for a few years. My mother had died when I was very young, and my father thought it better for me to be at a nice school, where I would be among girls of my own age, than in a house with only bis sister and himself. Mrs. Hall was very fond of me ; she had no children of her own, and, had my father consented, she and Mr. Hall would have taken me to live with them en* tirely. It was a lovely day in June when I arrived at my godmother's, and she was delighted to see me. The house was beautifully situated on high ground, surrounded by grand old trees, and on one side was a flower garden. One morning godmother said to me: "Come up stairs with me, Lilian, and I will Show vou some Indian jewels that my uncle left me lately." She ..opened the drawof inlaid sandalwood cabinet and took out a small case, in which were a pair of earrings, a brooch aud necklace of most beautiful diamonds. I thought I bad never seen anything so beautiful before. "My dear Lilian," said she, "I intend to give you these on your sixteenth birthday. I see, however, there is a stone loose in one of the earriugs, so I will take it to town to-day and have it repaired." She folded it up carefully and put it in her purse ; the case with the other diamonds she put in one of the drawers of her dressing-glass. After lunch Mr. and Mrs. Hall took me with them to the town, which was about four miles distant. The earring was left at the jeweller's and as we were to spend the day at a friend's house we arranged to call for it on our way back. But you will say, what has all this to do with your dream? Well, wait a little and you will see. We spent a pleasnt day, called for the earring on our way, and arrived home about half-past nine o'clock. As I was taking off my bonnet, godmother came into the room. "Lilian," said she, "I cannot find the case of diamonds anywhere. Did I not leave it in ray dressing glass before I went out ? I went to put in the other earring now, and it was not there. Who could have taken it?" "You certainly left it in the dressing-glass drawer." I said. "Could any of the servants have taken it, do you think ?" "I am sure they would not," she answered. "I have had them with me for years, and never missed aovthing before." "Are there any strangers about that could have come in through the window ?" "No, Lilian ; there are no strangers about the place except the gardener, aud he seems a most respectable man. I got a very high character of him from his last place ; in fact we were told that he was a most trustworthy person." Next day there was a wonderful commotion about the missing jewel case. The police were sent for, and every place was searched over and over again, but to no purpose. One thing however puzzled us; on the windowsill was a foot-mark, and near the dressingtable a little bit of earth as if of a shoe or boot, which led as to think that the thief must have come in through the window. But how did he get up to it ? It was a good height from the ground, and the creeping plants were not in the least broken, as would have been the case had any one climbed up by them. A ladder must have been employed, and it was little to the credit of the police that this fact had not been properly considered. As the matter stood it was a mystery, and seemed likely to remain so, and only one earring was left of the valuable set. In a few days I left for school, where I remained for four years. I spent every vacation between my home aud my godmother's. We often spoke of the stolen diamonds, but nothing had ever been heard of them, though a reward of ?50 had been offered by Mr. Hall for any information that would lead to the detection of the thief. On mysixteenth birthday my godmother gave me a beautiful watch and chain aud the diamond earring, which she had got arranged ss a necklace. "I am so sorry, Lilian," said she, "that I 1 .. .1 . -X1 *i J: , nave not ine rest 01 muse umuuiuuo iu g,vc you ; but if ever they are found, they shall he yours, my dear." I must now pass over si?: years, which went by quietly and happily, nothing very important taking place until the last year, during which time 1 had been married. My husband was a barrister. We lived in the north of Engand. My raother-in-law, Mrs. Benson, and Mary, one of her daughters, lived some miles away from us, near the sea-coa9t. It was a very lonely place, a long way from the little fishing town, or rather village, of Burnley. I confess I often felt very nervous about Mrs. Benson and "her daughter liviug alone (her husband having been dead many years.) Except three women-servants in the house and the coachman and his family, who lived in the lodge, there was no one nearer than Burnley, four miles off.. Besides, it was known that there was a large quantity of plate in the house ; and the little seaside village was often the resort of smugglers and other wild and lawless characters. One day, while thinking of them, I felt so uneasy that I said to my husband: "I hope, Henry, there is nothing wrong with your mother; she has been in my mind all day. "Oh 1" said he, "why should you feel so anxious about her to-day ? I saw her last Tuesday ; and if she were ill, Mary would be sure to let us know. It is only one of your 'fancies,' little wife." Still I did not feel easy, for more than once before my so-called "fancy" had proved to he a " qa T rlafnrminor) that in a fow days I would go and see Mrs. Beoson. All that evening I could not get her off ray thoughts, and it was a long time before I went to sleep. I think it must have been about three o'clock in the morning that I woke in a state of terror. I had dreamed that I saw Mrs. Benson standing in the window of her bedroom, beckoniug me to come to her, and pointing to a female figure who was stealing along under the shade of the trees in the avenue, for the moon was shining brightly. I started up, thinking I heard her calling me. And there is the most extraordinary part of it all?though I was now quite awake, I heard, as I thought, a voice saying to me: "Go tell Mrs. Benson, Martha is deceiving her; tell her to send her away at once.". Three times these words seemed to be repeated in my ear. I can't describe exactly what the voice was like. It was not loud, but quite distinct; and I felt as I listened that it was a warning, and that I must obey it. I woke my husband and told him my dream and the words I had heard. He tried to calm my mind, and evidently thought me loolish to be so frightened by only a stupid dream. I said I would