Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1 . ? '? * MWcl-- ? . ^ lewis m. gkist, Proprietor, j |lit Jitircpcnhnl Jfauulj ftetospptr: Jfffr Ijjt Ignrntatiiin: of % political, Social, ^griraltral ani> Commercial fndtrois if % jSontji. |TERMS--$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 25. YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 34, 1879. INTO. 3Q. Jtkftd fflfttg. TRODDEN FLOWERS. There are some hearts that, like the loving vine, Cling to the unkindly rocks and ruined towers, Spirits that suffer and do dot repine? Patient and sweetly as lowly trodden flowers, That from the passer's heel arise And bring back odorous breath instead of sighs. But there are other hearts that will not feel The lonely love that haunts their eyes and ears; That wound fond faith with anger worse than steel, And out of pity's spring drown idle tears. Oh Nature, shall" it ever be thy will 111 things with good to mingle, good with HI? Whv should the heavv foot of sorrow press The willing heart of uncomplaininglove? Meek charity that shrinks not from distress, Gentleness, loth her tyrants to reprove? Though virtue weep forever and lament, With one hard heart turn to her and repent? Why should the seed be broken that will bend, And they that dry the tears of others' eyes Feel their own anguish swelling without end, Their Summer darkened with the smoke of sighs ? Sure, Love to some fair region of her own , Will flee at last and leave us here alone. Love weepeth a way?weepeth for the past, For woes that are, for woes that may betide; Why should not hard ambition weep at last, Envy and hatred, avarice and pride ? Fate whispers that ro low is your poor lot They would be rebels; love rebeleth not. ut Mier. A SKETCH IN A HABBOW STREET. It was so narrow, this little back street in the quaint, old-fashioned German town, that Hans Gottlieb could, if he so wished, have shaken hands out of his window with his opposite neighbor. The sun that sbone so bravely elsewhere was seldom visible here; only in the early morning a few golden gleams found their ?n ond tmvft faint, encouragement to the " "J '" > """ a~" 't two or three flowers that blossomed in pots on the window-sill. On such occasions Hans would pause in his work, knowing full well what was coming?how the casement opposite would be flung open, and a girl's voice, singing a blithe little French song, would ring across the silent street to his listening ears; how a slim, pretty figure would for a moment stand framed in the blossoming scarlet runners?a pretty figure, with dark French eyes, and black hair, drawu up under a white cap, a beautiful contrast, so Hans thought, to his comely, yellow haired countrywomen. As soon as this vision appeared Hans would pause in his work and turn his eyes toward it, would wait till the watering of the flowers and the singing of the song were alike ended, and then would approach his window. "Good morning," his neighbor would call across in that pretty foreign German that was so enchanting in his ears?"Good morning, Monsieur Gottlieb," and tben with a nod and a smile the trim little figure would vanish into the dark shadows, and Hans return to his work. But though life was too busy with these two, and bread difficult to win, even when one worked hard for it, so that neither could afford to idle away the minutes in talk, yet Hans, as he worked, dreaming of the days when stone carving should not mean daily bread, but honor and glory to those he loved, was pleasantly conscious ail the time of a dark head bent over a table drawn close up to the * window opposite?a table covered witn many bright-colored scraps of muslin and paper? which in due course, under those deft, small hands, became summer flowers, at this short distance seeming to the looker-on the spoils of a Juno garden. Thus they worked day after day, these two, so near together, yet so far apart, abstaining from all conversation which might have made the days pass more quickly, but then an hour's idleness might mean going supperless to bed, so that even Rose Cordier, dearly as she loved the sound of her own voice, refrained from making use of it, except for an occasional song. But when the day was over, when the coolness came over the little close street, and the shadowy gray of the loug summer day was drawing to an end, when the small room grew dark, then Rose would rise and open the door, to interchange greetings and gossip with the neighbors?with the women sitting on their doorsteps, knitting in the peaceful twilight, their children playing about them ; with the fathers returning from their work ; with the young men loitering about smoking ; for Rose had always a bright word and look for every man, woman and child she knew. . And they were all fond of her?of this little foreigner who had come among them four years ago with au old mother, since dead, and who earned her daily bread honestly among them. Then, as it grew even darker, Hans Gottlieb would become aware that the day and its work were over, and would lay aside his chisel, and also seek what little fresh air there was at the door of the dwelling. He did not laugh or gossip with his neighbors, as did Rose Cordier ; it was not his way, and this fact was quite recognized by the dwellers in William street. Beyond a "good evening, neighbor," they did not seek to disturb him in the enjoyment of his evening pipe, only occasionally Rose would step across and ask him what he was at work upon, or if he had a good order, and then poor Hans, flushed all over his fair face, would, proceed to describe his work, his prospects, until Rose, with a pretty shrug of her shoulders, would tell him in her foreign German she could not understand him; he must speak slower, much slower; it was too late now, but to morrow, yes, to-morrow,' he must try and explain it all again, for it was interesting, so interesting. But for now it must be goodnight, "good , night to every one," and the slight, trim figure had disappeared, and the door was closed. The neighbors, watching Hans as he strolled up and and down the little street afterward, pipe in mouth, nodded and smiled to one auother. "Ah, when there is enough for two over yonder, there will be a wedding!" Such was the form the whispering took. Even the hardest workers take a holiday now and then, and the feast of St. John the Baptist is esteemed in Friedrichburgthe legitimate summer holiday of all its industrious inhabitants. The happy day is spent according to an old custom at a small village some three miles distant from the town, where a time-honored fair is held. Lion-Tamers, fat women, dwarfs, giants, all the hundred and one shows that are the ? ?