Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor.! Jittoptitbtni Jfsmilg ftetospptr: Jfor tjjt $rijmotion fff f|t |joIittcal, Strcial, ^gricnltaral anb Commercial Interests of tjje jS?ontji. TERMS?$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 24. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 24=, 1878. NO. 4=3. Jfclfrtei ? wttg. I'VE BEEN THINKING. I've been thinking, I've been thinking What a glorious world were this, Did folks mind their business more And mind their neighbors' less; For instance, you anal, my friend, Are sadly prone to talk Of matters that concern us not, And others' follies mock. I've been thinking, if we begin To mend our own affairs, That possibly our neighbors might Contrive to manage theirs. We've faults enough at home to mend? It may be so of others; It would seem strange if it were not, Since all mankind are brothers. Oh! would that we bad charity For every man and woman 1 Forgiveness is the mark of those Who know "toerr is human"; Then let us banish jealousy? I.et's lift our fallen brother: And, as we journey down life's road, Do good to one another. Mlct. STRANGE DELIVERANCE ? \>jj A WILI) AMERICAN TALE. "Rendezvous at Struggle Ford, eleven P. M., sharp. Thirty rounds. "By order, "Captain Border Regulators." These were wild limes on the Texan frontier. No home was safe from scenes of rapine and pillage; no man, or child secure from violent death, or a fate even worse. Oat of this condition of things and the lethargy of our government authorities in obeying our urgent pleas for military assistance, the independent organization, known as the Border Regulators, was born. We were a stout, resolute body of men, made desperate by desperate wrongs, and caring little for the dangers we encountered, so long as we wreaked vengeance on the bands of Mexican robbers and murderers who infested our borders. So every one of the fifty forming our secret company knew, on receipt of this laconic order, that work was awaiting us, for we had.received many similar ones before, and many a brave fellow who went out with us, never returned. Our Captain explained, briefly, the motive for his call. A spy bad brought intelligence that a strong body of ferocious bandits were congregating on the Mexican bank of the Rio Grande, at a point at about an hour's march distant, preparatory to a raw on our people. , It was enough for us to learn that they were under the leadership of the cut-throat Cuchora, upon whose hands was the blood of a hundred women and children of our Texan homes, to secure an unanimous demand to be led to their camp. Ferrying the river, we made a stealthy march through the rank, tangled grass and brush. The guerrillas were all asleep except a few guards, whom we surprised, and followed in so closely that tbey did not succeed in arousing the camp until we were charging back and forth, through it, dealing death and destruction in our way. The rout was complete, the guerrillas flying in all directions, with scarce an attempt at resistance, though, greatly to our surprise, they were four times the number of our little company. Tftf five minutes after our first attack, we were separated into squads of five or teu men each, all engaged in a frantic rush, in different directions, after the several wings of the fleeing robber force. I never realized just how it happened, but in the rage of this wild pursuit, I suddenly became conscious that I was alone in my chase after a force of twenty or thirty fleeing guerrillas. My foes seemed to discover this fact at the same moment, and suddenly the order of pursuit was changed?I fleeiug and the guerrillas in chase. Shots hurtled after me. thick and fast, but I would, probably, have.escaped uuharmed, had I not run into the arms of another body of the flying guerrillas. Id a trice I was set upon, disarmed and bound ; in another breath I should have been made a target for a score or more of bullets, had not a breathless, brawny cut-throat, whom I recognized as the dreaded Cuchora, himself, interfered. "Ten thousand curses on him 1" he hissed. "Killing is too merciful to him. Have I not vowed to aJein alive every accursed Regulator who falls into my hands ? Drag him away to the Salito stockade, and let him meet his fate before us all, an hour after daylight. All but five of you follow me to our new rendez vous at La Posa." An hour's terrible tramp with the five ruffians, left as a guard over me, brought us to Salito, a miserable little Mexican hamlet, whose inhabitants, awakened by our entry, crowded to their doors and horridly reviled me, or rejoiced over the terrible fate awaiting me, as revealed by my boastful guards. I felt relieved when thrown into a cold, damp, noisome room, half underground, and strongly grated with iron bars over the siDgle aperture, Dear the ceiling. I could hear my guards, squatted outside this aperture, holding a desultory conversation during the first fifteen or twenty minutes of my incarceration ; and at last coming to the conclusion that one of them was sufficient to stand guard over me, they agreed that they would take turns at this task ; the remaining four, when off duty, seeking shelter and amusement in a neighboring house, whose master possessed a supply of rauscalie, and { was Dot averse to joining his guests in fre- j queot libations, and a game at cards as well. After they had gone, my remaining guard ! found it very prosy work, keeping watch over i so taciturn a prisoner as myself and took fre- j quent strolls to the retreat of his companions, | lingering there longingly. What mattered it to me, this neglect of my j guards ? My fate was sealed?a terrible fate, surely. I knew how idle it was to hope for , mercy from the demon, Cuchora, and I also 1 knew that I would only waste my strength in I purposeless effort, and raise stronger yearning j for life, in any attempt to escape from this ; strong dungeon. 