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Il,e wis m. grist, proprietor.! Jniepenlrent Jamilg ^tctospaper: jfor fjre $romotion of t|c $oltfitaI, Social, ^jjrieultnral anb Commercial Interests of % Soatj}. TERMS?$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. "VOL. 24=. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1878. NO. 51. _ ' * " .1 . [ihf ftorn idle*. A NOBLE GENTLEMAN." I sat spinning at my little wheel in the sun, for the autumn day was cold, when I heard some one whistling, and looking up, there was young 'Squire Turner, with his arms folded ou the gate, looking over. When he caught my eye be laughed and blushed; and I rose and made him a courtesy. He was a handsome gentleman, the Squirt and the hand from which he pulled the glove shimmered in the sun with pearls and diamonds ; and he was bonny to look at, with his hair like spun gold in the October sunlight. When I courtesied he bowed, making his jpipfcftrce over his shoulders, and, said, he, "I've spoiled one pretty picture, that I could have looked at all day, but I've made another as prettv, so I'll not grieve. May I come inT "And welcoraef sir," said I; and I sat a chair for him, for he was graudfather's landlord ; but for all that I felt uncomfortable, kfur I was not used to Sue compauy. He talked away, paying me more compliments thau I was used to, for grandmother, who brought me up, always said, "Handsome * * -t - ? J it T) ? ? in ?n Witf at* t n 118 as Handsomeaoes, auu ueautjr m uutomu deep." Since I'm telling the story, I'll tell the truth. I had been wrought about one thing. Neither of the old folks knew that I wore Evan Locke's ring in my bosom, or that we'd taken a vow to each other under the hawthorne that grew in the church lane. I never meant to deceive, hut grannie was old and a littj^hard of hearing, and that love of mine was such a sweet secret. Besides, money seems to outweigh all else when people have struggled all their lives to turn a peuny, and they kuew Evan was a poor struggling surgeou. I thought I'd wait awhile until I could sweeten the news with the fact that he'd begun to make his fortune. Grannie came in from the dairy five minutes after the 'Squire bad gone, and beard he had been there. I didn't tell her of the fine speeches, but there was a keyhole in the door she came through, and I guess she heard them. That night we had something else to think of- Misfortune had come upou grandfather ; but I didn't foresee that when the half year's reut should come due not a penuy to pay it with could be found. All this time Evan Locke and I had been as foud as ever of each other, and he came as often as before to talk with grandpa, on the winter nights; and still every little while our yoQug landlord, 'Squire Turner, would drop in and sit in his lazy way, watching me knit or spin. Once or twice he was flushed with wine and over bold, for he tried to kiss me. But 'Squire or no, I boxed his ears for his pains, aud no softer than I could help either. I could not help his coming, nor help seeing him when he came, and I did not desire that Evan should be angry with me. But he was. Eh, so high and mighty spoke as though one like the 'Squire could mean no good by coming to so poor a place as the schoolmaster's. He made me angry and I spoke up. "For that matter the 'Squire would be glad to have me promise to marry him," said I. "He thiuks more of me than you do just now." 1 ** M?j Uv 4lkc lfltu Ot> W Svwu* "I don't say that," replied I. "Bad temper and jealousy scarce makes me over fond of another. I pray I may never have a hus, band who will scold me." | For he had been scolding me. There was / no other name for it. Pf Well, Evan was wroth with me and I with r him?not heart deep, though, I thought? and I did not see him for more than a week. I wasn't troubled much, though. I knew he would come around again and mayhap would ask my pardon. For before you are wed you L can bring your lover to his senses when you will. So I did not fret after Evan's absence, nor quite snub 'Squire Turner, who liked me more than ever. But one uight g?-?udfather came in from a lonely ride, and shutting the door, stood between grandmamma and me, looking at me, and so strangely that we both grew frightened. At last he spoke : "I have been to the 'Squire's," said he. "For the first time I had to tell him that I could not pay his rent when due. I opened my lips. Grandmamma's hand covered them. Grandpa drew me to him. "Thou art young, lass," he said, "and they are right who call thee pretty. Say, could'st like the 'Squire well enough to wed him ?" "Eh ?" cried grandma. "Sure, you're not wandering ?" " 'Squire Turner asked me for this lass of ? A ^^ ?11 In f ko rrnfl/I OUrS MJ-mgnk. V/l Ull WUUJCU iu tuv nvnu there is but oDe he loves as he should his wife, and that is our Agatha." "I dreamt of golden rings and a hunch of l _ white roses on Christmas eve," cried grannie, f "I knew the lass would be lucky." f But I put my head on grandfather's shoulders and hid my face. The truth must out, I knew. gfim "Wilt have him and be a rich lady ?" said |SF grandpa. And when he waited for an answer I burst out with "No !" and a sob together. "She's frightened," said grandma. "Nay, we must all wed once in our lives, ray child." Then grandpa talked to me. He told me how poor they had grown, and how kiud the 'Squire was, and I had but to marry him to make ray grandparents free from debt and poverty their lives through. If I refused and L vexed the 'Squire, heaven only knew what I might happen. I "She'll never ruin her poor grandpa," sob< bed grandmamma. Ah ! it was hard to hear?bitter hard ; but now there was no help for it. I took the ring from ray bosom and laid it in my palm, and told them that it was Evan Locke's, and that I had plighted my troth to him. And grandmamma called me a deceitfui wench, and grandfather looked as though his heart would break. Oh ! I would do anything for them?anything but give up my true love. That night I kissed his ring and prayed heaven that he might love me always. In the morning it was gone, ribbbon and all, from ray neck. I looked for it high and low, but no sign of it. And I began to fear the loss of the ring was a sign that I would never marry Evan Locke. The day passed on