drive over the first thing after breakfast and see if anything was wrong with Mary or her mother. The only thing that puzzled me was that Martha should be mentioned as deceiving Mrs. Benson. She acted as house keeper and lady's maid to her, and was believed to be most trustworthwy in every way. She had been four years with her and was much respected. She was a silent, reserved kind of person, about thirty-five years of age. One thing I had often remarked about her was, that, when speaking to any one she never looked straight at them ; but I thought it might be from a kink of shyness more than anything else. As soon as breakfast was over I set off, telling my husband I would very likely not return next day ; and if possible., he was to come for me. He could drive over early and spend the day; and we would return home together in the evening, if all was well with mother. When I arrived I found Mrs. Benson and Mary looking as well as ever, and everything seemingly just as usual. Martha was sitting at work in her her little room, which opened off Mrs. Benson's dressing-room. I could not help looking at her more closely than I would have done at any other time, and I thought I saw a look of displeasure cross her face at seeing me. Mary and her mother were, of course, delighted to see me, and asked why Henry did not come too. So I told them I would stay till the next day, if they would have me, and Henry would come for me then. They were quite pleased at that arrangement, for it was not very often my husband could spend a whole day with thenar """**" " "J " As the day passed on and nothing out of the way happened, I began to think I had frightened myself needlessly, and tnat ray dream or vision might have been the result of an over-anxious mind. And then Martha, what about her? Altogether I was perplexed. I did not know what to think; but I still felt a certain undefined uneasiness. I offered up a silent prayer to be directed to do right, and determined to wait patiently and do nothing for a while. I almost hoped I might hear the voice again, giving me definite instructions how to act. Lunch passed aud dinner also ; and the evening being very warm, for it was the middle of July, we sat at the open window enjoying the cooling breeze that set in from the sea. As they were early people, shortly after ten o'clock we said, "good night," and went up to our bed-rooms. My room looked on the avenue, some parts of which were in deep shade, while in other parts the moon shone brightly through breaks in the trees. I did not feel in the least sleepy; and putting out my candle I sat by the window, looking at the lovely view ; for I could see the coast quite plainly, and the distant sea glittered like silver in the 1 moonlight. I did not think how long I had i been sitting there, until I heard the hall clock ! strike twelve. Just then I heard, as I thought, a foot step outside of the door, which evidentj ly stopped there, and then in a few seconds I passed on. I did not mind, thinking it might be one of the servants, who had been up later than usual, and was now going quietly to bed. I began to undress, not lighting the candle again, as I had light enough from the moon. As I came toward the window to close it, I saw, exactly as in my dream, a female figure? evidently keeping in the shade of the trees? going down the avenue. I determined to fol low and see who it was, for I now felt the warning voice was not seut to me for nothing, and I seemed to get courage, girl though I was, to fathom the mystery. I hastily dressed, threw a dark shawl over ray head, and going noiselessly down stairs, opened the glass door in the drawing-room window, and left it so that I could come in again. I kept in the shade of the trees as much as possible, and quickly followed the path I had seen the woman take. Presently I heard voices on? was a man's, the other a woraau's. But who was she? I came close and got behind a large group of thick shruhs. I could now see and hear them quite well ; they were standing in the light; I was in a deep shade. Just then the woman turned her head toward me. It was Martha 1 What did she want thereat that hour? And who was this man ? I was puzzled. Where had I seen that face before ? For that I had seen it before, I was certain ; but where, and when, I could not remember. He was speaking in a low voice, and I did not hear very distinctly what he said, hut the last few words were: "And why not tonight? Delays are dangerous, especially now, as they are beginniug to suspect me." "Because Mrs Benson's daughter-in-law is hero, and she is sleeping in the room over the ? ' - 4 - ~ -j ? 1 j v-v? aiima * r\ kfiflm t kn I pmie ciuaei, aim wwuiu uc ouio iu ucai mc I least noise. Wait uutil to morrow night; I she will be gone then. But, indeed, John I ! don't like this busiuess at all. I think we'd | better give it up. No luck will come of it, I | am sure." "Look here, Martha," said the man "I | have a chance of getting off safe now. I j have it all settled, if you will only help to I get the old woman's plate. With that and a ! few little trinkets I happened to pick up a 1 few years ago, you and 1 may set up in business over in America. The other fellows will help me. Meet me here to morrow night, to let me know that it is all safe for us. See here. I have brought you a valuable present. Keep it until the plate is secure with me; for you must stay uutil all blows are over; then make some excuse for leaving, and come over and join me in New Yo?-k. If : you want raouey, sell these diamonds in Liv| erpool; they are worth no end of money." I could see quite well that he took some! thing out of his pocket aud gave it to her. She held it up to look at it; and there, glis: tening in the bright moonlight, I saw my | godmother's diamond earriug!?the one that had been stolen over nine years ago, with the ' other jewels, from her room. Here, then, at last was the mystery solved, ' everything made clear, and all through my I dream ! Presently the light fell on the man's j face again, aud 1 instantly recognized my godmother's very respectable gardener. A deceut man he was believed to be, but a thief i all the time, and one who bid his evil deeds I under a cloak of religion. And who was ! this woman he seemed to have got such power over? Evidently his wife; for I gathered that from his conversation with her. I waited where I was until they were both goue? i Martha back to the house aud her husband I to the village ; then, as