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1 "VOL. 25. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 11, 187SC NO. 5C>7~ 1
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ADVENTURE WITH A LUNATIC.
AN ENGLISH STORY.
?!?.
Alf. Dixon, Tom Giffard and I had gone
up the river camping out; we had done our
second day's work. It was early morning on
r the third day, glorious weather. I was in the
[ boat,getting the steering lines in order; Gif
fard and Dixon were on the bank, talking to
Dr. Rawle. As I understood it, he was at
the head of a private asylum for lunatics.
He was Giffard's friend, not mine. He had
been taking a constitutional when he happened
to fall in vsitb us just as we were sitting
down to our open air breakfast; the chance
meeting led to Giffard inviting him to share
our gypsy meal. He did. He was a pleasant
fellow, not too old and not too young. I
liked him exceedingly. We talked of things
io peneral..and of lunatics in particular.
Something led to his mentioning?I think it
was speaking of the cunning of a certain class
* of lunatics, and the difficulty of keeping fhera
within four walls?the fact that one of his inmates
had escaped a day or two previously,
and had not yet been retaken. This was the
more singular, as it was tolerably certain he
had not gone far, and search had been made
for him in every direction.
As GifFard and Dixon were saying good-by,
preparatory to getting into the boat, the doctor
laughingly said, "Should you happen to
come across him, 1 shall consider you bound
to bring him back safe and sound. He's a
man of forty-four or five, tall and bony, irongray
hair, and has a curious habit of showing
his teeth and winking his left eye. Don't look
out for a raving lunatic, for, on most points,
he's as right as you and I. He's wrong in two
things. Whatever you do, don't let him lose
his temper, for whenever he does, though ever
so slightly, he invariably goes in for murder;
he's all but done for two keepers already.
And don't talk to him of England or Englishmen,
for if he should get upon his native
land, he'll favor you with some observations
which will make you open your eyes."
We laughed. Alf and Tom shook hands
with him and got into the boat. We promised
if we should happen to me^t with him, we
would certainly see him returned to safe custody.
Alf stood up and shoved us from the
shore,* we sang out a last good-by, and left
the doctor standing on the bank.
* It was a beautiful morning. The river was
" delicious, clear as crystal; we could see the
bottom, and every stone and pebble on it;
just a gentle breeze, fanning the surface of the
waters into a ripple. We lit our pipes and
took it easily. I am a good bit of a traveler,
know many lovely nooks and crannies in foreign
lauds. I have lived abroad as much as
at home; but I will match the higher reaches
of our own Father Thames for beauty and
for charm against any scenery in Europe; and
on an early summer morning, after a spell of
glorious weather, it is in all its prime; the
?otoi? Iq nnnl an nWr the hanks so irreen. so
T*UVVt IU VVV4) W V?V?v> J ? ^ #
charming; the stately trees on either side;
the mansions seen over the meadows, or peeping
out among the tree3. You may choose
your Rhine, Garda, or your Maggoire, or your
golden Bay of Naples, but leave Cookham
and old Father Thames to me.
Presumably, wil had dome for river beauties
and the camping out. Presumably ; but as a
matter of fact, there was a young lady living
not so far ahead, a mutual friend, Lilian
Travers. Separately and jointly we had a
- high opinion of Miss Travers, not only of her
beauty, but of other things as well; and hav
ing come so far, we hoped we should not have
to return until, at least, we had a peep at her.
Unfortunately, though we knew Miss Travers,
we had no acquaintance with Mister?there
was no Missis. We had met the young lady
at several dances, and such like; but on each
f occasion she was under the chaperonage of old
Mrs. Mackenzie. Apparently, Mr. Travers
wa3 not a party man. But Lilian had promised
to introduce us to him whenever she got
' a chance, and we were not unhopeful she would
get that chance now. So, you see, that little
excursion riverward had more in it than met
the eye.
We went lazily on, just dipping the oars in
and out, smoking and watching the smoke
circling through the clear air. All thoughts
of the doctor and his parting words had gone
from our minds. We talked little and that
little was of Lilian, and the chances of our
meetiug. We had gone some two or three
hundred yards; we were close to the shore;
f A If could almost reach it by stretching oui
his oar. We were dreaming and lazing, when
suddenly some one stepped out from among
the trees. He was close to us?not a dozen
feet away. *
fs. He was a tall man, rather over than under
\8ix feet. He was dressed in a dark brown suit
of Oxford mixture; he had a stick in his
hand, wore a billy-cock hat,aud his coat was
\ buttoned right up to his throat. He had
I light whiskers, a heavy, drooping moustache,
Viair unusually long, iron-gray in color. He
lijight be a soldier, retired from his profession,
or^an artist out painting; he certainly looked
L likye a gentleman.
V V^e were passing on, when he raised his
' stick\and shouted out, "Stop!"
It was a regular shout, as though we were
half a mile from him. We stopped, although
it was an unusual mode of calling attentiun.