and he never came near me. Ohl it was cruel in him, I thought, to hold such anger for a hasty word he had provoked when I spoke it that he must know I loved him so. And grandma could scarcely look at me, fT tnnm whv nnwl and prandna sighed and VJ. ,..v ,, D r D moaDed, and talked of the work-house. And I thought I should die of grief among them. One day grandma said to me, "It seems that your sweetheart is not over-fond of you, nor over-anxious to see you." "Why not ?" said I. "Where has he been this month back ?" "Busy, doubtless," said I, with a smile, though I thought my heart would burst. "Perhaps you know all about it," said ? grandma. "You are going with him, may be." "Where ?" said I. She went to the kitchen door and beckoned in a woman who sat there?Dame Coombs, who had come over with the eggs. "I heard you rightly," she said. "You 1 told me Evau Locke aod his mother were making ready for a voyage." "They're going to Canada. My son, a I carpenter?and a good one, though I say it? ! made the doctor a box for his things. The : old lady dreads the country, but she goes for : the doctor's sake. There's money to be made there, they say, That's what takes him." "I told you so," said grandmother. "1 don't believe it," said I. "They've sold the house and gone to Livj erpool to take ship, and you may find the truth for yourself, if you choose to take the trouble," said Dame Coombs. "I'm no chatterbox to tell falsehoods about my neighbors." i And she went away in wrath. And still I would not believe it till I bad walked across the moor and had seen the shutters fast closed and the door barred, and not a sign of life about the place. Then I gave up hope. I went home all pale and trembling and sat down at grandmamma's knee. "It's true," said I. "And for the sake of so false a lad you'll see your grandfather ruined, and break his heart, and leave me that have nursed you from a babe, a widow/' I looked at her as she sobbed, and I found strength to say: "Give me to whom you will, then, since my owu love does not want me." And then I crept up stairs and sat down upon my bedside, weak as though I had fainted. I would have thanked heaven for forgetfulness just then, but it would not come. The next day 'Sqoire Turner was in the parlor as my accepted lover. How pleased he was, and bow the color came back into grand father's old face! And granuie grew so proud and kind and all the house was aglow, and only I sad. But I couldn't for get Evan?Evan whom I loved so?sailing away from me without a word. I suppose they all saw I looked sad. The 'Squire talked of ray health, and would make me ride with him over the moors for strength. The old folks said nothing. They knew what ailed me; only our little Scotch maid seemed to think there was aught wrong. Once she said to me : "What ails ye, miss? Your eye is dull and your cheek is pale, and your braw grand lover canua make ye smile, ye are na that ill either." "No; I'm well enoagh," said I. 00$ looked at me wistfully. "Gid ye'd tell roe your ail, I might tell you a cure," she said But there was no care for roe in this world, and I couldu't open my heart to simple Jenuie. So the days rolled by, aud I was close on my marriage eve, and grannie and Dorothy Plume were busy with my wedding robes. I wished it were my shroud they were working at, instead. And one night the pain in my heart grew too great, and I wentout among the purple heather on the moor, and there knelt down under the stars and prayed to be taken from the world; "for hov can I live without Evan ?" I said. I spoke the words Bloud, and then started up in affright, for there at my side was an elfish little figure, anl I beard a cry that at first I scarce thougkt earthly. Yet it was but Scotch Jennie, who had followed me. "Why do ye call fir your true love now ?" she said; "ye sent jim fra ye sake o' the "t&w ^lare you foIUw and watch me?" But she caught rayBleeve. "Dinna be vexed," the said. "Just bide a wee, and auswer what I speer. It's for love of you, for I seen ys waste like the snaw wreath in the sun sin the 'Squire wooed ye. Was it your will the ltd that loved the ground ye trod on should haie his riDg again ?" "What do you mean ?" I said. "I'll speak gin I lose my place," said Jennie. "I rode with thi mistress to young Dr. Lock's place past the moor, and there she lighted and gave hitr a ring, and what she said I know not, butit turned him the tint o' death, and said he 'There's na a drop o' true bluid in a weman 'gin she is false.' And he turned to th> wall and covered his eyes, an' your gramie rode home. There, 'tis all I kin?wull r do?" "Ay, Jennie," saicl; "heaven bless you !" And had I wings on my feet I could not have come to the cotage door sooner. i I stood before raygrandraother, trembling and white, and I said: "Ob, don't tell me, grannie, you have cleated me and robbed me of my true love by i lie. Did you steal the i troth ring from my leek and give it back to i Evan, as if from m<? You I've loved and honored ray life ltfig?I'd rather die than think it." She turned scarlet "True love?" sad she; "you've but one love now?'Squire "urner. j "You have donei?" I cried ; "it's written on your face." And she looked town at that and fell to weeping. 1 "My own true love was breaking his heart," she said. "My husband and I had | loved for fifty yean I did it to save him. i Could I let a gir's fancy, worth nothing, ] stand in my way, tod Bee him a beggar in his 1 old age? Oh, girl girl!" I And then I fel down at her feet like a i stone. I knew noting for an hour or more ; < but then, when I vas better, and they left 1 me with Jennie, ] bade her fetch my hood I and cloak and he! own, away I went across I the moor in the strlight to where the hall windows were abtae with light, and asked I the housekeeper t< let me see the 'Squire. f She stared at raifor my boldness?no won- < der?but called Im. So in a moment he stood before me ichis evening dress, with his < cheeks flushed an his eyes bright, and led < me into a little rcfm and seated me. - i ? - r t ? i "Agatna, my ?ve, 1 nope no miscnance i brings you here,"he began. But I stopped iim. j "Not your lofc, 'Squire Turner," I said. "I thank you forihinking so well of me, but < even after all tht had passed, I?" 1 I could say