quietly as I could, I returned to the house and reached ray room. Falliug on ray knees I gave thauks to God ; for making me the means of finding out : Buch a wicked plot, and, perhaps, saving the | lives of more than one under that roof, for it ! is more than likely that had those desperate men been disturbed in their midnight plunder, they would not have hesitated at any I deed which would enable them to carry out ; their wicked plans. I slept little that night, and next morning tried to appear calm and composed, though I was frightened and really ill. I was louging for my hushand to come that I might tell him all, and consult what was best to be done, to prevent robbery and perhaps blood1 shed. At last, to my great relief, I saw him I coming. I ran to the gate to meet him, and i told him what I bad seen and heard the night i before. "Now," I said, "will you ever laugh at my 'fancies' again ?" "No, my dear little wife," said he. "I nevi er will." i We then arranged that we should tell his i mother and sister everything ; and he was to ! go to the nearest police station and arrange | with the chief officer to have a number of i men ready in the wood near the house at 12 j o'clock that night; that after dinner we were j to say "good-bye" to Mrs. Benson, and drive ! home; but would return and join the police in the wood, and wait there until they saw Martha leave the house to meet her hushand. We were then to get in and wait until the thieves came in when they were to be surrounded aud taken prisoners. My husband wanted me to remain at our own house; but ! I would not do so, as I said I would only be | imagining all sorts of dreadful things ; besides his mother and Mary would like to have me j with them. j It all turned out as well as could be. The j night was very fine ; and just at 12 o'clock 1 Martha stole down to the place where I had 1 seen her the night before ; then we all, about j a dozen policemen and ourselves, went into I the house. The men were stationed out of sight in different rooms, waiting for the robj bers' entrance. Henry came up to Mrs. Beni son's room, where all of us women were, in| eluding the two servants. With breathless | anxiety we watched and waited. From where : I stood I could see the way they would corae. It was about 2 o'clock when I saw Martha coming up the walk, and four men with her. | "Look !" I said ; "there they are." They ; went around to the back door, and we heard them stealing along the passage in the direc' tion of the plate closet. Then a sudden rush?a scream from the wretched Martha? ! imprecations loud and bitter?a shot?anoi.h| er scream 1 . "May God grant no lives will be lost!" we prayed. roor.Mary nearly fainted. At last we heard the officer call Henry to come down. The four men were well secured and taken to the police station. Martha was taken there i too. She confessed she had let them in for the purpose of stealing the silver. One of the robbers was slightly wounded in the arm, but no one else was hurt. Very thankful was I when I found next day that none were the worse for having gone through such a terrible scene. The house where Martha's husband lodged was searched and the case of diamonds and many other valuable articles found there. This immensely respectable gardener had been a disgrace to his family and his profession. Left very much to himself through the indulgence of his employer, he had contracted the habit of tippling with low associates at the neighboring village, and became so completely demoralized as at length to ussume the degraded character of a burglur. Now came the retribution which attends on wrong-doiug. The thieves were all tried at the next assizes, and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. It is now many years since all this happened ; but I can never forget what I went through those two dreadful nights; though I remember with thankfulness that, through my dream and the warning voice I heard, I was thft mpann of averting a creat wrouc. aiad perhaps murder. I do not impute anything supernatural to ray dream. It may have merely been the result of tension of feelings, supported by some coincidences. At all ! events, the results were such as I have desj cribed. ^VliscfUaucotis fRealfog. IMMIGRANTS. On the 4th of May last, we published an article headed "Immigration and Development," which we trust will prove to be seed ' sown in the ground. Within the past few days we have received from an esteemed friend in Darlington a letter in which be says, "in response to a recent suggestion of yours, we have have formed an Immigration Society for this county." In the latter portion"of his letter he "sAW, "we propose attempting to obtain a subscripj tion of one hundred farms, of fifty acres each, j and giving these away to bona fide settlers, who will expend five hundred dollars (500) in improvements upon the farm, and reside on the same for five years. What do you think of this ?" We say, emphatically, we think admirably well of it, and that it is a step iu exactly the fight direction ; but we warn our DarlingtoD friends it is but a single step toward a goal that we fear is quite a distaoce away. Similar organizations should be formed in every county in the State, and each should have i n/-\ 1 F m/iArr\A?>ufo/l or\ f o f tkotr ma tr ka ro iiocn iuu;i puiaicvi, ov; iwab nitj ujuj ihmu method in their operations. Voluntary associations are worthless. If such organizations could be organized this summer in a majority of the counties, (and we do not see why they could not be in every couuty in the State,) J they should then demand a plank in the i platform of the approaching campaign, requiring that every candidate that expected to receive their votes must commit hirasef to the policy of grauting State aid to immigration. These organizations being incorporated need not be composed of large real estate owners alone, but should be co-opeative associations of stock holders to whom shares of such value that most of the voters could become stock-holders would be issued. We do not pretend to suggest the details of such associations, but we do say that unless there can be concert of action all over the State, j and that unless this concert can induce the j Legislature to make appropriations to further their projects, the voluntary efforts of individual citizens will amount to naught. All over this broad Union there is an unconquerable prejudice against the State of South Carolina. In political circles the nAine is not