1 was not regardless ot the value ot lite. I could not face my fate without a shiver. I was not brave enough to look unflinchingly ' towards the coming of the morning light, but | in all my yearning for life, in all my terror i of my coming fate, I was not fool enough to j hope against all conviction and against the : strength of these prison walls and prison > bars. Suddenly, while in this mood of mingled j despair aud resignation, a low "hist" sounded just outside the grated window. I stopped | abruptly in my excited pacing up and down j the apartment. "Senor Americano, are you unhurt ?" a so ft voice, seeming to tremble with emotion, asked. "Yes. What wish you?" I asked, suspiciously. "Be quiet," the voice answered hurriedly. "The guard is drinking with his comrades, and if yon are cautious you may escape." Was this treachery?some trap set by my guards to torture me by some unexpected ; method? I hesitated. Who was this myste: rious friend ? ' Clutching the ledge of the grated opening, I I drew myself up to a level with it, and peered out, dropping back with an exclamation of amazement. It was a female figure I beheld, dressed in sombre robes, and closely veiled, but, nevertheless, a delicate, slight figure. While I gasped and puzzled over this discovery, she, with nervous haste, was busied, by means of a short lever, in prizing off the | clamps that secured the iron bars of the aperj ture. After a few minutes of this silent ex; ertion, she passed the lever through the grating. "You have only to insert this between the bars, and prize carefully towards you," she said ; "they will drop out." With all the wild energy of a new born hope of liberty, I clutched the weapon and placed it in position ; but ere I could throw my weight on it, I heard a sharp cry from the woman. "Beware!" And she fled, but where I knew not; but intuitively I threw down the bar, and lay full length on the floor, personating sleep. I i had near re done so when the ringing steD of the guard sounded outside. A cold perspiration oozed out of every pore of my body as I listened for the death cry of my unknown female friend. But all remained silent outside. Had she really escaped detectiou ? It seemed impossible.'"After a few minutes, the guard came and peered suspiciously into my dungeon; and then, as if satisfied, walked away, muttering, "It is very strange I I could have sworn I saw a dark object here, moving about in the shadow of the wall; I was positive I heard voices. My fears have been playing a trick upon me." The minutes, that seemed ages of agony and despair to me, passed, and the guard lingered near my dungeon with no apparent intention of returning again to his companions. I bad just given myself up as lost, when there was a call from one of bis comrades; and, half hesitating, yet unable to withstand the temptation, he went to join him, casting several glances back. But once within the apartment where his comrades gambled and drank, his fears seemed to vanish aud his duties were forgotten. Scarce was he concealed from view, before my unknown friend was again at the barred window. "Hurry, as you value liberty 1" she cried, pleadingly. "The guard may return at any moment!" With the strength of a Hercules, I wrenched out the iron grating, and then, by a mighty effort on my own part and by the exertions of the tender hands of my preserver, I managed to struggle through the narrow aperture. Free again, and standing face to face with my deliverer, I began to pour out a flood of gratitude to her; but, beckoning me to be quiet and grasping ray hand, she hurried me into the shadow of the building, and then stealthily, from bouse to house and through narrow lanes until, unperceived, we had got a half a dozen blocks away from the prison. Halting me in an orange grove, she pointed to a rather uninviting-looking mustang, saying, "He is the only animal I could capture without arousing suspicion. Mount him and hasten away, but ride cautiously knnnn/l kanwiiti* nf fkn ttilloA f fko uulii 1 UUJUUU u^oiiug l/i biiD Viuagv/I ixv mv forks, take the trail od your left, and you will be safe. The other leads to Cuchora's camp." "But you ?" I protested. "I am in no danger," she answered, quickly. "I beg you to go at once; the guards may discover your eccape." ___ Seizing her hands, and pressing them again to my lips, I exclaimed, "I will not leave until I learn to whom I am indebted for my liberty." Something in my tone convinced her I was in earnest, and after a short struggle, she said, questioningly, "Do you remember almost a year ago bravely rescuing a lady and her maid from the grasp of several ruffians in a lonely street of Matamoras?" "Ah 1" I exclaimed, sadly, "I have good j reason to remember the circumstance. A hundred times since, I have walked the streets of Matamoras, in vain search for that lady's enchanting face." I noticed that she hastily dropped her* eyes to the ground, and trembled violently as she replied almost inaudibly, "I recognized you from ray window as you passed through the village a prisoner." This was the lovely creature whom I had sought so long! I realized it all now, and attempted to clasp her in my arms. She avoided me, and kept beyond my reach, still pleading that I should mount and hasten away. "Oh ! senorita, you are cruel," I exclaimed. "Give me your name, if nothing else, that I may worship it. I will not go until J know it!" "And will you go then?" "Yes; but I will not promise never to seek you again." She still hesitated ; but at last said: "I am called Anita de Vega." And she fled ; but my words followed her. "The lovely owner of that name I will find again, though I search all Mexico over !" Springing on the back of the mustang, I made my way slowly out of the village. I had scarcely done so when the sound of confusion, and excitement, and of hurrying feet came to me; and then, mingled with these, a woman's shrill scream. I could have sworn it was my Anita de Vega who uttered that scream. All the blood in my veins froze in horror at the alarming sound. 