ntroore. He took my hand, s "Have I offend?' you, Agatha?" he said. i "Not you. Te offense?tho guilt?oh, I ' have been sorel cheated !" and all I could do was to sob ?d th:nk he thought me mad. At last ray sfength came to me. I went i back to the firt and told him all?how we 1 ! had been pligfcpd to each other, waiting only I I for better prospcts to be wed, aod how, when ( he honored ni hy the offer of his hand, I t angered my godparents by owning to the 1 truth, and ofthe ring grannie had stolen 1 j from ray breai. and the false message that t I had sent my fomised husband from me. i "And thouh I never see Evan Locke t ! again," said F'still I can never be another t ! man's true lot, for I am his until I die." \ Then, as looked, all the rich color faded out of the 'Shire's face, and 1 saw the sight we seldom sehnore than once in a lifetime? ] a strong youtf man in tears. i At last he rose and came to me. i "My littleAgatha never loved me," he i said. "Ah, it! The Dews is bad?I thought 1 she did. Th1 comes of vanity." < "Many a Igher and fairer have hearts to t give," I said. "Mine had gone ere you saw i me." e And then.tind and gentle as though I had Dot grieved kn, he gave me his arm ard saw f me across thimoor, and at the gate paused and whisper^: "Be at res Agatha. The Canadian ship, 1 Golden Geo*e, has not sailed yet." I i I liked him better than I bad ever done before that night when I told grannie that I would never wed him. Eh ! but he was fit to be king?the grandj est, kindest, best of living men; who rode away with the break of the morrow and nev; er stopped till he reached Liverpool, and found Evan Locke just ready to set foot upon the Golden George, and told him a tale that made his heart light and sent him back to me; but our young 'Squire? Heaven bless him! And who was it that sent old grandfather the deed of gift that made the cottage bis own, and who spoke a kind word to the gentry for young Dr. Locke that helped him into practice ? Still no one but 'Squire Turner, whom we taught our children to pray for every night. For we were married, and in a few years had girls and boys at our knees; I and when the oldest was nigh two, the thing that I needed to make roe quite happy happened?and from far over the sea, where we had been three good twelve months, came our 'Squire, with the bonoiest lady that ever blushed beside bim, and the hall had a mistress at last?and a mistress who loved the 'Squire as I loved Evan. Eh ! But it's an old story. She that I remembered a girl I saw in her coffin, withered and old. And then they opened the vault where the 'Squire had slept ten years, to put her beside him; and I've nothing left of Evan, my life and my love, but his memory, and it seems as if every hope and dream of joy I ever had were put away under tombstones. And even the Golden George, the great strong ship that would have borne my dear from me, has mouldered away on the bottom of the sea somewhere. And I think my ring is like to outlast us all, for I have it yet, and I shall be ninety to morrow. Ninety 1 It's a good old age, and it can't be long now before I meet Evan aud the rest in heaven. Heading. BUGGY RIDING. "Suppose," said he, in accents soft, "A felloe, just like me, Should axle little girl to wed? What would the answer be ?" The maiden drops her liquid eyes? Her smiles with blushes mingle? "Why seek the bridle halter when You may live on, sur, cingle ?" And then he spoke?" Oh, be my bride, I ask you once again ; You are the empress of my soul, And there shall ever rein. "I'll never tire of kindly deeds To win your gentle heart, And saddle be the shaft that rends Our happy lives apart!" Upon her cheeks the maiden felt The mantling blushes glowShe took him for her faithful hub? To share his wheel or whoa. [iS<. Louis Journal. DAVID DICKSON. SOME PRACTICAL VIEW8 ELICITED FROM THE GREAT FARMER, PERTINENT TO THE PRESENT TIMES. Editors Chronicle and Constitutionalist: Thinking a brief respite from the monotony of a dull town would be both healthful and pleasant, your correspondent planned < and executed, during the present week, a visit to Mr. David Dickson, of Hancock r> county, ureurgm. j?lr\ntor in tl*** QovvtK. TTo Kod ?? *? Li* way lo that proud distinction, not by long spun theories, peddled out in journals and reviews, but by the demonstration of practical success, which is, after all, the true test of merit. Mr. Dickson is a remarkable man, considered almost from any point of view. His physical organization is texturally fine. His appearance is striking and commanding. He would arrest the eye in any assemblage of men. He has the broad, honest, intellectual face of the genuine Anglo-Saxon, of which race he comes. His cast of mind is hardy and practical, as is evinced by the great prominence of the perceptive organs. He is, eminently, a man of affairs, viewing all questions in the light of reason and common sense. Mr. Dickson is one of the few planters of the South who has kept up the large farming operations of ante bellum days; and notwithstanding the stringency of the times and recent seasons of drouth, has managed to make money on every crop he has ever grown, with the single exception of the present year. His entire farm, covering an area of 20,000 acres, presents everywhere the appearance of thrift and enterprise, in striking contrast to the dilapidated and effete plantations contiguous to it. His fences appear in good repair; neat and commodious cabins dot his place from centre to circumference. Water gins and saw mills of the most approved pat- ? tern are whirled by every stream that waters j his domains. Ponds (five in number), abound- ^ ing with fish and constructed at a total cost ? of $30,000, upturn their silvery faces from t between the hills, and in the expressive lan- j guage of Byron, "Warm up with their still- i ess, to forsake earth's troubled waters for a e purer spring." All of these objects, com- fi bining the useful and beautiful, render a ride c through Mr. Dickson's farm a most delightful a and interesting pastime. Your correspond- 8 snt had the pleasure of this jaunt in company a with the proprietor, and took advantage of c :he time and occasion to ply him with the 8 following interrogatories : t "Mr. Dickson, you are the only planter in e the State who has farmed on an extensive icale that has managed to keep up. What a jo you attribute your success to ?" 