mentioned that the spirit of 1861 is not suggested. Hamburg, Cainhoy and Elleuton j are household words in the mouths of Northj ern Republicans, and frequently, of late, have I we met otherwise well informed men who, j after inquiring about the State, in a sort of clu! biously interrogating mauner, would say: I "And you think it would be safe for a man to ' go down into South Caroliua?" Then, agaiu, South Carolinians have the | reputation of being haughty and exclusive. Immigrants are exceedingly jealous of their social rights. Fleeing from the governments of tlie Old World, where class distinctions are as marked as the systems of government, and emigrating to a land notably the laud ofequal rights, they naturally avoid those sections where social distinctions are the general rule. The class of foreigners who come to America that we of the South want, aud the ouiy class that we should attempt to introduce, believe that every man in South Carolina is either a j proud aristocrat or an abiect slave, and as ! 1 they cauuot aspire to be the former they an-1 ticipate their lot will be cast with .he latter, | aud hence decline coming. The ordinary j foreign laborer that is landed in this country ' does not know whether South Carolina is a part of the United States or a part of some j other government. Again, almost all the foreign importations I with whom we have talked have an idea! that South Carolina is an exceedingly sickly i country, and do not believe that a man of cr- i I diuary health could live there. Moreover, j ; they say you grow nothing but cotton there, and we don't know anything about that crop. I ' And they will invariably ask, what has your ' State done for immigration ? Now these are all obstacles in the way of ! private enterprise. "The State," with all i these people means the power to accomplish, i and unless the State co operates in some sub- j stantial way, they can never be turned from | | the Westward tide by the inducements from i ! private individuals. And unfortunately for | 1 South Carolina, these prejudices which are ; i drilled in the ears of foreigners as soon as j i they arrive, pre-exist in the minds of the j | Northern people, and hence they will be that J much more difficult to overcome. We cannot in a newspaper article present i all the minuliaj of this question, but we think we have said enough to establish one fact, that unless we can get State aid all our individual efforts at immigration will be fruitless. When the State speaks there is authority; when individuals speak it is a simple petition. Well, it may be asked, what sort of State aid is necessary ? A ft present we merely want the establishment of'in Immigration and Agricultural Bureau, qpiubined in one, whose duty it shall be to ccjlect and collate every imaginable natural cr artificial resource the State possesses; to'record every donation made the State for immigration purposes, and if need be to survey and plat every tract of land that might be given or bequeathed to the State; and after so much is done, to publish in a succinct and lucid form ail this information and scatter it to the four winds of I heaven. The world' is ignorant of us, but j not much more so than we are of ourselves.: There are magnificent resources in South Carolina of which our own people know nothing. Each man thinks huf. neighborhood the best, each is satisfied his county is the desirable one, and sum it all up"not one man to a township over the State is thoroughly conversant! or familiar with the entire State. Then, how | can we expect outsiders to know anything of j us or our State? "I'll shoot you in a minute," is an epitome of our individual oifcracter abroad. "I'd break this Union to pieces," Ts the State's epitomized character also. And unless the State, as a State, through her Legislature takeB steps to place herself in a less unenviable position before the world, individuals may give up in despair, for their efforts will avail nothing. Had we an immigration and Agricultural Bureau to day, we might have thousands of copies of just such journals of information as we propose should be printed scattered among the visitors to the Paris Exhibition. We know there iB there on exhibition from South Carolina a block of granite and cotton stalks, but what else ? A few days since we were informed that a large cotton factory, recently built in the upper portion of our State, would increase its capacity, and at the same time declare a dividend. Not a manufactory in New England mil do as mucb. We were also told mac probably old Vaucluse would be rebuilt by the Graniteville Factory, without calling upoD the stockholders for a dollar. No manufactory in New England can think of such successful enterprise to-day. Would it not be good policy to have such information placarded all over Paris just at this time? While we write there is passing our window an immense procession, a mile long, of men composed of representatives of every conceivable trade, clamoring, not for bread, but for work. Are there not some in that great throng that woihd make good citizens, and would soon repay the State, even if at her expense they had to be taken and transported to the farms that would so munificently be donated to the State, in order that immigration might be a success? But a few days ago one hundred families of Germans arrived in New York who were known to have five hundred dollars in gold to the family in their possession. Would it not have been economy to the State to have had one agent in New York to say to those Germans we will transport you to South Carolina and give you fifty acres to the family, in order that those families might have been induced to invest that fifty thousand dollars in the faTfthlfl nrnnertv of the State? Verily, verily, it does ueera that we are losing our opportunity._ All .oyer the. North-. shrinkage of values has reduced the people to despair, desperation and extreme want. Today, we of the South are infinitely more independent and thriving than any Northern community, and yet we are laying idle, and not reapiug the harvest of immigrants that are continually flowing to our country. Foreigners go to our ministers abroad, to our consuls, and to all the attaches, and make inquiry as to our country. Think you, reader, that they ever hear anything of South Carolina? If we were only awake to the necessity of advertising our advantages, the State today would have in every office in the world, where there is a representative