^ n a Kn rigiJLiui uiupcity ui a iau aiu iv; uo ivuuw there, and later on there is dancing under the soft evening sky, and after that, home early, so as to be up and about on the morrow, to work, if possible, harder than ever, to make up for the wasted day. To Rose Cordier, with her quick French blood, her youth, her light hearcedness, this fete was one to whiah she looked forward for many weeks beforehand, and the little foreigner knew she was never likely to want a cavalier, and this was looked upon as almost a sine qua non of the entertainment. The neighbors smiled more than ever when they saw Rose come out of her door the morning of the 24th of June, looking as fresh and bright as the roses in her belt, and Hans appear immediately afterward, a companion rose in his buttonhole. They were all standing about in little groups preparing to start themselves to the scene of festivity ; many of them with babies iu their arms and little things clinging about their skirts, but they had time to give an ad- wl miring glance at this other couple first. he "Before we start," said Hans, suddenly, a in little constraint apparent in his voice, "would you come into my atelier, mademoiselle? I a ! have been working at something I should ro I like to show you." do "Yes, truly, I should like it. I have never bo been there yet. Let us go." They turned back as she spoke, and he flc pushed open the door. sa "See," he said, "it is not 6nished yet, but it gr is to be a wreath of roses." he He led her as he said these words to where, wf on one side, out of the way of dust and dirt, in; it lay?the half-completed circlet of carved co flowers. otl I "It is pretty," she said. And then, "Is a ] it an order? What will you get for it?" "No, it is not an order," he said, a Jittie ra sadly. "I have been doing it in the spare w( moments after my day's work." go "It is pretty," she repeated, touching with th her small fingers the delicate, curled leaves, al] which surely had the stamp of genius upon pa them ; "but it wants something," she added, th after a pause. se< "What?" he. inquired, eagerly. "I have looked at it so often that I can not find out bu whether it is right or wrong." ru "I know!" she exclaimed, triumphantly, no "Color! Ah, monsieur, if you could but see ho the wreath of roses I made last week for the Graffin von Adeldorf for a ball you would wc know what I mean. Oh !"?with a little ho clasp of her hands?"it was perfect! Per- sp feet as love!" Di Her thoughts had quite wandered away an from the delicate flowers before her; indeed, ne she did not remember them until they stood once more in the street, with the door closed sw behind them, when it came across her that an she might have been rude. wj "They are very pretty," she said softly, jf "but you see they are not finished yet. When be they are, perhaps, who knows, you might sell th; them." H; "Perhaps," he said. "I could try if you ]y wish it, but when I made them I thought"? to the color swept into his face?"that you be would like them." th< "Vm an T aKnnlrt if vnn were rich enoueh tot to give presents, or if?well, you will not tw mind speaking the truth to you ? You are of rather a dreamer, are you not? This is a bad thing," shaking ber pretty head. "It ow does not make a fortune, and money, you know, one must have. So take my advice? leave off carving things no one cares to buy, t]e and only do what you can sell. You are his not angry ?" ha "Angry," repeated Hans, "when you are so kind to take an interest in me and wish he me well! Why?" But here tbey had reach- be ed the merry, laughing crowd, and the spot th< where the omnibus was awaiting them, and the U8( rest of the sentence had perforce to await com- mj pletion at some future time. na And it was a sentence Hans had not in- th< tended to complete. Not yet. By and by C01 when there was a little more money in his pocket, and a home worthy of offering to a wife, then it would be time enough to finish he that sentence. But on this, as on other occa- mi sions, it was a case of "man proposes," at least so far as Hans was concerned, for, the long, joyful day over, and tired holiday-seekers beginning to consider the quickest way aQ home, he found himself under a soft, starry m sky walking townward by the side of Rose , Cordier. aiT "It would be pleasanter to walk," he had Q, said, standing by the crowded omnibus, filled ( with drowsy, crying children and wearied mothers. "Are you tired,.mademoiselle"? coj qft^r r sponnd's n&nse?"would vou rather %"wv" *" r " y ojji drive?" "No, I will couoe with you," she had re- ? plied ; "it will save the sous." c So they had started homeward together. And ere very long Hans found himself reverting to those unfinished words of the ? morning. , Love-making seemed so natural, so desira- ,? ble, under these circumstances, that it was . 11 difficult to think of waking up on the mor- el row to the hard day's work, and the knowl- ; ledge that where it is so difficult to keep one, . what would be done if there was yet an- ,ni other. ^ "It is selfish of me to ask you, Rose, when ^rj I have nothing to offer, but I am young, and strong, and willing to work?and I love you, qc Rose." wi Hans stood still as he spoke, and his voice ! trembled as he clasped the girl's small hand pr in his. ?<?) Rose was moved, too. The tears stood in ^ her bright eyes, her cheeks looked pale in starlight. a r "'Yes, dear Hans," she said, timidly, in ^ that sweet foreign tongue he had learned to , love, "but, you see?" , "Yes, I see. We could not live upon noth- ( ing. No, alas, no! But Rose"?the color jtl nn ir?frv Viics fonfl Ofroin oaVtP SfllH VlPRl tatingly, "we might be engaged? Could co, you?oh! I know it is asking a great deal, but could you wait for me ?" ,' "Ah, Hans, you must not think me unkind, e but?it would be so long, and?" There was . * no mistaking the girl's tones, even if the words 1 were a little vague. 