1 turned my mustang to dash back into the village and liberate her, or die with her; but the hoof-beats of a score of horses, following in my trail, aroused me to the folly of ibis purpose, and, striking spurs into my animal, I was soon flying along the trail at a maddening speed. The mustang that I had looked upon so dubiously, was very swift, and I found no trouble in distancing my pursuers. But the ride was one of keenest agony to me. My only desire was to reach the Texan side, recruit a number of daring spirits, and hasten back to rescue the brave woman who, at the risk of her own life, had preserved mine, or fall in the attempt. While speeding along, engaged in this thought, I suddenly dashed into the camp of my own company, the Border Regulators. I was received as one risen from the dead. But I could say nothing, do nothing, except briefly to relate the means of my escape, and the supposed capture of ray preserver. Every man of the company volunteered to accompany me to her rescue, and they were only more wild logo when I explained my belief that we would find Cuchora and all his band of cut-throats assembled in the village of Salito. It was as I expected. An hour after daylight we charged into the village, surprising Cuchora and his men while at breakfast. TKpu had newer dreamed of another visit from us, and their rout was complete ; more than half of their number falling in the bloody conflict. In the prison from which I had escaped, I fuund Anita de Vega, cruelly bound and condemned to death. The guard had discovered her scarf lying at the broken grating through which I had escaped. This proved her complicity in my escape, and had the Regulators been a half-hour later in reaching the village, would only have found her murdered body there. Anita de Vega accompanied the Regulators on their return to the Texan side. It needed no very deep observer to discern, from my pleading glances toward her, and her blushing ones stolen in return, that there was a clear case of love among the Regulators, and that it was reciprocated. Her father, a wealthy, substantial citizen of Matamoras, was notified of her whereabouts. He came over to load me down with protestations of gratitude, and to prove his sincerity by bestowing on me the hand of his lovely and accomplished daughter. It is worth running the risk of being skinned alive, to secure a 1 wife as lovely and lovingly as my Anita.. A CLOSE SHOT. Where the Kentucky river cuts its way through the mountains, having upon either bank bold rugged cliffs that lift their summits five hundred and a thousand feet, as the case may be, above the stream, there lived, in early times, a settler by the name of Rufus Branson, who, with bis wife and only child, a charming little girl of some eight or nine years, occupied a rude cabin at the base of a precipice a little back from the river. * 1 - - J *.1. - Altdougn greatly expoBea to uaDger?iuo Indians at that time beiDg plentiful throughout the region?he managed to live quietly for several years. The Indians frequently visited the home of the rude hunter, and being always welcome and provided with such food as might he in the larder, they maintained a very friendly attitude. Especially were they fond of the child, Maggie, and more than one fierce warrior had been sitting on the grass in front of the cabin, listening to the childish prattle of the little one, or else engaged in making it some toy or plaything from twigs or bark. In this manner several years had been passed, and Rufus Branson came to feel as secure as though he was within the walls of a frontier fort. One evening Branson and his wife were seated near the door-way when suddenly a shadow fell across the threshold, and the next moment, a tall savage, whose reeling and bloodshot eyes, told that he was intoxicated, appeared, staggered to the log steps and threw himself upon them. His first demands were for 'fire-water,' which were, of course, refused on the plea that there was none in the house. The Indian became cross and ugly, swearing, with terrible oaths, that if the liquor was not produced, he would murder the housebold. Bratiton was a brave man, and although he dteaded the necessity, yet he saw that he would be compelled to take prompt steps to prevent the savage from executing his threats. Waiting until the warrior had made a demonstration?which he soon did by attempting to draw his tomahawk, Branson sprang upon him, knocked him down with a blow of his fist, and then disarmed him and bound him where he lay. After a few minutes of futile efforts to free himself, the savage rolled over and Bunk into a drunken slumber. He did not awake until next morning, but before he did so, the settler had quietly re moved his bands, and restored the weapons, which he laid by the sleeper's side. The savage, on waking, roBe slowly to his feet, felt bis wrists, as though the thongs bad left a feeling there, took up his weapons, and without speaking a word, left, disappearing iu the timber that stood near by. "What do you think of that?" asked the wife, turning to the husband with a scared look. "Pshaw I Don't trouble yourself about the dnrpken brute," answered the settler, lightly but as he turned away, and stepped into the yard, he muttered: "Like it! Well not much. The fellow must be watched. I was in hopes he would not have remembered ; but that lump, where my fist landed, was enough, if nothiug else, to recall the circumstance." The summer passed ; they saw the drunken guest no more. He failed to make his appearance. But as the leaves began to fall, the settler, one day, while returning from hunting on the hills, and passing through a dense piece of timber, caught sight of a fig ure lurking in the bushes, but which quickly disappeared when he advanced towards where it was. The figure was that of an Indian warrior, andRufe Branson would have sworn that it was the Indian whom he had knocked down and bound the previous summer. The knowledge was not in any way comforting, ^i/l tint t nl I Uio r*i I Tn n f tkn rl iicuto lie UIU UUt tell 1IIO TV 11G l/l tuc uiotuv ery. It would have alarmed her without, perhaps, any good result. He merely told her be had discovered bear tracks near by, and she and the child must stay within or close to the house when he was absent. Several days afterward, Rufe Branson heard his dogs in the timber, down by the river, and, knowing that they never opened without good cause, he caught up his rifle and hastened to where they were barking. They had struck a fresh bear trail, aud as he arrived in sight they fairly lifted it, going on in a straight line dowu the river. The chase had led him several miles, and when at last he got his shot, that finished Bruin's career, he found that it was three or four o'clock in the afternoon. Swinging his game to a sapling, out of reach of cat or wolf, he started for home to get the old gray mare and return and fetch it that night. Taking a cut he approached the cabin from the Western side, where the timber grew heavy up to within a few rods of the building, and, consequently, he could not see the clearing, or what might be transpiring there, until he bad passed through the wood. Thus