of our government, a volume, or map, or placard of some sort descriptive of our State, its resources, its advantages and its general inducements to colonists seeking new homes. But has such an effort at advertisement ever presented itself to one of our legislators? No, no, our legislation has been too much confined to local affairs. We have not stretched out and shaken hands with the world. We are strangers to our brethren, and unless we can spread out and familiarize the world with us, and ourselves with the world, we will be shrouded in Egyptian darkness for all time to come. Against such a course we have time and again entered our most urgent protest, but what does it avail ? Nothing, that we have been able as yet to see. Recently we had a conversation with a citizen of that far off State, Minnesota. This friend was a major general in the Confederate army, but beiug an experienced engineer he had gone into Minnesota immediately after the close of the war with aspirations, and bus succeeded. He commenced at the lowest round of the ladder, by chopping wood for a railroad, (what an example for many of our complaining citizens !) and before two years had elapsed his education and practical kuowledge pushed him to the front. To day , he is chief engineer of a division of the Northern Pacific Railroad. That man said to us : "Why doesn't your State advertise ?" He said . we have thousands annually pouring into Minnesota and settling upon lands as poor as any in South Carolina, but in a year or two they make a wonderful change in the looks of . things. Said he, these people never owned a ( foot of land in their lives, and when they come to this country and get possession of a few acres that they can call their own they are the happiest people on earth, make excellent . citizens, worship the United States flag, and 1 on all election occasions throw up their bats 1 and hurrah for Gen. Jackson or anybody ' else that is their candidate for office. Sir, ; said he, they support the State Government. There is the entire thing in a nutshell. 1 These foreigners make good citizens, and sup- ' port the State Government. Could we ask anything more of them ? Do we do any more 1 ourselves? Aud do we not all want more 1 citizens here to help ut do that thing? But ws have so oftea written upon this 9ub- 1 ject that we are almost in despair of effecting * much good. If the State could but see her- j self as we see her in comparison with other j less favored States of this Union, we feel that I our voice would not be so often raised in vain upon the subject of State aid to imrni- ! gration.?D. Wyatt Aiken, in Nexus and 1 Courier. 1 A Safe Roof During Thunder-Storms. 1 Professor Johu Wise, of Philadelphia, high < authorty, writes to the Richmond Dispatch < relative to the striking of the chimney of a < house in Richmond oy lightning, in which | Dr. Taylor lived, although the roof was cov- j ered with tin. As Prof. Wise has had a long 1 observation, and what he says is important i and instructive, we copy a part of bis letter. ; He says: I "A metal roof does not prevent the build- i ing from being struck by a thunderbolt; it 1 ouly saves the building and its contents from I injury by the bolt. The metal surface acts i as a correlative to the electrical force; a bolt \ striking a metal roof punches a hole through ] the metal never more than an inch and a i quarter in diameter, and it burns the under- 1 side by turning the burrs, scroll form, out- ! wards. Of a number examined by me, one i of them I presented to Professor Joseph ! Henry, of the Smithsonian Institute. The I bolt referred to struck the chimney first, and hence would not puncture the tin, but under microscopic examination you will find the tin singed. And if you will examine the mechanical effects of the bolt on the chimney you will find that the projectile came from the west or southwest, most likely. They all come from that direction in the northern temperate zone. I say without hesitation that a dwelling, or building, having a metal roof presenting a surface of 1,500 square feet, or more, is insufficiently protected from the destructive effects of thunderbolts. Solomon's temple, standing at a place very subject to thunderbolts of the heaviest kind, during all its time of standing, withstood the effects of lightning, because it was literally covered with metal, and of the finest kind. The finer the metal, the less it takes to compensate a thunderbolt." REVELATIONS OF A DISSECTING ROOM. A HORRIBLE STORY FROM ANN HARBOR. A letter from Ann Harbor, Michigan, dis/ilnoaa ?rvl Inwlnm /)ionnnai*ioa rr> o rlo blUOCD tuv ivuvniug Uvl IIUIO UlOvvT wl Ivu UiUUU in the medical college there, after the clue obtained by finding the dead body of Scott Harrison, in one of the lower rooms, preparatory to be taken up to the dissecting room: Col. Snelbaker arrived at Ann Harbor on the night of the 12th of June, in search of the body of young Devine, whose disappearance led to the discovery of the body of Scott Harrison. Gaining admission to the medical college, the janitor went to three large vats, full of dead bodies, floating in brine, and the inspection began. First, he hurled from their places huge rocks which had been placed above to weigh down and keep in place the bodies. Then, with bared arms, and an expression of fiendish satisfaction, he began reaching down into the vats in search of the bodies. As the weights were removed they floated to the surface, and were seen to be closely packed in tierces in the vats, like so many slaughtered hogs packed for market. First, next to the front, was the body of a young and handsome woman of about 28, with long, golden hair, matted and discolored by the filthy brine into which the body had been rudely thrown. The face was one of great beauty, and, though discolored by the process, still showed that it was the face of one who in life had known no want, and upon which the cares of life had left no traces. Alongside of it, naked, as was the first, lay the body of a large negro, in an advanced state of decomposition, the black skin, in large clots, slipping from its place, and revealing the discolored flesh. As the body floated to the surface with that of the woman, the short, kinky wool was falling from the head and floating in the water, mingled with the golden tresses of the woman at his side. Next in order, beyond, and pressing against tVin hndu nf ttio norrrn top a tViaf nf an r?1H man *..W ?w "-fc,- ? ? ? his feet encased