"Gentlemen," he said, still at the top of his
voice, "I should be obliged if you could give
me a seat. I have a long way to go and I am
tired:"
We looked at him and at each other. It
was a free and easy way of asking a favor;
but he seemed a gentleman, and an elderly
one, too. Common politeness dictated civility.
"I am afraid," said Alf, "we have hardly
room ; she is only built for three."
"O, that doesn't matter," he said ; "you can
put me anywhere, or I'll take an oar for one
* of you."
I was on the point of advising a point-blank
refusal, not appreciating his off-hand manner;
but Alf thought differently.
"All right," said he; "we don't mind, if
you don't. Steer her in, Jack."
T ofiaorprl her in. No sooner were we near
the shore, than quite unexpectedly he stepped
almost on ray toes, rocking the boat from side
to side.
"Hang it!" I said ; "take care, or you'll
have us over."
"What if I do?" he returned. "It'll only
be a swim ; and who minds a swira in weathci
like this?"
We stared at him ; the coolness, not to say
impertinence, of the remark was amazing,
Begging a seat in our boat, knowing it was
full, and then telling us he didn't care if he
spilt us into the river! He seated himself by
me, setting the boat seesawing again, crushing
me into a corner; and, without asking
your leave, or by your leave, took the steering-lines
from my hauds and slipped them
over his shoulders.
"Excuse me," I said, making a snatch al
them ; "but if you'll allow me."
"Not at all," he said ; "I always like some
thing to do, and I expect you've had enough
of it."
His coolness was amusing; he was irapene
trable. I know I for one regretted we were
such mules as to have anything to do with
him. We waited in silence a moment or two
"Come," he said, "when are you going tc
start ?"
^ ? ^^^^said Alf, a*bit nettled, as you're
in our bofci a self-invited guest, you'll let us
choose our oT*ji time."
The stranger .said nothing; he sat stolid
and silent. Tom'and Alf set off/owing; the
stranger steered right across the stream.
"Where are you going ?" said Alf. "Keep
us in."
"I am going into the shade; the sun's too
strong."
He had the lines ; we could hardly insist
-on his keeping one side if he preferred the
other ; he took us right to the opposite bank,
under the shadow of the willow trees. For
some minutes neither of us spoke. With him
cramming me on my seat and ramming his
elbows into ray side, my position was not
pleasant. At last I let him know it.
"I don't know if you are aware you are occupying
all my seat."
He turned on me short and sharp. All at
once I noticed his left eye going up and down
like a blinking owl; his mouth was wide open,
disclosing as ugly a set of teeth as I should
care to see. Like a flash Dr. Kawle's words^
crossed my mind; tall, strong, about fortyfive,
iron-gray hair, and a habit of chewing
his teeth ayd winking his left eye. Gracious
powers! was it possible we had a lunatic with
us unawares? I know the possibility, nay,
the probability of such a thing made me feel
more than queer. If there is anything in the
world I instinctively fear, it is mad persons.
I know little of them ; have never been in
their company. Possibly my ignorance explains
my dread; but the idea of sitting in
the same boat and on the same seat with a
man who?
Dr. Rawle's warning, "Don't let him lose
his temper, or murder will ensue," made me
bound from my seat like Jack-in-the-box. The
boat tipped right out of the water, but I
didn't care. The man was glaring at me with
cruel eyes; my muscles were strung, my fists
clenched ; every moment I expected him at
my throat ?
"What in the dickens are you up to ?" said
Alf. "What's the matter with you ?"
"0, excitable temperament, hot-blooded
youth !" said the stranger.
I could have said something had I chosen,
but I preferred discretion ; I did not like his
eyes.
"N-o thing," I said. "I think I'll sit in the
bow." I didn't wait to learn if any one had
an objection, but swinging round, I scrambled
past Alf, and tripped full length on to Tom's
knees. The boat went up and down like a
swing; it was a miracle Jie wasn't over.
"To fko ^OIIATO moA 9" rAoro/1 A IF
JLO 1/11*2 loiiun 1UUU i ivwiutt A*
At the word "mad," the stranger rose up
straight as a post. "Mad !" he said ; "do you
know, fair?" He checked himself and sat
down. "Pooh ! he's only a boy."
In passing Tom, I whispered in his ear.
"The lunatic," I said.
"What!" said Tom, right out loud.
"How your row, you confounded donkey!
It's the man from Dr. Rawle's!"
"The?"
He was going to say something naughty?I
know he was; but he stopped short, and stared
at him with all his eyes. Either Alf overheard
me, or ebe the same idea occurred to
him at the same moment, for he stopped dead
in the middle of a stroke and inspected the
man on the steering seat. Tom and Alf went
ou staring at him for a minute or more. I
kept my head turned the other way to avoid
his eyes. All at once I felt the boat give a
great throb. I turned ; there was the stranger
leaning half out his seat, looking at Alf
in a way I shouldn't have cared to have him
look at me.