0 "Well, I don't know, unless it is to 6nan- c Bering. I make calculations aud steer clear j, jf what don't pay." P "Do you expect to make large gains now (j is you did years ago ?" a "Oh, no. It is out of the question for a c farmer to make money now on hired labor, c rhere is too little margin between the price j] >f labor and the price of the products of that n abor. The price of labor and other neces- c iary expenses aggregate, in most instances, n uore tbau the entire product of that labor a will bring. I expect to get my rents." g "What isyour plan of renting '" a "Well, I furnish the land, the agricultural u mplement8, the horse and its feed, together ti with two-thirds of the guano. The renter a famishes the labor aud feeds it, and one-third o )f the guano. At the end of the year I take sj wo-tbirds of all the crops, and give the la- y jorer one-third. In other words, I rate the ? and at one-third, the horse and its feed aud h he agricultural implements, blacksmithing, v ?t ono.fbirH anrl tha lahnr at. nnn-t.btrd ? ----- ?" " ? ? t ?(y j ind rent upon this principle. I think this is e he fairest system of reuting that can be de- v Msed." ti "Who gathers the crop ?" I "Of course the laborer does the gathering, d [ calculate that in as part of the labor. One tl >f my hands not long ago gathered his third f< >f the corn and left ray two-thirds standing C n the field. At the end of the year, he came a mck to rent again. I told bira no, he had a lug his own grave. Yes, sir, the laborer o: nust perform the whole of his contract, which o: ncludes the making and gathering of the a ntire crop." tl "What is the plan you would advise the k arraere to pursue another year ?" V "In the first pUce I would advise them to ir ncrease the capacity of their lands. Rich p and is the hest labor saving machine I h mow of for the present generation and for 1c posterity. Second, Pay the laborer, if he hires for wages, in the products of the land then he Bhares with you the loss occasioned by low prices." "What is a hand worth another year?" "The way to estimate that is to calculate what an average hand will make an average year. I calculate it this way: One hand will make three bales of cotton, fifty busheh of corn and three thousand pounds of oats. Now, take the third of that, and you have what an average hand is worth." "How is it you can get so much work out o:fyour hands? I notice you cultivate more land to the plow, and do it better than anybody else ?" "Well, in the first place, I try to get willing but active hands. I then take especial pains to train them to be expert?to do everything in the shortest, the best, the easiest and the most efficacious way. Why, there is skill in farming as there is in every thing else. tka mot* ruKon T maA a a anontahv nf if JL'ciui^ IUV W ut | TTI1VU a. ujuviv m wj/vviwi wj w? <v| my bands cut with more facility, plowed with more accuracy, hoed more rapidly and picked more cotton than any hands I ever saw. I trained them to do everything the right way aiad on scientific principles. Of course I can't manage free labor so efficiently, but you cun still see some signs of my old methods." "How is it you make so much more to the plow than any body else?" "Well, if that i9 so, I attribute it to two causes: First, I cultivate more land to the plow; my system of shallow culture, with broad sweeps, allows that. Second, my methods of cultivation and preparation are, I think, thoroughly scientific. I break my hinds deep aod cultivate them on the surface. In other words my motto is deep plowing before planting and shallow plowing after planting." "But will not the lands get too hard to cultivate them shallow after the packing rains of the Spring ?" "Oh! no; not if you will keep a plenty of vegetable mould in them. Rotate the crops and I will warrant they will never get too hard." "How do you manage to control labor?I notice every hand seems to know his place and everything moves on smoothly and harmoniously ?" "Well, I don't know tis to that. A great deal is owing to what I call tact. I convince the laborer that I understand farming better than he does, and that my way is right. I never neglect him, so as to leave the impression on his mind that I am indifferent or careless. I give him justice and demand my rights at his hands." But time will not permit a further enumeration of Mr. Dickson's views. He seems to bo full of the strongest and most practical ideas and presents them in the tersest, most original way. As a mac, he is generous and brave, an honor to bis country and his race. B. H. S. Sparta, Georgia. WHAT IS A "GENTLEMAN." rni_ _ i it r al. * *2-1- !? l ne cie-ver auinor 01 me receui uridine iu Blackwovd on "American Nobility," makes what may be called a palpable hit, when he a'dudes to the habit of gentlemanizing everybody whose sex will permit, whether the perBon thus characterized possesses any of the requisite qualifications or not. Thus we have the gentlemanly bar-keeper, the gentlemanly chief cook, the gentlemanly head waiter, the gentlemanly ring-master, the gentlemanly u__. U?u ri?, tiie genuemaoiy uunTc-j*/vkcy, the gentlemanly billiard-sharp, the gentlemanly proprietor of a side show, the gentlemanly this, that and the other, to the end of the chapter. To such a ridiculous extent is this purely American custom carried, that the phrase, "You are no gentleman," conveys an unpardonable insult; and nothing is more common than for two blackguards to appeal to the arbitrament of fists because the one applies that phrase to the other. The most consummate rogue that ever enjoyed the persuasive influences of a penitentiary considers himself a gentleman, and is prepared to fight if the title is withheld from him. The consequence is that this title has, in our country, lest all its original significance, and is distributed with a reckless liberality highly amusing ;o the intelligent foreigner. What is a gentleman, according to the tooseldom consulted authority of the dictionary? Worcester gives five definitions: First, "Eviry man above the rank of a yeoman, how;ver high." Second, "A man raised above ;he vulgar by