iD rough, filthy, woolen socks, the body again naked, the eyes sunk deep in the sockets, the mouth open, and filled with the liquid in which it floated, the features distorted and discolored beyond recognition, and the shaggy, gray whiskers were loosening their hold and slipping from the face. As old Negley made a dive at the body, preparatory to hauling it out of the vat, aided by a stalwart student, whom he had pressed into the service, the old man prepared to remove the -bodies from the vat, in order that we might see, whether or not, those for whom we searched were there. Seizing the first roughly by the head and shoulders, his assistant grasping the feet, the body was lifted to the edge of the vat, and, without a word of caution or a show of tenderness, or even the consideration one would use toward a dead animal, it was tumbled rudely to the stone floor, the beautiful bead which had been pillowed on Borne manly boBom, striking hard upon the stone floor, the shapely limbs and well rounded form thrown prone upon the cellar, nun ann Dones, ana ine goiaen, strearaiDg hair, sodden with the filth of the vat, falling as a veil upon and over the body, hiding it and the face from its shame. He followed with another and another, until within a few minutes there lay upon the filthy stone floor, mingled with the bones and fragments of the apartment, a pile of about twenty ghastly corpse, of all sizes and colors, and all ages and conditious; the old, the young, the emaciated, the well-rounded figure, the ahapen and misshapen, black and white, pauper and honored citizen alike, in one promiscuous heap. For perhaps an hour longer this fiendish, sickening work went on, until the vats were emptied, and no less than forty naked corpses lay in heaps upon the floor, of all ages, sexes, and nationalities, thrown promiscuously together, without the least order or attempt at order, a sickening mass of human corruption. The skin slipping from the limbs and bodies where they had been roughly handled, the hair falling from the heads, or saturated with brine, drippiugits filth upon the bodies below. The dead, distorting meaningless faces looking out through the dim, ghastly lamplight in all forms and in all terrible positions of countenance on the fiends who were disporting with their sacred flesh. Then the work of inspection began. Col. Snelbaker carefully inspected all the bodies which bore resemblance to the dead for whom he sought, and succeeded, he thinks, in identifying several of them. Young Devine's body he has a very accurate description of, and has found one which so closely corresponds with it that there seems to be little doubt, from the description, that it is the one long sought for. HENDRICKS ON THE OLD-TIME MILLER. The Millers' National Convention was held in Indianapolis last week, and on Thursday the delegates went on an excursion. A welcoming speech was made to them by ex-GovHendricks, and, among other things, he said : 'As a boy I was acquainted with the miller, ind I thought him a great man. When he raised the gate with such composure and confidence, and the tumbling waters drove the machinery ahead, I admired his power. And ;hen be talked strongly upon all questions. He was very positive upon politics, religion, law, and mechanics, and any one bold enough to dispute a point was very likely to have a personal argument thrown into his face, for iie knew all gossip among his customers. [Laughter.] He was cheerful. 1 thought it was because he was always in the music of ihe running water and the whirling wheels. He was kind and clever?indeed, so much so Lhat he would promise the grists before they jould be ready, [laughter,] and so the boys bad to go two or three times. He was a jhancellor, and prescribed the law. Every }ne in his turn. The miller, standing in the door of his mill, all white with the dust, is a picture ever upon the memory of even this generation. It is a picture of a manly figure. [ wonder if you, gentlemen, the lords of many runs and bolts, are ashamed to own him as pour predecessor. It was a small mill, sometimes upon 'a willowy brook,' and sometimes upon the larger river, but it stood on the advance line of the settlement, with its one wheel to griud the Indian corn, and one for wheat, and in the fall and winter season one day in the week set apart for grinding buckwheat, [t did the work of the neighborhood. Plain and unpretentious, as compared with your stately structures, I would not say it contributed less toward the development of the country and the permanent establishment of society. So great a favor it was, and so important to the public welfare, that the authorities that day invoked in its favor the highest power of the State?eminent domain. That mill and miller had to go before you and yours, and i I am happy to revive the memory of the millj er at the custom mills, who, with equal care > adjusted the sack, upon the horse for the boy ; to ride upon, and his logic in support of his . theory in politics or his dogma, in religion." | J "A Pupil op Liszt."?The greatest of pi- , anists, Liszt, is very amiable and quite ec centric. The following story sets forth the ] genial side of his nature. A young pianist < was giving concerts through the provinces , ! of Germany for her support. To enhance j her reputation she deceitfully advertised her| self as a pupil of Liszt. ] In a little town, where she bad announced 1 ; a concert, she was confounded the day before < the concert was to take place, by seeing in 1 ; the list of arrivals, and at the very hotel where 1 1 the concert was to be given, "M. L'Abbe i j Liszt." ] Here was a dilemma. Her fraud would < be discovered. Tremblingly she sought the 1 presence of the great maestro. I Coming into the room with downcast eyes, j she knelt at the old man's feet, and with < many tears told her story?how she had been 1 left an orphan and poor, with only one gift of i music with which to suDnort herself; the dif- J Acuities she had encountered, until the fraudulent use of his great name had filled her purse. "Well, well," said the great man, gently raising her up, "let us see, my child, what we can do. Perhaps it is not so bad as you thought. There is a piano; let me hear one of the pieces you expect to play to-morrow evening." Tremblingly she obeyed, the maestro making comments and suggestions as she played, and when she had finished, he added, "Now my child, I have given you a lesson ; you are a pupil of Liszt." Before she