. "What's the meaning of this insolence?"
he said.
The question was not unwarranted; it
could not have been pleasant to have been
stared at as Alf and Tom werestariug at him.
"I beg your pardon," said Alf, cool as a
cucumber. "To what iusolence do you refer
?"
Tom actually chuckled ; I couldn't have
chuckled for a good deal; it seemed to me not
only impudent, but risky; I couldn't forget
i r> i_? .1. _i A i_;_ i *
ur. rvawie s worus auoui ins uuiuiuiuai tendencies.
He turned red as a lobster ; I never
saw such an expression come over a man's
face before?perfectly demoniacal. To ray
surprise, he sat down and spoke as calmly
and deliberately as possible.
"Thank you," he said, "I shall not forget
this."
There was a sound about his "I shall not
forget this," I did not relish. Alf said nothing.
Tom and he set off rowing as coolly as
though nothing had happened. I extemporized
a seat in the bow, and tried to make
things as comfortable as possible.
I noticed, although Alf and Tom were so
cool, they hardly took their eyes off him for
more than a second at a time. His behavior
before their furtive glances was peculiar; he
saw he was being watched; he couldn't sit
still; he looked first at one bank, then at the
other; his eyes traveled everywhere, resting
nowhere; his hauds fidgeted and trembled ;
he seemed all of a quiver. I expected him
to break into a paroxysm every second. If I
hadn't called out, he would have run us right
into the shore; when I called, he clutched
the other string violently, jerking the boat almost
round. I heartily wished him at Jericho
before he had come near us.
No one spoke. We went slowly, along,
watching each other. At last he said something.
"I?I will get out," he said, in an odd,
nervous way.
"With pleasure," said Alf, "in a few rain|
utes."
"Why not now? Why not now, sir?" he
, said, seeming to shake from head to foot.
"Where are you going to get?into the
river ?"
I admired Alf's coolness, I envied hira.
I oniy hoped he wouldn't let it carry him too
far.
The man glowered at him ; for a moment
he looked him full in the face. I never saw
a look in a man's eyes like that in his. Alf
! returned him look for look. Slightly, almost
| imperceptibly, he quickened his stroke. A
j little down was a little hamlet with a well|
known inn and a capital landing stage.
! When we came alongside, the stranger said :
' | "This will do; I'll get out here."
We turned tne Doat inenore. i>o sooner
were we near enough, than he rose in his seat
and sprang on to the beach. There were sevi
eral people about, watermen and others. Alf
| was after him in an instant; he rose almost
simultaneously and leaped on shore; he
i touched him on the shoulder.
J "Now come," he said, "don't be foolish;
; we know all about it."
I The other turned on him like a flasfi of
lightning. "What do you mean?"
But Tom was too quick for him ; he was
i on the other side, and took his arm. "Come,"
'; he said, "don't let us have a row."
; The strauger raised himself to his full
height and shook off Tom with ease. He
; | then hit out right and left in splendid style.
; Tom and Alf went down like ninepins. But
i j my blood was up. I scrambled 011 shore and
ran into him, dodged his blows, and closed.
;' I am pretty strong. He was old enough to
, be my father; but I found I had met my
! match, and more. I was like a baby in his
1 arms; he lifted me clean off my feet and
j threw me straight into the river. It was a
splendid exhibition of strength.
; Tom and Alf, finding their feet, made for
1 him together; aud scrambling out as best I
. could, I followed suit. You never saw such
> a set-out. We clung to him like leeches. The
language he used was awful; his strength
j magnificent: though we were three to one, he
v
was a match for all of us. Of course the bystanders,
seeing a row, came up; they interfered,
and pulled us off.
"Here's a pretty go?" said one. "What's
all this?"
"Stop him! lay hold of him !" said Alf.
"He's a lunatic !"
"A what?" said the man.
"He's a lunatic escaped from Dr. Rawle's
asylum!"
Instead of lending a hand, the man went
off into a roar of laughter, and the others
joined. The stranger looked literally frantic
with rage. A gentlemau stepped out from
the crowd.
wrn. , l> 1 :A . cwk.'o
" mere a some misuse, uc saiu, uno gentleman
is Mr. Travers, of Tollhurst Hall."
You could have knocked us all three down
with a feather, I do believe. Could it be pos
sible ? Could we have been such consummate
idiots as to have mistaken a sane man for a
lunatic ? and that was Lilian Travers' father!
I could have shr&nk into my boots, I could
have run away and hid myself in bed. To
think that we should have dogged and watched
and insulted and assaulted the man of all
others in whose good looks we wished to
stand?Lilian Travers' father! Never did
three men look such fools as we did then.
We were so confoundedly in earnest about it,
that was the worst of all. I don't care what
you say; you may think it a first-rate joke;
but he must have been an eccentric sort of
elderly gentleman. If he had behaved sensibly,
if he had made one sensible remark, he
would have blown our delusion to the winds.