birth, education, condition, pro'ession or manners ; a person of good breed jig and character." Third, "A person of ]olisbed and agreeable manners, as distinguished from the vulgar and clownish." fourth, "The servaut of a man of rank who ittends his person." Fifth, "One who bears, >r is entitled to, a coat of arms." It is evilent, however, that some of these definitions ire not applicable to the dwellers under a relublican form of government. We are all reomen here, in one sense of the word; and lie humblest of us may climb to the top of he political and social tree, providing there a the proper amount of brains and energy. iVe have no men of rank, that is, hereditary iristocracy; consequently, no servants who ire gentlemen's gentlemen. Coats of arms :an be imported or manufactured at home, ind furnished in quantities, not quality, to uit, for cash or approved paper. The herildic device of any royal family in Europe an be appropriated by any of our native overeigns without permission of the owners, hough ex-Minister Pierrepont was polite ough to ask the cousent of the British irauca of the family before displaying their .rmorial bearings on his carriage and envelipes. Nor are the remaining definitions? omprehensive though thoy are?entirely sat factory. Perhaps, indeed, they are too comirehensive to satisfy those who like to get lown, at once, to the bsd-rock of common ense. For instance, the accident of birth annot make a gentleman. George IV was ailed, by his flatterers, "the first gentleman a Europeyet George IV was what the nember from Arkansas would call "a clear ase of dog." Nor does p rofession or position Liake a gentleman. Jeffries was a lawyer, Dd Lord Chief Justice of England, yet a reater ruffian and rascal never polluted the weet air of heaven. Sir Robert Walpole ras one of the ablest of English pri me rainis[;rs, yet he had the manners of a bull-driver nd the principles of ademagogue. Frederick, r Pmooio in a a binnr "Kw rliirina rirvKf " a .1 J. iuoojc*! noo aiug u j umuu m plendid soldier and a brilliant statesman; et he could and did say and do things that rould bring a blush to the cheek of a coaleaver. Calvin was spiritual Lord of Genea, and a theologian of preeminent ability; et the language he used in regard to the hetrodox of his day, and the treatment of Seretus received at his hands, prove him destiute of the fundamental ideas of a gentleman. 11 American as well as European Christenom, a theory prevails in fashionable circles, iiat it is a moral and physical impossibility ir a mechanic to be a gentleman ; though all .'hristendom worships the son of a carpenter, nd follows the teachings of the fishermen nd the tent-maker. There is often far more f that chivalry which is an essential feature f' true gentlemanliness, under the rough coat nd dirty face of the mechanic than under ie smooth broadcloth and perfumed whisers of an ornament of "our best society." Ifhen we have seen a working man, returnig from a long day's toil, rise and give hie jace, in a crowded street car, to a lady, while alf a dozen "gentlemen" were resolutely ioking the other way, the conclusion hae> > forced itself upon us that all gentlemen did , not wear gloves and white shirts. And when I we have seen the lady take the workingman's seat without the smiling "Thank you" she would have bestowed upon the wearer of i gloves and white shirt, we have been convinced i that female politeness is not always a firstI class article, and that one may be the belle of i belledom without being a genuine lady. After all? 1 "Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather orprunello." Or, as Burns puts it: 1 "The rank is but the guinea's stamp ; A man's a man for a' that." It is not birth, position, profession, or even education, that constitutes the gentleman. Unless there be a substratum of noble manhood, there can be no real gentlemanship. One must be a thoroughly manly man in order to be a thorough gentleman; and thoroughly manly men are not found exclusively in fine houses and fine clothes. It is quite possible to have "the blood of all the Howards" in your veins, the culture of all the schools in your head, the money of all the Rothschilds in your pockets, the accolade of all the kings on your shoulders, the graces of all the Chesterfields in your deportment, and . .. r ii i . .J i ; : L yet to iaw very snort 01 Deiog au uuiujpencilable gentleman. It is quite possible to come from plebian stock, to be deflcient in learning and in cash, to have neither the honors nor the manners of courts, and yet to be one of God's own gentlemen. Of that man only who has faithfully tried?however often he may have failed?to live up to the golden rule; who has valued! his self-respect more than success, his honesty more than wealth, his pride more than vanity, his independence more than ease, his convictions more than comfort, his duty more than happiness?of that man only can it be said: "And so he bore, sans blight or ban, The grand old name of gentleman." St. Louis Republican. # + SPENDING MONEY ON BOYS. ONE OF BOB INGERSOLL'S THEORIES PUT TO THE TEST. Not long since, says Peck's Sun, the following utterance of Bob Ingersoll went the rounds of the papers : Col. Ingersoll says he keeps "a pocketbook in an open drawer, and his children go and help themselves to money whenever they want it. They eat when they want to. They may sleep all day if they choose, and set up all night if they desire. I dont try to correct tbem. I never punish, I never scold. They buy their own clothes, and are masters of themselves." A gentleman living on Marshall street, who has a boy that is full as kitteny as bis father, read the article, and pondered deeply. He knew that Col. Ingersoll was a success at raising children in the way they should go, and he thought be would try it. The boy had caused him considerable annoyance. and he made ud his mind that be had Dot treated the boy right; so he called the boy in from the street, where he was putting soft soap on the lamp-post, in order to see the lamp lighter climh it, and said to him : "My son, I have decided to adopt a different course with you. Heretofore I have been careful about giving you money, and have wanted to know where every cent went to, and ray supervision has no doubt been