could find words to express her gratitude, Liszt asked, "Are your programmes printed ?" "No, sir," was the answer, "not yet." "Then say that you will be assisted by your master, and that the last piece on the programme will be played by the Abbe Liszt." That concert, it may be readily believed, was a great success. The Drunkard's Baby.?The Richmond Advocate tells a touching story of a little girl, just three years old, and endowed with unusual sprightliness and loveliness, both of person and disposition, who had been so terrified by the drunkenness of her father that she cried out to a friend who was taking leave of her mother: "0, please take me home with you, and hide me, so papa can't find me." What a world of woe is contained in the plaint of this poor babe? And what tragedy in home life it reveals. The most loving thing in all the world, the most trusting, the most confiding; and the most innocent in its helplessness, is made to turn in agony of apprehension from the one on whose bosom she should naturally rest in perfect trustfulness, sure of his protecting love. Rum had converted him into an object of fear, almost of aversion. 0, Rum ! who can tell the pitiful scenes for which thou art responsible?the love thou hast quenched, the hopes thou hast wrecked, the hearts thou hast broken, the homes thou 1 hast desolated, life graWs" thou hast dugT " rni 1 f* ?I I I 1 1 1 | !? _!i iniUK or inese oacy nanus raiseu in pueuuts appeal, fathers who are drunkards, and they must strike like a rod of iron on your hearts. 1 Think of these quivering baby lips and overflowing baby eyes, ye who sell that which makes drunken fathers and causes all this woe, and be warned, lest, in the last greAt day, many women and little children shall say to you, "We owe the untold wretchedness and agony of our lives to you; our blood be upon your skirts." The Yosemite Valley.?The Yosemite is situated in the heart of the Sierra Nevada, about 155 miles in a direct line east of Sao Francisco. The valley is a nearly level area, about six miles in length and from a half a mile to a mile in width, sunk almost a mile in perpendicular depth below the general level of the adjacent region. Through the centre of this valley runs the Merced river, passing for twenty miles, atter leaving tne valley proper, through a grand caflon, the scenery here almost equalling this wonderful valley. Because this cafion is approached by only a narrow trail, but very few tourists travel the full length of the river to view the cascades and lofty water falls of this wonderful region. From time immemorial, the YoSemite Valley had been regarded by the Indian tribes living on both the eastern and western slopes of the Sierras as a stronghold, or place of refuge in time of trouble. In 1850, the white settlers who lived on the streams which head in this region, finding themselves unable to remain in peace with these Indians, organized for their protection a military company, and in 1851 pursued a party of the savages that bad been committing depredations, into the Yosemite, where they bad taken refuge. From that date until the present time, the valley has been resorted to yearly by hunters and pleasure seekers from all parts of the world. Prior to 1864 there was only one actual settler in the valley. Now it teems with life, and three or four hotels roomy enough to accommodate comfortably one hundred guests, have been completed and furnished with every comfort required by the most exacting tourist.?Boston Post. The Death of a Generation.?A writer in an English magazine studies from birth to death, the march of an English generation through life, basing his remarks on the annual report of the register general. The author singles out, in imagination, a generation of 1,000,000 souls, and finds that of these more than one-fourth die before they reach five years of age. During the next five years ? the deaths number less than one-seventh of those in the first quinquenium. From ten to fifteen, the average mortality is lower than at s any other period. From fifteen to twenty, fc deaths increase again, especially among wo- s men. At this period the influence of danger- a ous occupations begins to be seen in the death- t rate. t Fully eight times as many men as women f die violent deaths. The number of suoh a deaths continues to rise from twenty to twen- u ty-nve, ana keeps nign lor at least twenty 11 years. Consumption is prevalent and fatal I from twenty to forty-five, and is responsible 1: for nearly half the deaths. From thirty-five t to forty-five the effects of wear and tear begin t to appear, and many persons succumb to dis- a eases of the important internal organs. By t fifty-five the imagined million has dwindled n down to less than one-half, or to 421,115. t After this, the death-rate increases more rap- o idly. At seventy-five there remains 161,124, v and at eighty-five, 38,565. Only 202 reach ? the age of one hundred. At fifty-three the s number of men and women surviving is about d equal, but from fifty-five onward the women a exceed the men?Popular Science Monthly. A Lesson for All.?Look most to your a spending. No matter what comes in, if more d goes out you will always be poor. The art is p not in making money, but in keeping it; little ii expenses, like mice in a large barn, when they f are many, make great waste. Hair by hair n heads get bald ; straw by straw the thatch t goes off the cottage, and drop by drop the a rain comes into the chamber. A barrel is t soon empty if the tap leaks but a drop a min- ii ute; when you mean to save, begin with your c mouth; many things pass down the red lane. In all other things keep within compass. Never stretch your legs farther than the blankets will stretch, or you will soon be cold. In clothes, choose suitable and lasting stuff, and not tawdry fineries. To be warm is the main thing, never mind the looks. A fool may make money, but it needs a wise man to spend it. Remember, it is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one going. If you give all to back and board, there is nothing left for the savings bank. Fare hard and work while you are young, and you will have a chance to rest when you are old. Lying for the Whetstone.?The old proverbial expression, "to win the whetstone," was applied by our ancestors to describe preeminence in lying. A notorious liar was often suddenly presented with a whetstone as a bint that if he persisted in whoelsale exageration bis wits would require sharpening. From