it was that when within but a very short distance from his home, he heard a wild, piercing shriek ; he could guess that something terrible must be taking place beyond the screen of bushes and leaves. Uttering a loud shout, that his presence might sooner be made known, Branson sprang forward with the leaps of a wounded buck, a great fear at his heart, but he had only too clearly recognized in that scream, the agonized voice of his wife. It took but a moment for him to near the intervening timber and undergrowth, and, as he dashed out into the clearing, holding his rifle ready for instant use, he comprehended in one swift glance, all that had taken place and what was further. Near the end of the cabin, facing the cliffs nf which I have snoken. stood the mother. I her face as white as the dead, her arms outj stretched, and her staring eyes fixed upon the i precipitous height up which the form of an | Indian warrior was struggling. "My child ! my child !" was all the woman i said, and then Ruf'us Branson saw that the j bundle borne in the Indian's arms was the ! form of their only child, little Maggie. Firm of heart, and with nerves as steady | as the rocks around, the father, for a moment, | actually quailed and cowered under what his quick sense told him was the deadly peril of ' his little one. j But he was quick to recover. The Indian was drawing away; step by ! step he was increasing the distance, and as he j occasionally glanced backward, the parents ' saw in his hideously painted countenance, the i fell purpose that actuated the abduction. "God and me!" Branson muttered as he j raised his rifle, glanced through the sights, | and touched the trigger. The Indian started, violently, at the shot. He was hit, but not badly hurt, and with a yell of devilish triumph, he pnssed upward. "Too low by a couple of inches," said a low,; calm voice, at the settler's elbow. I Branson started as though he himself had j ! been shot. I Where has that man come from ? Who is he? Neither had seen him approach. But there was no time for explanation. The stranger, a man rather below thau above the ordinary height, whose fine, athletic form was fully displayed by his closely-fitting buckskin garments, steppecr forward a few paces, and grimly planting his left foot in advance, threw up an unusually long rifle as though preparing to fire. "For God's sake, stranger, be careful of my child !" cried Branson, while the agonized mother muttered an inaudible prayer. "It's our only chance. I know that Indian," was the quick reply, and the sharp click of the hammer, as it was drawn back, told that the critical moment had come. By this time the Indian had nearly reached the summit of the steep. That he was wounded now became evident, as upon a broad ledge of rock he rested a moment. The opportunity was seized by the un known. Although the savage had taken the precaution to hold the child in front of himself as a shield, covering nearly the whole of his brawny chest, but leaving his head uncovered, the stranger did not hesitate to make the shot. For one second, as it gained its position, the rifle waved, and instantly became as immovable as though held by B vice. With clasped hands and straining eyes, the parents watched the statue-like form upon whose skill so much depended. Suddenly a sharp report rang out, the white smoke drifted away, and, as the vision became clear, they saw the savage loose his hold upon the child, reel wildly for an instant, and then pitch forward upon the rocks. It may be imagined that the father was not long in reaching the place where the child lay, and in a few moments more the little one was in its mother's arms. "Tell us who you are Ikat we may know what name to mingle with our prayers," said the mother, as tbe stranger prepared to depart. "My name is Daniel Boone," he said?and was gone. fpsttUattMus fUadittg. BEAUTIFUL SNOW. The Omaha Republican gives the following history of the origin of this production, which ! the London Spectator has pronounced the finest poem ever written in America: "The early part of the war, one dark Saturday night in the dead of winter, there died in the Commercial Hospital in Cincinnati, a young woman over whose head only two and twenty summers had passed. She had been once possessed of an enviable share of beauty, and had been, as she herself says, "flattered and soucrht for the charms of the face;" but alas! upon her fair brow had long been written that terrible word?prostitute ! Once the pride of respectable parentage, her first wrong step was the small beginning of the "same old story over again," which has been the only life history of thousands. Highly educated and accomplished in manners, she might have shone in the best of society. But the evil hour that proved her ruin was the door from childhood, and having spent a young life in disgrace and shame, the poor friendless one died the melancholy death of a broken hearted outcast Among her personal effects was found, in manuscript, "The Beautiful Snow," which was immediately carried to Enos B. Reed, a gentleman of culture and literary taste, who was at that time editor of the National Union. In the column" nft-haf, paper^nn the morning, of the day following the girl's death, the poem appeared in print for the first time. When the paper containing the poem came out on Sunday morning, the body of the victim had not yet received burial. The attention of Thomas Buchanan Reed, one of the first American poets, was s:>on directed to the newly published lines, who was so taken with their stirring pathos, that he immediately followed the corpse to its final resting place. THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW. Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and the earth below; Over the house tops, over the street, Over the heads of the people you meet, Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along; Beautiful snow ! it can do nothing wrong; Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak ; Beautiful snow from the heavens above, Pore as an angel, gentle as love! Oh! the snow, (he beatiful snow, How the flakes gather and laugh as they go Whirling about in their inadening fun; It plays in its glee with every oneChasing, Laughing, Hurrying by, It lights on the face, and it sparkles the eye, And the dogs, with a bark and a bound, Snap at the crystals that eddy around? The town is alive and its heart in a glow, To welcome the coming of beautiful snow. How widely the crowd goes swaying along, Hailing each other with humor and song! How the gay sledges like metors flash by Bright for a moment, then lost to the eye! Ringing, Swinging, Dashing they go, Over the crust of the beautiful snowSnow so pure when it falls from the sky, As to make one regretto see it lie, To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet, Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street Once I was as pure as the snow, but I fell; Fell like the snow-flakeii, from heaven to hell; Fell to be trampled as fil ;b in the street; Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat. Pleading, Cursing, Dreading to die; Selling my soul to whoever would buy; Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread ; Merciful God ! Have I fallen so low? And yet I was once like the beautiful snow; Once I was fair as the beautiful snow, With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow; Once I was loved for my innocent graceFlattered and sought for the charms of my face. Father, Mother, Sister, and all, God and myself I have lost by my fall, The veriest wretch that goes shivering by, Will make a wide swoop lest I wander too nigh; For all that is on or above me, I know There's nothing as pure as the beautiful snow. How strange it sould be, that this beautiful snow Should fall on a sinner nowhere to go; How strange it should be when night comes again, If the snow and ice struck my desperate brain ! Fainting, Freezing, Dying alone; Too wicked for prayer, too weak lor a moan To be heard in the street of the crazy town, Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down ; To be and to die in my terrible woe, With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow. fi^The Pacific coast, within a few weeks past, has witnessed a succession of atrocious crimes. First came the murder instigated by the Public Administrator of Sacramento to get the victim's eslate into his hands; next three thieves entered a pawnbroker's shop in Portland, Oregon, in broad daylight, beating the pawnbroker nearly to death, and made off with money aud jewelry, killing a boy in their fiight; soon afterward a young man in San Fancisco attempted to kill a girl scarcely fourteen years old with whom he was in love; almost simultaneously a man in the same city, thinking he had accomplished the murder of his wife, set fire to his house and committed suicide ; finally,, an old resident of an interior county of California, after several days of gambling and dissipation, scattered strychnine over household provisions and in a water bucket, in the hope of poisoning his wife and son, killed his daughter of 20 years with a hatchet, and then blew out his own miserable brains with a pistol. To these acts are to be added the suicides of two prominent San Franciscans, one a former tax collector, and the other the president of the French Savings Bank. The papers have discovered that it is a genuine epidemic of crime. OIL AT SEA. PRACTICAL EFFECTS OF OIL ON TROUBLED WATERS. Although the effects of pouring oil upon the troubled waters scarcely enters into the mind of man beyond a figurative sentiment, there are a few modern instances of its wonder- i ful powers atsea in cases of impending shipwreck. Those few cases, however, which have found a faithful record, ought to arrest more deeply the public attention ; for if the efficacy of oil is of the nature which these accounts would lead us to accept, so simple a provision against the disasters of the ocean cannot be too extensively known. As far back as 1770, a Dutch East Indiaman was saved from wreck in a storm near the islands of Paul and Amsterdam by pouring on the sea a jar of olive oil. The writer of Wellerdehre states that a Mr. Ritchie, who accompanied a Danish captaiu to the island of Porto Santo (being tutor to his son), was standing on the shore during a hurricane, when he saw the vessel in which be arrived torn from her anchor and swallowed up. Suddenly, in the middle of the bay, appeared a boat driving towards shore. The waves, however, advanced with redoubled energy, without breaking, and tossed the boat so high on the strand that the men were able to jump out and scramble up the beach. The rescue was due to the captain, who, as the boat entered the breakers, stove in a keg of oil, which, though unable to lessen their height, prevented the waves from breaking, and caused them to run up the strand like rollers, carrying the boat with them. In 1867, a master stated in the New York Shipping List that he bad been at sea twentyeight years and master for ten years, and that he had saved the vessel under his command twice by oiling the sea. He says when a ship is disabled and cannot get out of a storm, and the master has to make the best of a gale, if he has oil on board he should start two or three gallons over the side, to windward: this will make smooth water. The oil allowed to drip slowly out is all that is required; the ship is in smooth, though heaving, water as long as the oil runs. In 1864, in the heaviest gale of wind he ever experienced, he lost all sails, and then the rudder followed; and he knew the vessel could cot have ridden the sea for an hour longer if he had not had Borne oil. Five gallons lasted fifty-six hours, and thus saved the vessel, cargo and lives. He recommends that ships of heavy tonnage should have two iron tanks of forty gallons each, one on one side, with the faucets so arranged that the oil can be started at any time into small vessels?say ten-gallon casks; and in all ships' boats, tanks of five gallons each well filled, so that in case the ship founders or burns, the boats will have oil to smooth the sea in a gale. With these tanks, and a good master who knows the law of storms and handles the ship so as to get out of the centre of it, the danger of foundering is greatly reduced. ^ n .A- r *1 - m? /~i _ t Anr\ v^api. JDtuis, oi me rviug oenric, ui i.iyu toD8, which lately arrived at Bombay from Liverpool with a cargo of coal, used commoD pine oil in a heavy gale of wind to prevent the sea breaking on board, and with perfect success. The gale continued for nearly five days and raged with determined fury. It had lasted some time, when the chief officer, Mr. Bowyer, bethought himself of a plan he had seen tried