0 "And there is Andre Leroux ?" , "He is from my country," cried the girl, a quickly, blushing a bright rosy red. "It is natural among strangers, I should like to see J' and talk to a countryman of ray own." "Yes, dear Rose, I am not blaming you. Do not think that. As you say, among stran- "r< gers, it is pleasant to meet #ne who speaks a your language. It must be often lonely for (or you." "Yes, Hans," Rose replied, brushing the ? tears out of her eyes. "If it were not for T.e you, I should find the little street but dull and f.n sad since my poor mother died. And, ah !" ? as they entered the said street, "here we are at home! How quickly we have come ! Good night, Hans." "u She stretched out her hand as she spoke, ou and again Hans took it in his, and looked aa down at the pretty face. tal "It is such a pity," she said softly, "that y? you have no mouey." es* "Such a pity," he echoed sadly, loosing her P? hand as he spoke. "e "And you are not angry with me?" she s?( went on. "Angry? no, certainly not. Why, I see, ve of course, you were right. It was silly of me m< to ask vou to wait; you might be an old ( woman before I had enough for us to marry 11 on ?" "Yes, dear Hans, it would never do. I cu knew you would agree with me when you at thought it over. But you will still remain we my friend ?" cr: "Always your friend, Rose. It does not 'ie matter, you know, how poor a friend, is." l)e Thus they parted; Rose to weep a few ^ tears, and then to fall asleep and dream of * ! Andre Leroux ; Hans to ponder over wheth* ai' er there was nothing to be done, nothing he W1 could do, to better his position. P? It was too difficult, more difficult in the W? prosaic light of day even, than when dreaming over it, pipe in mouth, in the soft summer evenings. sa Carving the letters of a dead friend's lil name?more often painting them ou common yo black wood, for the customers who sought out an the atelier of Hans Gottlieb were not often we well-to-do?is not a swift road to fortune. And although he was not proud, and after Li Rose's remarks about the time spent over the tei wreath of roses, which might perhaps have see been turned to better account, he had done a ; iat little odd jobs he could after working ? turs, still even then the little heaps of sav- { gs did not seem to increase much. And oftener and oftener now, Hans noted certain M. Andre Leroux come up the narw street of an evening, to walk up and ?wn in the twilight with his opposite neigh- j* ,r* a: Each time the sight of the spruce French wer-niaker?for Andre's trade was the me as Rose's?sent a throb of pain to the eat honest heart of Hans Gottlieb. But w did not repine, did not blame Rose. It jr a nno nf tV>o m?nv misfnrt.UnP.9 of not be- TV g rich, that was all. But not a cause for ft raplaining, only a burden, like so many jt hers that fall to the lot of the poor man? 8l part of bis day's work. e, It was not so often now that Rose Cordier n across in the gloaming to ask how his p >rk progressed, and the neighbors ceased to li ssip and nod their heads when they saw em speak to one another. "It was changed, ai I that they had thought likely to come to ci ss?the wind was in another quarter now? p ey could see, ah yes, it was not difficult to ir i what was coming/' p: Only the children did not forsake Hans, (] t were just as eager to talk with him and p n after him as in the days when there was fe spruce Frenchman to share with him the b nor of the narrow street. ai Then came a morning when Hans, as he p; >rked, saw a couple issue from the opposite ei use, followed by as many neighbors as could b are a holiday ; Rose, with a late Gloire de ri ijon in her belt, a bright color on her cheeks, p d her eyes shining with pride and happi- c< ss, and her hand on Andres arm. T "Good morning, Hans," she cried, in her le eet voice, as she passed his open door. "I oi I going to be married this morning, but we ti II not take the wedding holiday till Sunday, tl you can come, do." And then passed on fore there was a chance of saying more sc an "A happy future." That evening, as cc an8 worked at the rose-wreath?it was near- m completed now?he chanced to look across the window where he had so often seen the p< nt head and the trim figure. But to night b< 3 lamp was lit, for it soon grew dark now, ) soon for work to be relinquished with the bl ilipht. and on the blind was the reflection m O""' ? two beads and four busy hands. le Hans did not look again ; drew down his n blind then, and, with a sigh, went back 08 the carving of his delicate rose leaves. b' But after that evening he gave up his lit- or room, packed his few goods, and made up ai i mind to go away?to go to Rome, that 01 ven of ambitious minds. Now that the little savings were not all to er hoarded against the day when they might 01 wanted for another.it was no use guarding P* jm any more. Better, so Hans decided, to C 5 them in going away to where daily bread ght perhaps be easier come by than in this UI rrow German town ; where, perhaps, even or 3 carvings he was so fond of might gain him b? figenial work, and allow him to put on one te le this other work that occupied him now. Besides, if the worst came to the worst, and m did drift into utter poverty, it did not so ich matter now. ai And with that "now," Hans buried the ^ etaud started forth on his travels. ; First, however, he went across the street, 111 d for the' first time entered Rose's domain, me. Leroux, as he had to call her. "I have come to wish you good-bye, mad- ^ ie," he said. "And see, I have brought 1 u as a parting present the little wreath. It P1 finished now." He laid it down as he spoke among the ored roses on the table, between monsieur d madame as they sat at work. "Oh ! that is good of you, very good," cried >se, the ever-ready tears coming into her dl js. "And so you are going away? Ah! r husband," turning toward spruce, neat- ,WI ured M. Leroux, "thou must also wish in insieur Hans 'God-speed,' for in the old e.