We tendered our apologies as best we could
to the man whom we had so insulted; but he
treated us and them with the loftiest scorn ;
and we got one after another into the boat
amidst the gibes and jeers of an unsympathetic
crowd. And as we rowed from the
wretched place as fast as our oars would take
us, we each in our secret heart declared that
we never would forget our adventure up the
river with a lunatic. And we haven't. From
that day to this I have never seen Lilian <
Travers, nor do I wish to.
IpSttUitw flits ftradiuij.
HOME AGAIN FROM LIBERIA.
The bark Monrovia, Capt. Richardson,
which arrived from Liberia last week, having
left Monrovia September 21, brought eighteen
colored passengers. They were a part of !
the ill-starred ship load of emigrants which
ft f! fXr t.Vip liiherian Re
1CI (J VUAliVOVUII) way ?V? *> W . ?
public on Easter Sunday, 1878, in the bark .
Azor. As soon as the returning pilgrims :
arrived in New York they were transferred ,
to the cars and started for their homes in
South Carolina. Yesterday Capt. Richard- j
son gave a reporter many details of their .
long story of suffering and unhappiness, only (
the opening chapters of which have been pub- ,
lished in this country. The returning party ,
included three families and several single (
adults. Their friends in this country sent them
money with which to pay their passage back (
to their old homes. They say there's not one ;
of the Azor'a party that would not gladly
come back if they could raise funds for the ,
journey. A more discontented, miserable (
lot of people can hardly be imagined than ]
those unfortunates, who have found many
more graves than homes in the young colored ]
republic.
It will be remembered that of the 370 exo- j
dists who started on the Azor, twenty-nine
died for lack of proper provision for their ,
health and comfort before they reached Monrovia.
Some thirty or forty have been able '
to return to this country. Of the three hun- '
dred and over remaining there are now only
about sixty persons alive. The climate fever, j
which attacks all strangers in the country, is (
seldom fatal if the patient has proper treatment
and is fairly supplied with the essentials (
of comfort. But these poor wretches were ,
most of them paupers when they landed
in Liberia. They had no food, shelter nor
medicine, except what was inadequately doled
out by the government or by the poor set
tiers of Monrovia. The result is that they ,
have perished by scores until only a remnant j
of the band remains. The survivors are now
inured to the climate, and the most of them .
are at last self-supporting. But none of them
are earning more than the scantiest subsistence.
,
Their troubles have been so incessant and
overpowering that they have had no strength ,
nor means to carry out the plans with which |
thev left America. They expected to go to ,
Bapora, a settlement on the St. Paul's River, 1
some twenty miles in the interior, where they
hoped to open up small coffee farms. But
when they reached Monrovia they found
themselves, through mismanagement and
probable criminality of the agents who had ,
them in charge, wholly dependent upon the
charity of the Liberiaus, and they have not
been able to stir outside of Monrovia, although ,
the residents of the capital would gladly have
been rid of them long ago. The emigrants
charge that the Exodus Association of the 1
South shamefully swindled them, and, justly
or not, they lay most of their misfortunes at
the door of this concern. They say that every
passenger of the Azor paid, beside his or
her passage money, for provisions for a
month's voyage, and for six months' provisions
after landing in Liberia. The money
was paid to the association before the emigrants
embarked at Charleston, and they still
show receipts for it. When they landed at
Monrovia the provisions were distributed,
and there was found to be only a scant three
weeks' supply. The unfortunate strangers, in
a far-off land, have been too poor and miserable
to trumpet their wrongs or to make investigation,
and none has been attempted by
their friends on this side of the water. But
they claim that there has been foul play
somewhere, aud that their money has been
misappropriated. They were promised shelter
for six months, and they had paid for six
months' food. By that time they expected to
have worn out the ill effects of the climate
and accustom themselves to the surroundings
and found some steady means of support.
Instead of this they were thrown in the bad
season of the year, upon the charity of the
residents, who had only a few days' notice of
their coming, and who have well-nigh supported
them ever since, not without grumbling
loudly on account of the irksomeness of
the burden. The Azov's party landed at
Monrovia in the beginning of the rainy season.
No shelter had been prepared for them,
and so the three hundred and forty-odd souls
were of necessity crowded into a lot of dilapidated
and abandoned houses near the beach.
The Liberian Government, contrary to its
nractice. took some measures for their relief,
and some money was taken from the treasury
to buy them food and medicines The only
aid which the Government, as a rule, extends
to immigrants is to give twenty-five acres of
land to the head of every family, and to every
male adult ten acres. Capt. Richardson
says this Government grant has been to most
immigrants of no advantage whatever, as it
takes some capital to improve the land, and
very few of the new comers have money
enough to buy implements with which to develop
the smallest coffee farm.