upon some occasions when in the Atlantic trade, to prevent the sea breaking in. He got out two canvas clothes bags ; into each he poured two gallons of oil. He punctured the bags slightly and bung one over each quarter, towing them along. The effect was magical. The waves no longer broke against the poop and sides of the ship; but yards and yards away, where the oil had slowly spread itself over the water. The crew were thus able to repair damages with greater ease; the ship was relieved from thuBe tremendous shocks received from the mass of water which had burst over her quarters and stern, and the danger was considerably lessened. ? ? THE LAST SNAKE STORY. In the town of Hague, on the banks of Lake George, opposite Hulett's Landing, N. Y., has lived, for a long time, a man and bis wife, by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Reuben Davis. This couple have occupied a log cabin, which has been situated near the water's edge. The place has beeu known as the "Rattlesnake man's house," and many visitors have made excursions to the spot to see this singular-looking couple. They have made a living from rattlesnakes, capturing many of the reptiles, and obtaining the oil, which always commands a high price. At this cabin might always have been seen large numbers of these reptiles. The old man, who is new about sixty-five years of age, catches them with a long pair of wooden tengs, which he quickly and dexterously grasps them with just below the head. He then either killed them outright or else removed their fangs, and thus rendered them harmless. He possessed power to charm them also, it is said. In fact, he once informed the writer, who visited his cabin, that "thar warn't a varmint that crawled but wot I ken make 'em lay down as quiet as a lamb." The old man had about his premises a large number of snakes, which he exhibited to visitors, expecting and receiving many a nickel or dime in return. He never visited a village without carrying several of his odious specimens with him, which he will draw from his pockets and place about his neck, or fondle and handle them as if they were kittens. By these exhibitions he picks up a good many coppers. Many wonderful stories are told about "old Rube" and his wife, the latter being as much of a curiosity as her husband. We have been told that the very shanty swarmed with rattlesnakes, the occupants not having any fears whatever of them. The land on which the shanty stood was lately purchased by Bishop Seymour, of Illinois, who succeeded Bishop McCoskry. The owner has tried repeatedly to get the Davis family to move off, but the old couple have refused until lately, when the bishop threatened to eject them by legal process. He finally offered Davis $10 to leave peaceably, and the old man, his wife and a boat load of snakes left one day for Harbor Island, about a mile south of where the cottage was situated. On the following Friday the torch was applied to the premises. When the fire begaD : to spread, a terrible sight met the eyes of those present. It was a sight that caused the beholders to flee up trees for safety. Hissing rattlesnakes and squealing rats poured out of j the building from all directions. As the hot flames sprang toward the roof, the crackling ! of the dry boards was mingled with the rattle of scores of maddened serpents, and unearthly yells of rodents. The very roof seemed to be alive with venomous reptiles, and the bright green and white of their outside covering shone with a glare as the flames lit upon them. One of the men who was a close eye-witness of the scene, says: ''One large snake, about seven feet long, opened its mouth, and out came at least two score of little reptiles, whose tails shook in the air as if they, too, were frenzied at the destruction the flames made of their home. Several snakes charged madly upon the flames, only to fall back burned to death; while the rats that could get away took to the woods. In one place a projecting log was made the object of attack by three large reptiles. As the trio charged madly upou it, a great sheet of fire, whose forked tongues were even more poisonous than those of the snakes, rolled around and seized the reptiles, causing them to cease rattling, as each one ! dropped over dead. About the ground lay many dead serpents and roasted rats, while i some were writhing and seemed to be in fearful agony."?Whitehall Timet. our national bird. THE CHANGE A WESTERN ORATOR DEEMS IMPERATIVELY NECESSARY. Hon. George W. Peck, in his Fourth of i July oration at LaCrosse, Wis., said : "It may have been noticed that thus far I have made no allusion to the American eagle, the national trade mark (patent applied for), but it is not that I do not apprehend the position that species of poultry occupies on these occasions. The poet, alluding to the eagle, says: " 'Bird of the broad and fleeting wing, Thy home is high in heaven.' "This is not true. He is a high old bird, and the committee that selected the eagle as a national emblem should have been arrested for disorderly conduct.. O, great bird 1 you live on mi-e; you soar aloft on pinions .airy until you see a poor little mouse with one leg broke, and then you swoop down like a ward constable and run him in. You are a nice old bird for a trade mark for a nation of heroes, you old coward. You sit on a rock and watch a peasant woman hanging out clothes. When she goes in the house to turn the clothes-wringer, you great bird?emblem of the land of the free and home of the brave; you swoop down on the plantation and crush your talons in the quivering flesh of the little baby, take him to your home high in heaven, and pick his innocent little eyes out. You bald-beaded old reprobate, you would turn your tail and run at the attack of a bantam rooster. 