this custom arose another that prevail 3d id JUDgiana on nouaays. mere was a jocular competition who could spin most outrageous yarns?a whetstone being the prize adudged to the winner. AtCoggleshall, in Essex, on a certain holiday, Bishop Porteus, who was passing through the town, observed i crowd in the streets. He inquired the cause, ind was told that it was the day when they gave the whetstone for the biggest liar. The good Bishop felt shocked, and on arriving at ;he scene of the contest, delivered an eloquent larangue upon the sinfulness of the practice. To his great surprise, as hs concluded by laying, "I never told a lie in my life," the ihief umpire, after briefly conferring with lis fellows, approached the carriage and exslaimed, "My lord, we unanimously adjuge rou the prize," thrust the whetstone into the ;arriage window. The Bishop, at first anloyed by such a questionable distinction, aferwards entered into the spirit of the joke, ind long after used to tell the story to his visitors and show the whetstone, carefully ireserved on the mantelpiece of his diningoom at Fulham.?Newcastle {Eng.) Cou ant. Tact.?Tact literally means touch; it is hat quality by which one "feels" his way. [t is something more than skill?something nore than judgment?it is spontaneous coranon sense. It is that power by which one tnows bow to do the right thing in absence if precedents and rules. It delights in emergencies and glories in exceptional cases. It arrives at the conclusion too quickly for analylis of the steps that lead to it, and you recogiize it only when it has accomplished its ob ect, as a ballet which is seen only when it bits the target, not in its passage through the air. Syllogisms are useless and "similar" cases ignored. Tact is to talent what genias is to knowledge, the one forges and shapes what the other gathers. Taot creates, talent accumulates. Tact invents, talent discovers. Talent knows what to do, tact knows how to 3o it. Talent is wealth, tact is ready money. The one is momentary, intentional, the other is long and laborious. Tact presupposes quick perception, lively sympathy, versatility and ready adaptability to circumstances. It can be cultivated, but is largely a native quality. When cultivated it is apt to become cunning, craftiness, manipulation, and degenerates into insincerity. It will never d) to lose the innocence of the dove in the wisdom of the serpent. Tact is always truthful, legitimate afxl honest. It studies opportunities, and has a keen sense of the eternal fitness of things. Tact adapts itself to the occasion, to the persons with whom it deals. ? A Mystery of the Mind.?The Louisville Medical Neva says: "The following psychological incident, which was told to me by a gentleman of undoubted veracity, may prove of interest to those of your readers who are studying occult phases of nervous phenomena. The nkrrator, a man of fine nervous organization, was taking his afternoon siesta; his daughter, a young lady of seventeen, sitting by his side, with her hand in his, and reading. As he passed from the wakeful state into one of semi-slumber, he saw, or seemed to see, appear at the foot of his bed a tall man, with a sorrowful expression upon bis face, who, bending down tenderly, lifted up a coffin and disappeared. He was so disturbed by the strange and unaccountable nature of his vision that, after tossing restlessly fVav* o fnro mnmanta tin nnano^ his ftnH U UW ~J laid, "Daughter, I believe I cannot sleep toiay, and will get up." Looking up from her book, in which she was evidently deepley abiorbed, she said, "Papa, this is a strange 500k that I am reading." "What is it?" laid he. "The 'Life of Marie Antoinette.'" the replied, and then read from the pages before her a recital of the exact incident that lad just constituted bis dream. ? Power of the Waves.?Those who have lever lived on the stormy coast, nor been to lea, can form an adequate idea of the effect hat can be produced by the impact of a suc:ession of waves, or of a single wave. What ias happened at Wick, on the extreme northirn coast of Scotland, where a breakwater ias been building for some years past, may pve an idea of what is meant by wave-power, .t was found that stones of ten tons weight vere as pebbles to the waves, which have been neasured to be forty-two feet from creat o the bottom of the trough. The outer eud >f the breakwater, where the storms beat nost violently, was built of three courses of me hundred ton stones laid on the rubble bundations; next above these were three lourses of large, flat stones, and upon these a nass of concrete built on the spot of cement md rubble. The end of the breakwater pas thought to be as immovable as the natual rock; yet the resident engineer saw it slowy yield to the force of the waves and swing lowly around into the less-troubled water inide the pier. It gave way not in fragments, >ut in one mass, as if it was a monolith. The lisplaced mass is estimated to weigh about 1,150 tons. 4 Hints about Water.?No water that has tood in open vessels during the night should >e used for drinking or cooking. By expoure to the air it has lost its saration, and has .bsorbed many of the dust-germs floating in he apartment. If convenience requires waer to be kept in vessels for several hours beore use, it should be covered, unless the vessels ,re tight. Wherever practicable, all distribiting reservoirs should be covered. Filter g always adds to the purity of water. Drinking water should not be taken from akes or rivers on a low level. Surface waer in lakes, pools, or rivers, which receive he surface wash, should be avoided as much s possible. Do not drink much water at a ime. More than two tumblers full should iot be taken at a meal. Do not drink be ween meals unless to quench thirst, as excess f water weakens the gastric juice and overworks the kidneys. Excessive potations, whether of water or other fluid, relax the tomach and impair its movements. By Irinking a little at a time the injury is .voided. ? ? -? W&F Persons who practice deceit and artifice, lways deceive themselves more than they leceive ethers- They may feel great comilacency in view of the success of their doogs; but they are in reality casting a mist beDre their own eyes. Such persons not only aake a false estimate of their own characer, but they estimate falsely the opinions nd conduct of others. No person is obliged o tell all he thinks; but both duty and selfoterest forbid him ever to make false pretense.