Capt. Richardson says that immigrants
| fresh from this country have little or no
chance of employment in Monrovia. Fourfifths
of the resident populace are laborers
themselves, and the town has no need to import
manual labor. Besides this, the Kross,
a native tribe, who, the Captain says, lack
only civilization to make them much sharper
and more enterprising and prosperous than
the average of their imported brethren, will
work well for a shilling a day, which is less
than the American negro, with two or three
to provide for, requirep. The American emigrants
have not been able to go to the country
and the able-bodied among them have supplied
no element of strength that the town
needed. There were very few artisans in
their number, and the most were drawn from
the commonest ranks of Southern field hands.
They have done nothing yet to identify them
with the country or (he interests of its people,
and the only hope they cherish is that some
happy chance will enable them to come back
to America. There ars quite a number of
women and children, widowed and orphaned,
who are still dependent for the little they
have upon the kind offices of their neighbors.
A few men are emplcyed by the Liberian
Government, others work with the Kroos,
unloading the vessels that now and then anchor
off the shore, and others make the scantiest
sort of living as hired men on coffee
farms within a few miles of town. Naturedly
enough they can see no bright side to Liberia,
-1"1 -*? >* nanininna an/1 Violnlosari/KJS
auu men uuiiotauu iv^iuiugo uuu nv.j/*ww?..Ww
have made them no filends among the people,
who have about all they can do take care of
themselves. The emigrants which the American
Colonization Society have sent out within
the past two years are doing better,
although there is considerable discontent
among them. Very few of them have moved
into the iuterior, as was the original purpose
of the majority. They hang about Monrovia
or work on the farms a few miles from the
town.
The Monrovia, which has been lying at
the Empire Stores, in Brooklyn, will be
placed in a dry dock this week and thoroughly
overhauled. She will then be loaded for
another voyage, and will start for Liberia
December 15. The Colonization Society hss
already applied for accommodations for sixty
emigrants, and the number will probably be
increased to eighty or one hundred before the
day of sailiug. A clergyman will go out to
join the Episcopal mission.?N. Y. Herald.
A RUSSIAN LEGEND.
There was once a young Russian .prince
who was cruel as Russian princes alone can
be. He made nothing of insulting and abusing
any one; he would ruthlessly lead the
chase across the fields of young corn which
were the peasants' only hope of subsistence,
and made nothing of trampling down women,
feeble old men, or children, if they were in
his way.
On one occasion, being more than half intoxicated,
he saw a beautiful child playing
in the road before the door of a peasant's hut
and rode deliberately over it, and when its
mother, with frantic cries, rushed forth and
lifted it from the ground, it was quite dead.
The poor woman's grief was so great, the
dead child was so beautiful, and the wrath of
those who witnessed the scene was so intense, '
that even the cruel prince could not be
quite indifferent to what he had done.
Having watched the womaa for awhile he
drew bis purse from a pocket add approached
her.
"Here," said he, dropping it into her lap,
"here is money enough to make you rich
amongst other peasants. Doubtless you have
more children, or will have. They are always
plenty, one more or less, what does it
matter ? See, now, you are rich, stop crying."
But as he spoke the woman lifted the purse
in her hand ami flung it in his face.
"Take back your blood money," she said.
"My child was worth more to ra i than all the
gold in Russia. But listen, insolent prince.
A. poor peasant woman can do no harm, but
die can see the harm that is coming.. My
mother was a wise woman. I also can see
into eternity. The horse that has iaeen the
death of my darling will be the cause: of yours
ere long. Yes, he will rid the world of you,
thank heaven. It is written. I read it. Go,
and leave me with my dead."
As the woman spoke the prince turned
pale. He was very superstitious, and the belief
in prophecy was strong in those days.
Without making answer he rode away. His
followers at his bidding scattered the contents
of his purse amongst the crowd, who at
once changed their curses to cheers, and the
broken-hearted woman was left alone.
As for the prince, he rode home as fast as
he could, and so great was the impression
made by the words the poor peasant mother
had uttered, that he at once ordered the horse,
a great favorite, of which he had been fonder
than he ever was of any living being, to be
sent away to a distant portion of the country.
The animal was to be cared for as though it
were a human being; a house was to be built
for him, and he was to be closely confined in it,
if he, the prince, himself, ever visited that
portion of the country. Of course, these orders
were strictly obeyed. The favorite steed
went into a sort of royal exile, and the prince
used to ride other horses, when he trampled
down other peasant's corn.
People remembered the prophecy, however,
and .many secretly hoped for its fulfilment.
The unhappy mother had the reputation for
a sort of second sight, believed in by those of
her nation.
"However, time passed <Jn. A year went
by?two?three?four. The fifth came. During
all this time the prince had heard no
tidings of his banished favorite. At last he
inquired about him, and heard that he had
been dead for a long time. Laziness and
over feeding had killed him.
"So cried the prince, "he will not be my
death, at last! A dead horse can kill nobody."
And then, as though the creature were an
enemy who had been thwarted in some evil
intent, the desire to see his dead body and
triumph over it, seized upon its master.