0, eagle, you look well on a dress parade, but you are a unanimous coward and you eat snakes. You are a fraud and you were counted in by a vote of eight to seven. "The bird that should have been selected as the emblem of our country, the bird of patience, forbearance, perseverance, and the bird of terror when aroused, is the mule. There is no bird that combines more virtues to the square foot than the mule. With the mule emblazoned on our banners we should be a terror to the foe. We are a nation of uncomplaining hard workers. We mean to do the fair thiDg by everybody. We plod along, doing as we would be done by. So does the mule. We as a nation are slow to anger. So is the mule. As a nation we occasionally stick our ears forward and fan flies off of our forehead. So does a mule. We allow parties to get on and ride as long as they behave themselves. So does a mule, fiut when any riAtion adoka snnra into our flanks and tickles our heels with a straw, we come down stifflegged in front, our ears look to the beautiful beyond, our voice is cut loose, and is still for war, and our subsequent end plays the snare drum on anything that gets in reach of us, and strikes terror in the heart of all tyrants. So does the mule. When the country gets older, and Congress has time ,to get in its work, the eagle will be superseded by the national trade mark, and in its place will rise the mule in all bis glory." HOW TO OBSERVE SUNDAY. The question of the proper observance of Sunday has been a much disputed one, and is one of much interest. A certain amount of religious services should of course form apart of each Sunday's life; should indeed be its central idea,"but it should not infringe upon the demands of overworked nature for rest. But what is rest? Clearly what would be rest to one would not be to another. What would increase vitality and strength to the day laborer, would make the weary student, book-keeper or editor more weary. The work of the six week days, whatever it is, should be put entirely out of sight from Saturday until Monday. Mental labor?reading, writing or other employment that requires mental effort. Physical laborers must cease physical labor, and can obtain the desired rest in mental improvement. Those whose week days are spent within the four walls of a store or an office, should be in the open air, in the broad fields, where they can breathe nature's purest serial draughts, as much as possible. Those who labor out of doors will find their greatest rest and enjoyment on Sunday in their homes. The business man and the banker should cease all thought of business, take a complete respite from all thoughts of "shop," and Sunday for all classes should be made as widely different from any other days in the week as possible. It should be made enjoyable, especially for the children, that they may grow up with the love of the day, instead of aversion for it, as is too common even in the best of Christian families. The observance of the day in each household should be made a study, that the most profitable and rest-giving enjoyments to suit each case may be found, and then let the observance of the day, once settled, be lived up to as strictly a business transaction. The day should have its distinctive features; religious culture; freedom from toil for servant as well as master ; rest in its true sense, and enjoyment of the higher order, which relaxes the nervous system, and is one of nature's great restoratives, all have their place, and none of them should be neglected.?Pittsburg Telegraph. Too Hot for Him.?As Confederate war reminiscences are the order of the day, here is one too good to lie buried. The hero of the joke we will call Jim. He was attached to Rosser's Cavalry, in Stuart's command. Jim was noted for his strong antipathy to shot and shell, and a peculiar way he had of avoiding too close a communion with the same, but at last all plans failed to keep him out of a "row," and he, with his comrades, under a lieutenant, was detailed to support a battery that composed a portion of the rear guard. The enemy kept pressing so close, in fact, as to endanger the retreating forces, and the troops covering the retreat had orders to keep the enemy in check, for a given period, at all hazards, and the order was obeyed to the letter, though under a galling fire. Our friend Jim grew desperate. He stuck behind trees that appeared to bis excited vision no larger than ram rods. He then tried lying down. In fact, he placed himself in every position that his genius could invent, but the "hiss" of the bullet hunted him still. At last, in despair, he called to his commanding officer: "Lieutenant, let's fall back ?" "I can not do it, Jim," replied the officer. "Well, I'll be drat if we don't get cleaned up if we stay here!" "My orders, Jim, are to hold this place and support that battery of guns," pointing to the artillery close by. "If we fall back, the enemy will rush in and capture the guns." Just at that time a well directed bullet impressed Jim with the fact that a i e i i T: j ! cnange or nase oecarae necessary, dim round another apparently protective spot, and, as he recovered his mind, he sang out: 'Oh! Lieutenant! what do you think them ere cannons cost?" "I don't know, Jim; I suppose 31,000." "Well," said Jim, "let's take up a collection and pay for the d?d guns, and let the Yankees have 'em."?Free Pre**. A railroad in Tennessee, which cost 38,000,000, was sold the other day by a receiver appointed to administer its affairs, for just enough to cover his own fees and legal expenses. The stockholders held a meeting the next day and wrote said official a sarcastic letter, thanking him for not bringing them into debt. The receiver replied cheerfully, begging them not to mention it, and saying he was sufficently rewarded in the consciousness of having done his duty. Story of Mazeppa.?In the church of St. Mary, Galatz, Roumania, is to be seen the tomb of Mazeppa, the famous hetman of the Cossacks, immortalized by Byron. His adventures, sung by the bard, were, in reality, much more common place than as we have learned to know them. Mazeppa was a young Cossack of the Ukraine, who having been ennobled by the Russians, declined to pay his taxes. For this, the local governor, Count Talboski, ordered him to be stripped naked by his servants and tied to the back of his own horse, with his head to the animal's tail. The horse was then flogged, pistols were discharged close to his ears, and after being thus excited, he was turned loose. The road leading to Mazeppa's house was a bridle-path through the woods, which were particularly fertile in thorn bushes, and wild pear trees, and the infuriated beast, accustomed to follow this route before, dashed off, as soon as he was at liberty, homeward, where his master arrived very much the worse for his journey. He had, however,-enough strength left to call for the gate-keeper, who recognized his voice and opened the door, to close it