annoying to you. Now, I am going to any pookofcbooli in tbo turcou drawer wiit plouty of mnnpy in it, and you aro At liberty to use all you want without asking me. I want you to buy any thing you desire, buy your own clothes, and to feel as though the money was yours and that you had not got to accouDtfor it. Just make yourself at home now, and try to have a good time." The boy looked at the old gentleman and thought he had "got 'em sure," and went out to see the lamp lighter climb that soft soap. The next day the stem parent went out iDto the country Bbooting, and returned on the midnight train three days later. He opened the door with his night key, and a strange yellow dog grabbed him by the elbow of his pants, and shook him, as he said, like the ague." The dog barked and chewed until the son came down in his night shirt and called him off. He told his father that he bad bought that dog of a fireman for eleven dollars; and it was probably the best dog bargain that had been made this season. He said the fireman told him he could sell the dog for a hundred dollars, if he could find a man that wanted 1L.1 l.:? A ?C - A tuat aiLiu ui a uug, The parent took off bis pants what the dog had not removed, and in the hall be stumbled over a birch bark canoe the boy had bought of an Indian for nine dollars, and an army musket with an iron ramrod fell down from the corner. The boy had paid six dollars for that. He also bought himself an overcoat with a seal skin collar and cuffs, and a complete outfit of calico shirts and silk stockings. In his own room the parent found the marble top of a soda fountain, a wheelbarrow and a shelf filled with all kinds of canned meats, preserves and crackers, and a barrel of apples. A wall tent and six pair of blankets were rolled up ready for camping out, and a buckskin shirt and a pair of corduroy pants on the bed.ready for putting on. Six fish poles and a basket full of fish lines were ready for business, and an oyster can full of grub-worms, for bait were squirming on the wasbBtand. The old gentleman looked the layout over, looked at his pocket book in the bureau drawer, as empty as a contribution box, and said : "Young man, the times have been too flush. We will now return to a specie basis. When you want money come to me, and I will give you a nickel; and you will tell me what you intend to buy with it, or I'll warm you ; you hear me ?" And now that man stands around from the effects of the encounter with the yellow dog, and asks every man where a letter can reach Bob lagersoll. Hesays he will kill Ingersoll, if it is the last noble act he ever accomplishes. POISONEDWATERS. From some cause as yet unexplained, the waters from which Florida fishermen take f their fish are poisoned to such a great extent * as to entirely stop the business of fishing. ? The singular circumstance is thus described r by the Key West (Fla.) Key: t For over two months the fishermen have ? been unable to get live fish to Havana; they all die on reaching the putrid waters of the r bay, which has now extended over one hun- r Hreil and fiftv miles into the Gulf of Mexico. J The amack George Storrs, Captain Reb Allen attempted to run to the westward in hopea p of eacaping the deadly waters, and when fifty J railea weat of Tortugas, in twenty-five fath- a oras water, lost hia whole fare of fiah in a very tl short time. He describes the poisoned water vi to the south and weat of him as far as he fi could see. The largest fish, such as shark, p jew-fish and turtle, were floating around his S vessel. He pointed his vessel eastward and p entered our port on Tuesday, almost disgusted, o On Saturday, the water had appeared near t< the northwest lighthouse, with its thousands b of dead fish, floating like tufta of cotton over tl the sea. On Monday and Tuesday the water 1 was dotted with dead Portuguese men-of-war, n (a marine animal,) but not until Wednesday a did the dead fish appear in sight. The strata ei of dark reddish water passed through our o island channels, carrying on its surface fish of all kinds?many of tbem of the largest speci- ti mens of sharks, jew-fish, barracouta, grouper, w grunts, interspersed witl) ft feyy fcipus of the a fresh water varieties, such as the mud-eels, bull-head catfish, bream, perch, etc. The fresh water fish, eels, etc., are found in great abundance in Lake Okeechobee, Kissimmee river, and Fish-Eating creek. As these dead fish approached our wharves, the stench became almost intolerable, and many plans were attempted and suggested to keep them in tide water. Had this occurred in the heat of summer a plague must have followed. It is even yet feared. The fish are dying in our harbor, and no one knows where this great evil will stop. Our people are large fish-eaters, and if deprived of this cheap class of food, there must necessarily be much suffering. DEATH IN THE OIL CAN. A man out in South Hill, had reason to believe that his superintendent of cuisine was in the habit of using kerosine to start the morning tares. Me placed bis suspicions in the form of a charge, which was indignantly denied and proof demanded. He wasn't ready with his testimony, and the case was dismissed for lack of evidence. But bis suspicions increased, and he ordered a secret investigation, and appointed himself chairman of the committee, with power to send for persons and papers. He laid his plans with care j and the next morning he followed bis maidservant down stairs at a careful and respeotful distance, and hid himself near the kitchen door, where be could not see nor be seen, while be could hear very distinctly, whatever was said or done. The rustle of paper and the rattle of dry lightwood was succeeded by hasty steps toward the closet in the cellar way. Then he beard the gurgling of a liquid, as though it was bubbling out of a small tin spout. He heard the can set'down and then the scrape of a match. "H'm" he heard the maid-servant remark. Then another match snapped and a barely audible fizzle succeeded. Grimly smiled the silent man by the outer door. "H'm," remarked the maid-servant, a little petulantly. Another match snapped and blazed up. Another sound as of sizzling. The smile on the face of the man deepened into a grin. "Well, I never did I" came from the