Attended by a great train, he set out for
the place where the horse had lived and died.
The remains had been laid, with respect, in
a sort of tomb built for the purpose.
"Let mesee thefn," cried the prince.
His word was law. The tomb was opened.
Only a skeleton of the poor beast remained,
but beside this the prince stood with an absurd
look of triumph upon his countenance..
"So ! cried he. "You were to be my death,
were you?" Ah, ah! you cannot runaway
with me now, nor throw me. See how quietly
you allow me to kick you !"
As he spoke he bestowed upon the skull of
the dead animal a disdainful kick. But, on
the instant, his laughter turned to a cry of
anguish, and his couriers saw him writhing
on the ground in agony; close about his legs
was twisted a black and hideous object with
fierce eyes and darting head. It was a
vo?nr?Alia Dfl?*non t which had coiled itself I
V tUVJIUVUO OWijfVOv ?? _
withiu the hollow of the dead horse, and
which the kick the prince had given aroused
to wrath.
The sting proved deadly. In a few hours
the prince was dead. They bore him home to
be buried in the tomb of his father. No one
grieved for him; and at her door stood the
peasant whose prophecy had been fulfilled.
Other children now play at her knee, but she
has not forgotten her murdered little one.
WaT Has a parent or guardian the right to
dictate what branch of study a child or ward
shall omit in a public school course? The
Judge of a Court in Pomeroy, Ohio, thinks
this right exists. William Tucker sued the
Board of Education and recovered $35 damages,
for depriving his daughter of the privileges
of the pubic schools. The Board had
decided that all the pupils should learn drawing.
Tucker gave notice to the teacher that
his daughter must not study that branch, and
the vBoard, in consequence, expelled her.
\
f
THE CLEMENT ATTACHMENT AttAlN. I
Henry W. Grady writes from Atlanta to
the Philadelphia Times:
The unexpected and artificial rise in the
price of cotton has added fully two cents a
pound to the ordinary price of this staple.
This surplus of $10 per bale, which strikes
the farmers as happily as did the fairy godmother's
gift to Cinderella, and which comes
quite as gratuitously, has given'everything a I
boom. The cotton is being rushed to market
as rapidly as possible. Just upon this boom
comes the discussion of a little machine that
is already famous over the continent and that
promises the grandest results, the Clement attachment.
This machine, the invention of a
Memphis mechanic, who died of yellow fever,
provides for the spinning of yarns from seed
cotton. At present, the.cotton is picked from
the boll and taken to a gin which simply separates
the lint from the seed. The lint is then
baled and sent North for manufacturing.
With the Clement mill the lint is not only
separated from the seed, but it is spun into
varn. The difference iu value is enormous.
- * * * 1 _ I *
Hie lint cotton is worm oniy uuouteignt eeuus
a pound 011 the plantation ; the yarn is worth
seventeen cents a pound. It will "be Been
therefore, that every pound of cotton spun is
DOUBLED IN VALUE.
A bale of cotton ginned by the old process
is worth say $50 ; the same cotton run through
the new process is worth $100. Of this added
value fully $15 is clear profit. A crop of 5,000,000
bales spun into yarn would, therefore,
leave $500,000,000 in the South, while it now
leaves only $250,000,000. Of this surplus of
$250,000,000 there would be $75,000,000
profit. The rest would be kept on the farms
in the way of wages, &c. It looks unreasonable
to apply these figures to the whole crop,
and yet it would require no more capital to
spin the crop into yarns by the new process
than it does to gin it by the old. One Clement
mill will do the work of three gins and
cost about one third as much. It is believed
they will rapidly take the place of gins on
the plantations and that a thorough revolution
will be effected. There are six of these
little mills in operation in Georgia and the
Carolinas. Each of them is visited daily by
crowds of sight-seers and farmers and capitalists.
Letters are received from all parts of
the country, and samples of the yarn have
been sent for by Liverpool capitalists. The
yards .made by this process are superior to any
others and took the premiums at all the fairs.
The little mills could not, all combined, supply
a fraction of the demand that comes from
Philadelphia alone for the yarns.
One point that commends the Clementmills
to the South is that they will make
AN ESSENTIALLY 80UTHERN INDUSTRY.
The cotton seed cannot be carried away
from the plantations. It must be spun there
just as completely as it is now ginned there.
Tko m! 11 q vflp? Rimnlfl. It is simnlv the
*"v ",v ' w"J 1 ? ?r .1
connection of a gin with a spindle by means
of carding cylinders. In the old system the
fibre is chopped and torn from the seed by
lightning-like saws and then thrown all tangled
and torn, into the lint pile, then packed
into bales, taken to the factories, picked out
and foggled again and then carded into rolls
and spun. In the new process, the gin moves
slower, pulls the fibVe from the seed instead of
tearing or cutting it, transfers it carefully to
a carding cylinder, instead of throwing it into
the lint pile, and spins it at once, instead of packing
it, compressing it and picking it out
again. In the process of converting seed cotton
into thread no less than four machines
used in the old process are eliminated in the
new process, and a profit of nearly two cents
a pound is gained. This is an enormous margin
of profit. It is proved also, that by the
superior gins used in the Clement mills eight
per cent, more of lint is taken from the seed
than by the old gins. This eight per cent, has
heretofore been wasted. From the lint to the
thread there is another five per cent, of wastage
saved.