^ ys before I was married, he was always a 1,1 id friend to me. And see, also, what a w lutiful present he has brought us. At his wife's words M. Andre stood up. " "Monsieur is amiable, most amiable! Any Wl end of madame is dear to the heart of An- m 2 Leroux ! Let me wish you 'bon voyage' w d much prosperity." Then there was a cc ief farewell from Hans, a few tears from Y* >se, another bow from M. Andre, and ittlieb had departed, and the husband and 'u fe were left alone. tv "It is graceful, very, graceful," said the eE enchmau, lifting the parting gift of Hans. to ne would scarcely have thought his great ?? nds could have fashioned such a thing. *? hen it grows dark, dear wife, if you fetch ? lail and a piece of cord, I will myself at:h it to the wall!" "It is pretty," said his wife. "I always j.' jught so, but now, Andre, that I see it . long all these red roses, I am sure that what said of it at first is quite true?it wants ^ lor!" j! "You have it exactly, my wife," replied Lesour, with fond appreciation of Rose's verness. "That is just what it needs?but, m, we can not have everything." And M. * idre's gaze returned with much satisfaction ^ the crimson roses before him. It would have surprised this couple, per- 8U ps, if they could have seen on into the m ning years, if they could have listened to 2 words of a world-renowned collector of , } beauties of art. w CC [,UA Anlw /li/^ f?TA nf fKflm?" Q IVQQ orl. Xi t KJlllJ U1U HIU VI bilVUI ?iv ITUW **V* jssing some three or four eager listeners in ve London ball room?"the one that he did Lvieson, and which first made him famous. jQ >u never saw it? Why, it is marvelous! U( ie curl of the leaves, the very dew on the ^ sh petals ; it is wonderful. I would have ta ren him anything he asked for one like it. ea it, poor fellow, as you know that he was ce nous. al "However, when I was last in Friedrich- vt rg, his native town, and striving to find 0f t all I could about him?if he haddone p, ything before he went to Rome?there, in it wretched, narrow street, as I was telling cr u before, I found this facsimile of his great- w , work?a presant to a sweetheart, I sup- cj se. They had told me she knew him, that m used to live opposite to her, so I called to f0 i if I could glean anything about him, and cc ere, hanging up on the wall, I saw that g ry wreath that had been haunting me for gj mths!" b, "How did you persuade her to part with f0 ^ th "Ah ! Lady Grace, that was not very diffi- ai It?honest English gold. Her eyes glistenthe sight of it! Very pretty eyes they bi :re, too! She cried when I took it down, ti< ied when I told her Hans was dead. But r husband comforted her. 'See, my wife,' said, 'I will make for thee a wreath of so ese lovely roses of just the same size !?did ai ?ay they were artificial flower-makers?? w u will nang it up id lta piace, so tnat you in 11 not miss the other. And as to him, ol or fellow, life is difficult, and perhaps he is fe ill out of it. ul "So madame dried her tears. ' is " 'Ah ! that will be lovely,' I heard her tli y, as I carried ray treasure away, 'and I w :e the colored one best. And the money, cc u see, ray friend, is far better ; it will feed tli d clothe the children, whereas the wreath? ki ; could only look at it!' a "You are interested in it now, are you not, fo idy Grace? You will all come and have m i in my rooms to-morrow afternoon, and ar 3 the wreath of roses ? Poor fellow, what fo sad pity it was that he died so young!" si: j^iswUfltwrntis jgtadimj. POSTAL LAWS. Many changes have been made in the laws overning the "rating" of domestic mail raatir; admitting matter heretofore chargeable t letter rates, at reduced rates, as enuraera;d below. Mailable matter is divided into four classes. First class matter includes that which is in riting, or other matter containing a written iscription in the nature of personal corresondence, and matters which are sealed against ispection, and alone by their nature and the itent of the law, are first-class matter, and ik?A/v (-O loject 10 tile pusutj^i; mic ui unco vcuio 1UI ich half ounce or fraction thereof. Second-class matter embraces matter sent by ublishera and news dealers, hence is of but ttle interest to our readers. Third-class matter embraces books, printed tid blank, transient newspapers and periodica,circulars and Other matter wholly in print, roof-sheets, and corrected proof-sheets and lanuscript copy accompanying the same, rices current, with prices filled out in writing orovided such writing is not in the nature of ersonal corresjtondence), such as papers of igal proceedings, deeds of all kinds, way bills, ills of lading, invoices, insurance policies, nd the various documents of insurance comanies, handbills,posters, chromolithographs, agravings, envelopes with printing tnereon, pliotypes, lithographs,'photographic and steoscopic views, with title written thereon, rinted blanks, printed cards, postage one ?nt for each two ounces or fraction thereof, here may be placed upon the cover or blank saves of any book or of any printed matter f the third-class a simple manuscript dedicaon or inscription that does not partake of ie nature of a personal correspondence. All packages of third-class matter must be i wrapped with open sides or ends that their intents may be readily examined by postasters. The limit of weight of packages is four rnnds except in cases of single volumes of )oks in excess of said weight. Mailable matter of Ike fourth-class embraces auk cards, card board and other flexible aterial, flexible patterns, letter envelopes and tter paper without printing thereon, mer landise, models, ornamented paper, sample irds, ores, metals, minerals, seeds, cuttings, jibs, roots, scions, drawings, plans, designs, iginal paintings in oil or water colors, and iy other matter not included in the first, secid or third classes, and which is not in its rm or nature liable to destroy, deface, or othwise damage the contents of the mail bag, harm the person of any one engaged in the istal service. Postage rate thereon, one :nt for each ounce or fractional part thereof. Other articles of the fourth class which, iless properly secured, might destroy, deface ' otherwise damage ch@ contents of the mailig, must be very securely wrapped and procted. The following come under the head of unailable: Liquids,poisons,explosive and inflammable 'tides, putty, substances (easily liquefiable, ?e or dead animals (not stuffed}, insects and ptiles, fruits, or vegetable matter, confecjnery, pastes or confections and substances :haling a bad odor ; and every letter upon e envelope of which, or postal card upon hich indecent or obscene delineations, epiets, terms or language may be wrttten or inted. are not mailable. Mailable mutter of the first, third and urth classes can -be registered. 