kitchen, and there was heard the sound of more pouring on the light wood. Another match and more silence. "Well, did yon ever?" queried the queen of the range, evidently anxious to obtain testimony corroborative of her own experience, as set forth in her previous statement, that she never did. The man sitting outside the door throttled himself with both hands and softly pounded the ground with his heels. Something evidently excited him, and when the next match snapped he caught himself by the legs and bit fiercely into the corner of the < door frame in a frenzied effort to smother a i hollow groan. "The old Scratch is in the oil, I do believe," < said a troubled voice in the kitchen, and more i pouriDg ensued. Another match, another, I another. And the m?n crawled off behind i the cistern box, and hugged his knees with 1 many insane expressions and silent demon- i strations of interest, when he heard the ang- 1 ry voice inside the kitchen say: t "Plague on such oil I I'd like to pour it i all down Will Darling's back 1" < Another match, and then a confused sound of rattling and scraping, and a tearful woman came to the door and hurled an armful of t soaked paper and light wood out into the 1 yard and kicked., an oil can after it. The. J smiling man crept baok op stairs unseen. ] Breakfast was late that morning, and when j the queen of the kitchen was asked the cause ( wherefore, she said somebody had left the c shed door open and all the lightwood was t damp. And no man that ever filled an oil e can with non-explossve cistern water ever t looked half so innocent as the man who sat at t the head of that table choking over a graham t muffin.?Hawkeye. i Mr. BLAINE'S RESOLUTIONS. f On the second day of the session, caucuses ii were held by both Democratic and Republi- 8 can members of the Senate to determine their p respective courses of action upon the Blaine a resolutions, submitted the previous day, which f provide for inquiry by the judiciary commit- o tee concerning alleged violations of the right " of suffrage at the recent elections, and the a propriety of enacting additional legislation for its more perfect security in all the States of the Union. The Republicans decided to ^ noQo tKo roonlntmn fnr a ri nnfmn q ffor o m on/1. 1* paco uic i towj u biuu jui auu^wuu, aibvi ?uj^uu ing it so as to provide that investigation shall ? be made by a special committee, instead of b the committee on the judiciary. a It was also determined in the Republican * caucus that a resolution shall be offered short- e' ly, for discussion and action in the Senate, !S declaring entire the validity of the constitutional amendments and asserting the proprio- a ty of enforcing them by appropriate legisla- a tion. Democratic Senators, with unanimity, " decided to take the position that the Blaine v resolutions should be amended so as to refer to * alleged violations of laws or abridgements of 1 the right of suffrage in both the Northern and Southern States, instead of omitting reference j* to any specific part of the country, and that b is thus amended they will vote for its adop- 11 tion. Cl The following are the resolutions as submitted by Mr. Blaine: ' Resolved, That the judiciary committee be a) nstructed to inquire and report to the Senate 8) whether, at the recent elections the constitu- q, tional rights of American citizens wero viola- q; ted in any of the States of the Union ; wheth- b, ;r the right of suffrage of citizens of the Uni- b< ted States, or any class of such citizens, was ^ lenied or abridged by the action of the elec- w tion officers of any State, in refusing to re- jp leive their votes, in failing to count them, or n receiving and counting fraudulent ballots M n pursuance of a conspiracy to make the j awful votes of such citizens of no effect, and ^ whether such citizens were prevented from exercising the elective franchise, or forced to use j t against their wishes by violence or threats, a >r hostile demonstrations of armed or other ri >rganizations, or by any other unlawful tc neans or practice. se Resolved, That the judiciary committee be se urtber instructed to inquire and report, lo whether it is within the competency of Con- cr ;ress to provide, by additional legislation, for g( nore perfect security of the right of suffrage sh o citizens of the United States in all the States of the Union. 1 Resolved, That in prosecuting these inqui- ?* ies the judiciary committee shall have the ight to send for persons and papers. ;l< in / The Rights of the States.?In the Su- a >reme Court of the United States last week, ustice Jb leid delivered an opinion wnion will | ttract general attention, involving as it does, be status of the seceding States during the ^ rar. The case came up on a writ of error jaj rom the Supreme Court of Tennessee. The ^ rincipal question involved is whether the tate of Tennessee is obliged to receive in mi ayment of taxes the now depreciated notes f the Bank of Tennessee as it bound itself g d do by Section 12 of the charter of that frj ank in 1838; or whether it oan repudiate an bat contract as to notes issued after May 6, jj0 861, on the ground that the State Govern- an lent was then forcibly seized by insurgents ^'1 nd its powers usurped. The case raises levral Federal questions of interest, In the | pinion delivered, it is held \ ric First. That the theory4hat there can be nil vo different political entities called States do itbin the same geographical limits, one loy- it i 1 and one rebellious, is fanciful and unteua- wu ble, that there never has been more than one political society in existence as an organized State of Tennessee from the day of its admission into the Union in 1796 to the present hour. 8econd. There is no foundation fortheory which maintains such separation of the seceding States from the General Government as to make their legislation, while in rebellion, void and invalid unless ratified by positive laws enacted since their restoration. Third. There is no evidence in the case to prove that the issues of notes by the Bank of Tennessee after May 6,1861, were made for the purpose of aiding insurgents or in violation of the Constitution and laws of the United States, and that consequently the contract which the State made in 1838 to take the notes of the Bank of Tennessee in payment of taxes is and has all the time been under f.he nrnt.eet.inn nf the Federal fJnnatitu ? I ?