THE FURORE OVER THESE MILLS
is wonderful. They drive out all thought of
politics. It is estimated that over one hundred
will be put to work in Georgia within
the next year. A prominent cotton factory
man predicted to me that the time would come
when the old factories would scatter their
spindles among these plantation mills and
supply their places with looms to weave the
yarns sent in from the farms. The profits of
these mills are a large per centage. The six
mills in operation average from thirty to sixty
per cent. A mill that cost $3,500 has made
$1,869 clear in one year, and it will do better
next year. A double mill that cost $6,000 is
making from $8 to $10 a day, and is safe for
Artrt _ mi i.
oo.uuu a year. iney are siuipie, ouug hujc
structures, looking like the ordinary country
grist mills. A six-horse power will run one of
them. Several Northern capitalists have visited
the mills, and several companies are being
formed to put them up. The Southern papers
are full of enthusiastic articles concerning
them.
- ?
POINTS OF A GOOD HORSE.
"I can't explain what a real good horse is,"
said one of the best najured dealers in the
New York market, to a writer in Scribner's
MTonthly. "They are as different as men. In
buying a horse you must look first to his head
and eyes, for sight of intelligence, temper,
courage and honesty. Unless a horse has
brains you can't teach him anything, any
more than you can a half-witted child. See
that tall bay there?fine-looking animal, fifteen
hands high.. You can't teach that horse
anything. Why ? Well, I'll show you a difference
in heads; but have a care of his heels.
Look at the brute's head, that rounding nose,
that tapering forehead, that broad, full place
below the eyes. You can't trust him. Kick?
Well, I guess so ! Put him in a ten-acre lot,
where he's got plenty of swing, and he'll kick
the horn off' the moon."
"That's an awful good mare," he added.
"She's as true as the sun. You can see breadth,
and fullness between the ears and eyes. You
couldn't hire that mare to act mean or to hurt
anybody. The eye should be full, aud hazel
is a good color. I like a small, thin ear, and
want a horse to throw his ears well forward.
Look out for the brute that wants to listen to
all the conversation going on behind him.
The horse that turns back his ears till they almost
meet at the points, take my word for it,
is almost sure to do something wrong. See
the straight, elegant face. A horse with a
dishing face is cowardly, and a cowardly
brute is usually vicious. Then I like a square
muzzle, with large nostrils to let in plenty of
air to the lungs. For the underside of the
head, a good horse should be well cut under
the jowl, with jawbone broad and wide apart
under the throttle.
"So much for the head," he continued.
"The next thing to consider is the build of the
animal. Never buy a long-legged, stilty horse.
Let him have a short, straight back, and a
straight rump, and you've got a gentleman's
horse. The withers should be high, and the
shoulders well set back and broad ; but don't
get them too deep in the chest. The fore-leg
should be short. Give me a pretty straight
hind leg, with the hock low down, short pastern
joint, and a round, mulish foot. There
are all kinds of horses, but the animal that
has these points is almost sure to le sightly,
graceful, good-natured and serviceable. As
to color, taste differs. Bays, browns and chestnut
are the best. Roans are very fashionable
at present. A great many grays and sorrels
are brought here for shipment to Mexico and
Cuba. They do well in a hot climate, under
a tropical sun? for the same reasot. that you
' /
unci lignt coiorea cioimng me most serviceable
in Summer. That circus horse behind
you is what many people call a calico horse.
Now, I call him a genuine piebald. It's a
freak of nature, and may happen anywhere."
THE STREAMLET. i
A streamlet started forth from a spring fa
the side of a mountain, and, after an infancy
of gay leaps in bright cascades, spread out <
iuto a more quiet and steady movement. It
began then to dream and meditate on the object
for which it existed. While in this gra ve
inood a Will-o'-wisp darted out and danced
over its waters. 1
"Ah," cried the streamlet, "this is a heaven- '
ly light sent to tell me what I wish to know,
and to guide my course." * 1
But the Will-o'-wisp soon flitted away,
and vanished, leaving the streamlet more
perplexed than before. Its first creed was
?? TI*An o i?aow aIaii/1 flno fori in flio clrxr I
j^KJUXjm XUCU a 1VOJ viuuu Iivuwu <u vmv
and mirrored itself iu the bosom of the
stream.
"This," it cried, "is a token of Paradise!"
But a wind ruffled the water, and the tinted
cloud was mirrored no more; and when the
streamlet became still aguin the rosy cloud had
passed from the sky. Then a water lily
expanded on its waters.