4* ? DEATH OF HON. WM. ALLEN. Mr. Allen was self-made, of more than ornary ability, and as a public man for many iars occupied a conspicuous position. He as born at EdeDton, Cbowan cobnty N. C., 1806, early losl; his parents, and then driftl to Lynchburg, Va., where he remained un11822, working as a saddler's apprentice, hen he determined to go to Chilicothe, Ohio, here his half sister, the mother of the Hon. lien G. Thurman, resided. Young Allen as poorly educated, but self-reliant, and he ade almost the entire trip on foot, in midiuter, through frequent snows and intensely ild weather, having as a companion a dro;r, and this for only a portion of the distance, n arriving at Chilicothe his sister placed m in the academy there, where he remained ro years and then, at eighteen years of age, itered a lawyer's office; He was admitted practice before he was twenty-one years of je, and before reaching the age of twentyur had achieved considerable reputation as lawyer, particularly in criminal cases. In133 he received the Democratic nomination r Congress in a District that was Whig by 500 to 2,000 majority, but he made a brilint cauvass and was elected by one majority a vote of 1U,UUU. At tne next eiecuoD r. Allen was defeated by a small majority, it ran 1,500 votes ahead of his ticket. In 137, when only thirty-one years of age, he as elected to the United States Senate and ok his seat March 4th, where he became leader. Just before the expiration of his rra he went directly before the people of hio as a candidate for reelection. The re- i It was that the Democrats had a handsome ajority in the legislature, and Mr. Allen as reelected without opposition. In the emocratic National Convention of 1848, hich met in Baltimore, so bitter was the mtest between the friends of Cass and Van uren, the leading candidates, that, to promt a division, a committee, composed of men om both factions, waited -on Senator Allen Washington and urged him to accept the jmination for the Presidency, but he persisntly refused to allow his name to be used, king the ground that as he had been an .rnest advocate of Cass' nomination, to acpta nomination himself would be a betrayof his friend. He afterwards made a can iss of New York and Pennsylvania in favor ' Mr. Cass. Mr. Allen then retired from iblic life, from which he did not emerge ;ain until 1874, when he ran as the Demoatic candidate for Governor of Ohio, and as elected by about 1,000 majority, his assoates on the State ticket all suffering defeat, 'r. Allen was again the Democratic nominee r Governor in 1876, but after a memorable mtest was defeated by Gen. Rutherford B. ayes, now President of the United States, ince then he has been in political retiracy, .it was understood to be in vigorous health r one of his years. Mr. Howard Carroll, of ie New York Times, who recently published ) extended interview with Mr. Allen, closed f speaking of him as "the sometimes bitter, it always faithful partisan, the honest polician, the statesman of the olden times." Long and"ShortSleepers.?Seamen and ldiers, from habit, can sleep when they will id wake when they will. Captain Barclay, hen performing his wonderful feat of walkg 1,000 miles in as many consecutive hours, itained such a mastery over himself that he 11 asleep the minute he lay down. The facIty of remaining asleep for a length of time possessed by some individuals. Such was ie case with Quin, the celebrated player, ho would slumber for twenty-four hours sueissively; with Elizabeth Orvin, who slept iree fourths of her life; with Elizabeth Perins, who slept for a week or a fortnight at time; with Mary Lyell, who did the same r successive weeks ; and with many others, ore or less remarkable. A phenomenon of i opposite character is sometimes observed, r there are other individuals who can subit on a surprisingly small portion of sleep. The celebrated General Elliot was an instance 1 of this kind ; he never slept more than four t hours out of the twenty-four. In all other i respects he was strikingly abstinent, his food consisting wholly of bread, water and vege- c tables. In a letter communicated to Sir t John Sinclair by John Gordon, Esq., of Swine, c mention is madie of a person named John g Mackey, of Skerry, who died in Strathnave, t in the year 1797, aged ninety one ; he only i slepton an avei-age of four hours in the twen- t ty-four, and was a remarkably robust and t healthy man. Frederick the Great, of Prus- 1 sia, and the illustrious surgeon, John Hunter, 1 only slept five hours during the same period, f The celebrated French General, Pichegro, in- a formed Sir Gilbert Blaine that during a whole 1 year's campaign he had not allowed himself c ahove one hour's sleeD in the twentv-four. v " I THE DREAD OF DYING. The dread of pain which makes us shrink s from the prospect of mortal illness is quite a i different thing from the real instinctive dread i of it. It should, and often does, act pow- d erfully in reconciling us to the prospect of death. In like manner, the unwillingness to be taken away from life in its fullness, to be cut t off from the enjoyment of bright prospects, a and debarred from the satisfaction of that ? ever deepening curiosity with which every ao- 1 tive mind must behold the mysterious drama r going on around us, this unwillingness is quite a a distinct feeling from the shrinking of the a flesh and spirit from dissolution. It is a feel- v ing which should, in reason, belong in its full f force only to those who look upon death as b the end of all things, and for whom, therefore, I it should at least have no terrors. Is it some I mysteriously intent appetite, or an inveterate v confusion of thought, which binders most J people from perceiving that not to exist can- s not be, in the slightest degree, painful or even 6 unpleasant ? If, on the other hand, we regard death merely as s. transition from one state of t existence to another (and to an existence pos- f sibly of infinite duration), we open the door v to all extremes of glorious or fearful expec- v tation, and the event itself shrinks into insig- * nificance. From this point of view, as well o as from the former, though for such differ- h ent reasons, the important question is not ? how we die, but how we live. Religion and n philosophy, on different grounds, combine to ^ press upon us the continuity and mutual de- b pendence of successive "dispensations" or "developments." We cannot conceive of, much c less really believe in, any state of existence in a which we have any interest wholly disconnected with our interests in this life. The laws h which regulate the world we know must be in f< some degree, the laws of any world in which e we can conceive of ourselves as existing and c retaining our identity, and it is hard to un- r derstand how any rational being can find a w fancied safety