--? ? ? tlOD. The judgment of the Supreme Court of Tennessee is, therefore, reversed and the cause remanded for further proceedings in accordance with this opinion. Justice Bradley delivered a dissenting opinion, denying the assumption that the governments of the Beceded States were lawful governments. The Chief Justice also delivered a dissenting opinion. The Charity of Extravagance.?Whenever the laboring men are out of employment they begin to bate the rich. They feel that the dwellers in palaces, the riders in carriages, the wearers of broadcloth, silk and velvet, bave in some way been robbing them. As a matter of fact the palace builders are the friends of labor. The best form of charity is extravagance. When you give a man money, when you toss him a dollar, although you get nothing, the man loses his manhood. To belp others help themselves is the only real charity. There is no use in boosting a man who is not climbing. Whenever I see a splendid home?a palace?a magnificent block, [ think of the many thousands who were fed?of women and children clothed, of the firesides made happy. A rich man living up to his privileges, having the best boose, the best furniture, the beat horses, the finest grounds, the most beautiful flowers, the best slothes, the best food, the best pictures, and all the books that he can afford, is a perpetual blessing. The prodigality of the rich is the providence of the poor. The extravagance of wealth makes it possible for the ; x. ; mi . L t_ _ 1! poor Lo uave. xne ncn man woo iivesaccording to bis means, who is extravagant in the best and highest sense, is not the enemy >f labor. The miser who lives in a hovel, wears rags and hoards his gold, is a perpetual curse. He is like one who dams a river at its source. The moment hard times come, the cry of economy is raised. The press, the platform ind pulpit UDite in recommending economy to the rich. In consequence of this cry, the nan of wealth discharges servants, sells his iiorses, allows his carriage to become a hen* roost, and after taking employment and food From as many as he can, congratulates him* self that he has done his part toward restoring prosperity to the country.?B. 0. Injersoll. "The Bayards of Delaware" have had i long and brilliant career in the Senate of the United States. In no other family of the and, axoapting perhaps the -fatmly-vf yiassachusetts, have the capacity and the op* jortunity for publio services gone together so conspicuously and so constantly. The present. RavapH r\f Flolnarara Viaa Koaii in fho fieri. ite since 1869. He entered that body in the ame year with Thnrman and Casserly, and hey three literally "held the fort" daring nany a weary session, reinforced from time o time by a new Democratic Senator, till iow the coming .of the solid Democratic maority which will control the Senate a year rom yesterday is secure. His father was his mraediate predecessor, and occupied the same eat for eight years. The grandfather of the iresent Senator occupied it for thirteen years, nd an uncle of the present Senator was also or many years one of thegreatlaw authorities f the body. Throughout the line these Bayards of Delaware" have been steadfast nd strong. tGF A horrible system of ducking has been iscovered in the Columbus (0.) insane asyjm, where, for the last thirteen months, exciable or ungovernable patients have been rought to subjection by throwing them into bath tub and holding their beads under the rater until they were exhausted and cowd into submission. This brutal treatment ras introduced into the asylum by Mrs. trown, who learned it in Canadian hospitals, nd in a short time she formed a secret allince among the female nurses, who bound lemselves by oaths to keep the secret. The ictims were threatened with drowning if aey ever told how they were ducked, and le practice was only learned at last through barges preferred against Mrs. Brown by a iscbarged attendant, who took this means to e revenged for her dismissal. An investigann disnlnRed the whole harhnritv. 'and nrn ared the discharge of those concerned in it. ? ? j IST The report of the auditor of puplic actuate, to the General Assembly of Virginia, t the session which began on Wednesday, lows that the MofFett register system of liuor taxation has realized about $500,000. his is less than was claimed for it when it was afore the two houses, but is more than has sen expected at any time within the past six lonths, and is two or three times as much 3 the old license plan produced. It is annotated that the auditor will recommend that le loose places in the Moffett law be tighten1, and that a better register be adopted, here is now very little active opposition to te law. 4 -^-4 I?" A drunkard in Sacramento, warned by touch of delirium tremens that he had cared his drinking altogether too far, resolved > reform or die. He declared his purpose to veral friends, locked himself in his room, ated himself in an easy chair, and put a aded pistol on a table within reach. The aving for alcohol grew stronger and stron)r, and at last, unable to resist his thirst, he tot himself through the heart. A large mass meeting of leading citizens ' New Orleans, held at the Varieties Theatre st Friday night, passed a series of resoluins t.hankinar tha nannla nf tha whnla nnnntrv the warmest terms for the aid extended the dieted people of the South during the fever idemic. A dispatch to the Galveston Nitos from igle Pass, states that General Trivino, the exican commander, visited Fort Duncan )t Thursday afternoon, and was received at e river by a company of cavalry aud escort1 to the post, where he was received with isic and salvos of artillery. When a Hartford woman patted her end's seven-years-old youngster on the head d said : "I should like to have such a little y as you are,'* he looked up into her face d replied: "Well, I guess you can; I don't ieve God's lost the pattern of me." &P A dreamy writer savs it would be cuius to follow a pound of silk from its spinig until it becomes a lady's dress. No ubt; but most men would prefer to follow after it becomes a dress, and while the lady 0 in it.