immediately, to keep out what he supposed to be Mazeppa's ghost. At last, other servants, recovering from their fear, came to his assistance, and put him to bed, where he remained for some months between life and.death from the injuries he had received. When he recovered he exiled himself, voluntarily, to Poland, and joining himself to the fortunes of Charles XII, was mortally wounded at Pultowa, and dying at Barnitza, bis body was brought to and buried at Galatz. Amusing the Baby.?It is a subject of marvel to most people that so many children die in infancy, but to an observing mind the wonder is that any children live to maturity. When you and I feel miserable, we want to be left in quiet. Repose is the sweetest remedy for nervousness or other ills ; but baby is trotted, bounced, toted, "ketchy ketcbied," chucked under the chin, poked in its cheeks, or somebody's thumb is thrust into its toothless raoutn, irrespective of a need of ablution, and then if a baby isn't happy, it is reputed very irritable. Tickling the baby's feet, creeping the fingers, like the motion of a mouse, across its breast and up into its.fat, sensitive neck wrinkles, is another mode of amusing baby. Of course the child laughs, and the idiots, who torment it, forget that it is the same expression with which they reply to a similar process from the hand of some mischievous but torturing friend; and yet we all know that this laugh from a man is a hysterical outcry of nervous irritability. When the laugh ceases, weariness brings weeping, or perhaps a restless and unrefresbing sleep, followed by depression, and probably by indigestion and colic. Nothing should ever be done to startle a child?even a too frequent playing of bo-peep, if violent, has been known to bring on St. Vitus' dance. All surprises are dangerous to the nervous system, just as all sudden atmospheric or dietic changes are very unhealthy, and sometimes fatal. If music is lonasa onnnn /ikilll'a flflfb if O^IWW? VV J'lV-UOV JVUUg VUt?M U VW*W| "? should be geutle and soothing. SQF The Chinese plan of paying the doctor a stipulated sum, periodically, to keep one well instead of feoing him after one is sick, is practiced with modification in some parts of this country. A physician of Springfield, Massachusetts, has for two years past entered jpf/t on nrrnngflmnnt mi'tit nnm* fifl.j jml.imiLw by which he is paid a small yearly fee for giving hygienic advice and for suggesting preventives of disease. If one of these patients become ill, the doctor visits him at half rates. The Chinese physician, under similar circumstances, receives no compensation whatever, and his regularly salary ceases until the patient recovers. It will be seen that Springfield is not quite up to the Chinese standard in the way of furntshing inducements to doctors to prevent instead of to cure disease. Nevertheless, the plan is an improvement on the ordinary system, which requires that other people must fall sick or the doctor must starve. The Medical-and Surgical Reporter commends the suggestion which the experiment furnishes, and points out that by its adoption the physician acquires a knowledge of his patient's system and habits in health, often a matter of great importance to proper treatment. It is suggested as an improvement on the Springfield plan, that where one of the doctor's charges falls ill'through the deliberate violation of the hygienic principles impressed upon him, he should pay double ? nnt A/l /I rt C lit A It A I f * ? ItlikU It A ItTAIll/I ices lUBieau ui tuc nau laico, wuivu uo nuuiu otherwise be charged. + ? , Say What You Mean.?Let your friends kDow that you love them. Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. Fill their lives with sweetness. Speak approving, cheeriDg word3 while their hearts can hear them, and while their hearts can be thrilled by them. The things you mean to say when they are gone, say before they go. The flowers yoo mean to send for their coffins, send to brighten and sweeten their homes before they leave them. If my friends have any alabaster boxes laid away, full of perfumes, of sympathy and affection, which they intend to break over my dead body, I would rather they would bring them in my weary hours and open them, that I may be refreshed and cheered by them while I need them. I would rather have a bare coffin without a flower, and a funeral without an eulogy, than a life without the sweetness of lo. e and sympathy. Let us learn to anoint our friends beforehand for their burial. Post-mortem kindness does not cheer the burdened spirit. Flowers on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over the weary days of our lives. V3T One of the most horrible tragedies in Connecticut's recent record, is that which startled Norwich a few months ago, when Wesley W. Bishop and Mrs. Kate M. Cobb were accused of poisoning, the one his wife and the other her husband, in order to carry on more successfully their criminal intimacy. The preliminary examination left little doubt that the dead pair bad been murdered, and now Bishop has made a full confession. He admits his intimacy with Mrs. Cobb, aud that i j *! : i a_ L.*n i i ne pruuureu me puieuu iur uer iu nui uer uuaband with, and also charges upon the woman the poisoning of bis own wife. All of which is very likely true, though some people doubtless think that it is rather rough for Bishop to "go back on" the woman in such wholesale fashion. B8P This is a boy's composition on girls: "Girls are the only folks that has their own way every time. Girls is of several thousand kinds, and sometimes one girl can be like several thousand girls if she wants to do anything. This is all I know about girls, and father says the lees I know about them the better off I am." A French scientist, in a communication to the Academy of Science, states that he was able, after having well investigated the subject for several years, to say that all eggs containing the germ of males have wrinales on the small end, while female eggs are smooth. A Williamsburg man woke bis wife the other uight, and, in a startled tone of voice, informed her that he bad swallowed a dose of strychnine. "Well, you fool," said she, "liestill, or it may come." V&" One old man said to another, "I am dead in this world." "Do not trust yourself," said the other, "till you are out of this world. If you are dead, the devil is not."