in the mere delay of an inevit- a able crisis. Of course, the theological origin a of such a fancy is familiar enough, but the 0 result is, I think, as unworthy of its own re- b ligious basis as it is of our human dignitv. b To suppose that we have any reasonable t' ground of confidence for this life either in or a apart from an Almighty Being whom we can- h not trust with our destiny in the next, is cer- h tainly not more foolish than it is faithless, h Our hopes for this world and for the next, a must rest upon one foundation?our faith must be equally prepared for trials in respect of both. Either death leads to nothing at g( all, and to fear it is unmeaning; or it is a g) mere Darenthesis. and to fear it is unworthy j, of those who believe in a righteous order.? Gornhill Magazine. t] HAIR OF THEPBESIDENTS. ? ' In the Patent Office, at Washington, there !' are many objects connected with the governraentand those who administered its affairs 0 in times gone by. While examining some ^ of those objects of curiosity, nothing struck us so forcibly as the samples of small locks . of hair taken from the heads of different chief magistrates from Washington down to President Pierce, secure in a frame covered with ^ glass. Here is, in fact, a part and parcel of ^ what' once constituted the living bodies of those illustrious individuals whose names are ^ as familiar as household words, but who now live only in history and the remembrance' of ^ the past. The hair of Washington is nearly a pure ^ white, fine and smooth in its appearance. That of John Adams is nearly the same in " color, though perhaps a little coarser. The hair of Jefferson is of a different char- gj acter, being a mixture of white and auburn, or a sandy brovro and rather coarse. In his I youth, Mr. Jefferson's hair was remarkable 1 for its gloss. . The hair of Madison is coarse, and of a , mixed white and dark. The hair of Monroe is a handsome, dark auburn, smooth and free from any admix- . ture whatever. He is the only President ex- 1 cepting Pierce, whose hair had undergone no u change in color. * The hair of John Quincy Adams is somewhat peculiar, being coarse, and of a yellowish gray in color. P The hair of General Jackson is almost a perfect coarse in its character, as might be ? supposed, by those who have examined the ^ portraits of the old hero. , * The hair of Van Buren is white and smooth , in appearance. .. Tko Vkoit* nf CJonorol TTarriann i? A fine white, with a slight admixture of black. The hair of John Tyler is a mixture of 36 white and brown. , The hair of James K. Polk is almost a pure white. b The hair of General Taylor is white, with j a slight admixture of brown. d; The hair of Millard Fillmore is, on the C( other hand, brown, with a slight admixture ? of white. tl The hair of Franklin Pierce is a dark p brown, of which he had a plentiful crop. vv It is somewhat remarkable, however, that ^ since Pierce's time no one has thought of f( preserving the hair of his successors. Thereare a] vacancies in the case, but 'there is no hair C) either of Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson or y Grant, for the inspection of futurity. ? b Two Pig Stories.?A Kansas farmer, w who breeds pigs on a large scale, narrates the w following: h Once I had a couple of sows, each of which ^ raised me nine pigs. I let the little ones run u out (it was gmsshopper year and they could ^ hurt nothing.) Kansas was considerably pes- x tered with wolves that year, and my neigh-* a! bora predicted that I would lose my pigs. I 0, met them all over the neighboring country, jr but at sundown they were generally at home. r J x, xi_:_i_ ? x usea 10 muijk. tucjr wcic iuu&j, uum vuw day, while shooting prairie chickens, I saw a 3j wolf dancing around in the grass in a very d peculiar manner. I watched him from a dis- d tance, but could not comprehend his behavior, tj So I walked toward him, and, by taking ad- ^ vantage of a ravine, was able to get within jt forty yards of the beaut. Lying down behind ^ a bunch of blue joint grass, I looked on. The 0; coyote had found my eighteen pigs, then some ti four months old, aud wanted one for dinner. 0] The pigs, objecting, had formed a circle with ol their heads out, and were bravely grunting ? defiance. The wolf was running around them, g snapping his jaws, and doing all in his power to frighten a faint-hearted pig out of the cir- n cle. The compact ring of sturdy little black }r porkers slowly moved down the road, never faltering, but constantly keeping up their war ? grunts. As they passed me at about twentyfive yards, I rebuked the coyote with an i ounce of No. 10 bird shot. He suddenly 01 ost interest in pork, and retired to the hills o hunt jack-rabbits. I never had any anxety about ray pigs after that. Once I built a pen for 100 stock hogs by a leep pond of water. I ran the fence out into he pond to where the water was five feet leep; then I took logs and, chaining them toother, stretched them between the ends of he fence. This made a pen with a big pond n it, and the pigs could not get out unless hey dived under the logs. I was raised in he belief that a pig could not swim. The logs were driven to the pen, put in, and as I lad self-feeding corn bins that were full, I lattered myself that I was rid of the pereon,1 care of those hogs until butchering time, rhe result was that they became such expert livers that they were never in the pen. They vould swim out to the log and dive under, f I went to the pen on horseback, accompalied by my dog, I would gather them up, by etting the dog on them, make them all jump nto the pond, swim to the log, plunge under t and swim ashore into their pen. There the log dared not follow. napoleoVtme great. A little while ago I stood by the grave of he old Napoleon, a magnificent tomb of gilt md gold, fit almost for a dead deity, and ;azed upon the sarcophagus of black Egypian marble, where rests the last ashes of the estless man. I leaned over the ballustrade ,nd thought about the career of the greatest oldier of the modern world. I saw him talking on the banks of (he Seine, content dating suicide. I saw him at Toulon?I saw tim putting down the mob in the streets of 5aris?I saw him at the head of the army of taly?I saw him crossing the bridge at Lodi nth the tricolor in bis hand?I saw him in Dgypt in the shadows of the Pyramids?I aw him conquer the Alps and mingle the agles of France with the eagles of the crags. I saw him at Marengo, at Ulm and Auserlitz. I saw him in Russia, where the inantry of the snow and the cavalry of the rild blast scattered his legions like winter's withered leaves. I saw him at Leispic in de??+ ? /liooafnK A MTTfln KtT O mil 11 Afl hflV. cab aliu uioaonvi u?i?vu ?? u?i*??vh nets back upon Paris, clutched like a wild least, banished to Elba. I saw hiin escape nd retake the empire by the force of bis geius. I saw him upon the frightful field of Varterloo, where chance and fate combined o wreck the fortunes of the former king. Lnd I saw him at St. Helena, with his hands rossed behind him, gazing out upon the sad nd solemn seas. I thought of the orphans and widows he ad made?of the tears that had been shed )r his glory, and of the only woman who ver loved him, pushed from his heart by the old hand of ambition. And I said I would ather have been a French peasant and worn rooden shoes. I would rather have lived in hut, with a vine growing over the door, nd the grapes growing purple in the kisses f the autumn sun. I would rather have een that poor peasant, with my loving wife y my side knitting as the day died out in be sky?with my children upon my knees nd their arms about- me. I would rather ave been that mac and gone down in tongueiss silence of the dreamless dust, than to ave been that imperial personation of force nd murder, known as Napoleon the Great. Advice to a Young Man?A Gradute, for Instance.?And then remember, )n, that the world is older than you are, by iveral years ; that for thousands of years it as been so full of smarter and better young len than yourself that their feet stuck out of be dormer windows; that when they died the Id globe went whirling on, and not one man j ten million went to the funeral or even eard of the death. Be as smart as you can, f course. Know*as much as you can, withnt hlnwina the nackinp out of vour cvlinder -w - - 0 I o - # w cads; shed the light of jour wisdom abroad 1 the world, but don't dazzle people 'with it. Lad don't imagine a thing is so simply be* a use you-say it is. Don't be too sorry for our father because he knows so much less ban you do; rememember the reply of Dr. Vayland to the student of Brown university, 'ho said it was easy enough to make proerbs such as Solomon wrote. "Make a few," irsely replied the old man. And we never eard that the young man made any. Not lore than two or three, anyhow. The world as great need of young men, but no greater eed than young men have of it. Your lothes fit you better than your father's fit im; they cost more money, they are more iylish, your mustache is neater, the cut of our hair is better, and you are prettier, oh, ir prettier, than "pa." But, young man, the Id gentleman gets the biggest salary, and his omely, scrambling signature on the business nd of a check will drain more money out of le bank in five minutes than you could get ut with a ream of paper and a copper plate gnature iq six months. Young men are seful, son, and they are ornamental, and e all love them, and we couldn't engineer picnic successfully without them. But ley are not novelties, son, Oh, no, nothing f the kind. They have been here before. >on't be so modest as to shut yourself clear ut; but don't be so fresh you will have to e put away in the cool to keep from spoiling. >on't be afraid that your merit will not be iscovered. People all over the world are unting for you, and if you are worth finding, ley will find you. A diamond is not so ealy found as a quartz pebble, but people ;arch for it all the more intently. GEN. BUTLER* IN COLLEGE. v Another of our pranks in college was the reaking-up of an abolition meeting. The luglish philanthropist who died the other ay, George Thompson, was to speak in the allege town. The students shared the com? * ' ? j nr. ion reeling against me goou man. ?re lought he was abusing Americans, and our atriotic pride rebelled at this. We did not ant to get into a scrape ; so, after debating le matter for several nights, we hit upon the illowing plan: We went into the country ad psrid an old farmer fifty cents to let us itch in his barn all the swallows we wanted, ye got a dozen or so, and the night of the leeting a number of us were present, distriuted judiciously about the room, each boy ith a swallow in bis pocket. The church as lighted with old-fashioned chandeliers, olding each three or four whale-oil lamps, it a given signal, when the services "were nder way, the swallows were let loose; in le twinkling of an eye out-went the lights, he birds, of course, went for the lights, ud the rush of air caused by their wings put ut the lights. We kissed a girl or two, ?the dark, and they of course shrieked. All was commotion and confusion for a few linutes. Then the moderator demanded lence, said that some unaccountable accient had put out the lights, but that the au ience must sit quiet and preserve order, ana le lamps would soon be lighted. The sex>n hurried away for a torch?there were no icifer-matches in those days?ana presently e came into the church, holding it in front f his face and shielding it with one hand ; je swallows of course went for the light, and ae of them struck the candle, knocking it ut of the old man's hand and into his face, re tumbled back, gave a yell of fright, and athered himself up, took to his heels, vowlg there were spirits there sure. The crowd, ow frightened in earnest, the students lead'g> got out of the church in a hurry, and le abolition meeting was at an end.?B. F. tutUr, in a recent interview. ? I6f Beware of those who brag of their piety r honesty. Fishes op the Deep Sea.?At a recent meeting of the Christiania 8ociety of Science, Mr. RoDert Collett stated that the deep-water fishes collected during the last Atlantic expedition amounted to thirty-three species, and 1 proved to be of great interest to science, as the fish had, with a few exceptions, been taken from depths from which no Arctic fishes had previously been obtained. The apparatus employed was the so-called trawl net, constructed on the same principle as that employed by the English fishermen on Doggersbank. Fish were taken up with that apparatus from depths of 1,400 and 1,500 fathoms. Five species proved to be entirely new to science, and it was necessary to olassify one of them under a new genius. This was caught at a depth of 1,200 fathoms, and was about one foot long. While alive it was beautifully rose-colored all over, but of so soft and gelatinous a substance that it was half transparent, and the heart could be seen performing its functions; and large portions of the brain, the entrails and the whole back Aiirvli fKo akin. ah uuuo rr?o vioiuio w.uu^u dorainal fins were transformed into two long, split threads, which gave the fish a very peculiar appearance. It was named KKodichitys Regina, and belongs to a group of the genuine deep-water fishes which is chieffly limited to the tropic seas. Among the other species several were known only through single specimens scattered here and there in museums and the descriptions of which are generally incorrect and defective. The genuine Arctic genus Lycodet, of which, up to the present time, only a few specimens have been found near Greenland and in other places in the Polar Sea (almo6t always taken by chance from the stomachs of sharks), appeared to exist in quantities everywhere at these great depths, where the temperature of the water is under zero. It has only been the lack of suitable apparatus which has until now prevented the discovery. s Women in the IJabt.?The Mohammedans nearly all believe that woman has no soul. This is not taught in the Koran, but is countenanced by the fact that, in the great prophet's paradise, houris are given to the faithful instead of their earthly wives. The Chinese make slaves of the. women, in this world, and deny them any hope of compensation hereafter. In western Australia female children are always betrothed a few days after their birth ; and should the first husband die before the girl attains her maturity, she belongs to his heir. In New Zealand if a girl's future husband should die no other man can make a proposal to her. Among me mnuooa wiuuwb may uui> many ngam. In China the parents bargain for the marriage of their children while they are yet unborn. The New Hollanders steal their wives; and if a woman attempts to escape from her cap* tor, he at once thrusts a spear through the fleshy part of her leg or thigh. Of all methods of obtaining a wife that of purchase is the most universal. It is practiced by the African, by the black and brown races of the' Indian Archipelago,'and by nearly all the nations of Asia. The Circassian women prefer being sent to Constantnoble to be sold. In Siam and Cochin-China < men invariably purchase their wives; brt the women have one privilege?the parents cannot sell them without their will. In China, however, women are sold without being consulted on the subject, and have to obey every one in the family of her purchaser, without , ^ exception?the husband's control over her being entirely unlimited. Iq Japan presents are made to the bride, who transfers them to her relatives, to defray the expense and trouble they incurred "in bringing her up from infancy.?Oriental Journal. Hints to Bathers.?The Royal Humane Society of England has issued the following seasonable advice to bathen: "Avoid bathing within two hours after a meal, or when exhausted by fatiguge or from any other cause, or when the body is cooling after perspiration, and avoid bathing altogether in the open air if, after being a short time in the water, there is a sense of chilliness, with numb- J ness of the bands and feet, but bathe when the body is warm, provided no time is lost in getting into the water. Avoid chilling the body by sitting or standing undressed on the banks or in boats, after having been in the water, or remaining too long in the water, hut leave the water immediately if there is the slightest feeling of chillness. The vigorous ana strong may bathe early in the morning on an empty stomach, but the young and those who are weak had better bathe two or three hours after a meal; the best time for such is from two to three hours after breakfast. Those who are subject to attacks of giddiness or faihtness, and who suffer from An/1 aIUa* aonoa f\P ^io/*ATnfnH: af. paipiutuuu auu umici ovuov v? ? the heart, should not bathe without first consulting their medical Adviser." After bathing a vigorous use of the towel is very beneficial, and should be followed when necessary by moderate exercise till a gentle reaction sets in. The old notion about the danger of plunging into cold water when the body, is heated has long ago been exploded. In feet it is now clearly established that the colder the water the hotter should be the bather. Fever patients it is well known never take cold even if wholly immersed for brief intervals in ice water. If the body is not already in a vigorous glow, bathing is sure to do more harm than good. , Josh Billings on Marriage.?Sum. marry bekase thev think wimmin will be scarce next year, and live to wonder how the crop holds out. Sum marry to get rid of themselves, and discover that the game was one that two could play at, and neither win. Sum marry for love without a cent in their pocket, nor a friend in the world, nor a drop of pedigree. This looks desperate, but it is the strength of the game. Sum marry in haste, and then set down and think it carefully over. ? Sum thinks it over carefully fust, and then set down and marry. No man kan tell jist exactly whar he will fetch up when he touches calico. No man kan tell jist exactly what calico has made up her mind tew do.- Calico don't know herself. Dry goods of all kinds iz the child of circumstancis. Marriage is a safe way tew gamble^ if you win, you win a pile, and if you lose, you don't lose any thing. * + tag* It is generally supposed that England is the richest nation in the world, but late estimates place France at the head in point of wealth. France values her private property, real and personal, at $43,110,600,000, and her navy, palaces, public buildings and other property, excepting highways, at $1,475,000,000, making a total of $44,535,600,000. A similar estimate for England is $42,500,000,000. Real estate in France greatly exceeds in area that of England, but the personal property is much less. m Prince Victor Napoleon, the seventeenyear-old son of Prince Jerome, and the new heir to the Bonapartist idea, is rather tall, handsome and straight as a dart; dark in hair, cheek and eye; and in temper and temperament a true Corsican-Italian. His features are regular, his hair is trained over bis brow and cropped, and he has his mother's mouth," though not the peculiar nose of the House of Savoy. He is said to be a thorough Napoleon in looks, in character, and in a certain fieryimpetuosity of temper.