"Behold !" said the streamlet; "to nourish
this beauty is the eud and aim of my life." 1
But the lily presently folded up and perished.
The streamlet moved on. Presently
it came to a spot where men had thrown
hard stones in its way, obstructed itB course, 1
turned it aside through a narrow channel
and forced it to rush in a confused, perilous
way over a wheel.
"Alas!" cried the streamlet; "is it then for
this agony I was born ?" 1
But after some wild splashes the streamlet 1
found itself at peace again, and went on i
widening. And now a glorious moon came
out and showered gold all over it.
"How wealthy I am!" cried the streamlet ^
The moon waned. But the stars came out, 1
and the ripple caught them as bright mar- 1
vels; they hinted deeper steader, glories yet 1
to be revealed. But the stars set 1
At length a poet reclined on its bank and 1
sang to it <
"Sweet streamlet! What a bright life I
must have been yours! What flowers must'
have fringed your gilded way, what rosy clouds '
you must have reflected, what lillies you have 1
nourished, what stars have risen to tell you \
their secrets ere they have set! You have J
done brave work, too. You have watered *
the meadow and made it wave with grain; '
you have conspired with the sun to ripen the <
harvest, and when matured, you have helped 1
to turn it into bread. Not for one of these *
joys and uses were you made but for all! '
So may the stream of life run on, with varied 1
happiness and helpfulness, not axious about 1
the unknown sea to which thou and I, fair '
stream, are tending." 1
As the streamlef listened, all the beauties it 1
had known shone out again, and they all f
clustered?dancing light, rosy cloud, golden 1
moon and serene stars?around the sorrow it ?
had encountered, the obstruction which had '
ground grain for man; for that transfigured <
in the poet's song, seemed the happiest expe* )
rience of all.?Moncuke D. Conway, SL
Nicholas for October. j
Shot Making.?A shot tower is certainly 1
aourioua place -to the uninitiated-Tiaitoi, and \
the process of manufacturing the leaden mis- .
siles is most interesting. Of course it is nec- 1
essary that the shot should fall from a considerable
elevation, and many of the towers
are over 200 feet. As pure lead will pot 1
make perfect globules, it is necessarily "tern- 1
pered." This "temper" is prepared by the '
addition of ingredients, of which arsenic is (
the main property. It is run into bars con- 1
venient for use, and, with pig lead hoisted to <
the top of the tower. Here are two small '
rooms, one about 12 feet below the other, and J
each containing two huge kettles in which the
pig lead and "temper" are melted. From 1
one of the two kettles in both rooms?as each f
room has a separate shaft?streams of shot (
are constantly flowing. At the bottom of '
each kettle themolten stuff pours into square 1
pans perforated at one side. These perfora- '
tions are large or small according to the size
of shot desired, and separate the mass into 1
distinct, delicate, gleaming streams, which, in <
turn, as they come in contact with the atmos- 1
phere, separate into globules or shot, which 1
are cooled in their 200 feet journey and the
water into which they fall below. 1
Out of the shot pit, up through the water, 1
an endless belt, with cups attached, carries 1
the wet shot, depositing it in a huge revolv- 1
ing heated cylinder, where the globules are e
thoroughly dried. From this they pass out J
upon a descending series of slightly inclined 1
tables, the lower edge of each one being a (
few inches above and distant from the succeeding
table. The perfect globules, from
their specific gravity, go bounding over these j
spaces; but the imperfect shot are gradually >
forced along until they reach them, when f
they fall into receptacles, and being remolten 3
go over the same journey again. From these 1
sorting tables the shot are carried to a series <
of sizing seives, with perforated sheet-brass *
bottoms. Moved back and forth by machine- 1
? *1." oUrtf nf a omollai* oi<?n rtosa tVirnilOrV) 1
I y f tUC OUUb U1 U DUIHilVt UAUv |/MVW WM* ?
these perforations, larger shot of different ]
sizes, from the motion of the sieves, and from
their weight, gradually sorting themselves 1
with absolute perfection. From the sorting j
sieves the shot pass into polishing barrels, >
containing a prepafation, the main constit- '
uent of which is plumbago, and, emerging
from these, burnished like silver, find their
way into repositories in the story below, to <
the mouth of each of which there is attached 1
a delicately adjusted automatic scale, which 1
will discharge precisely 25 pounds of shot 1
into the bags beneath. (
? ? ?
Our Receipt for Curing Meat.?-As i
the season has arrived when curing meat is }
in order, we republish as of old, our famous l
receipt for curing beef, pork, mutton, hams, <
&c., as follows: I
To one gallon of water, <
Take 1J pounds of salt, j
i pound of sugar, i
i ounce of saltpetre, .
i ounce of potash. I
In this ratio the pickle can be increased to
any quantity desired. Let these be boiled
together until all the dirt from the sugar rises ?
to the top and is skimmed off". Then throw 1
it into a tub to cool, and when cold, pour it '
over your beef or pork. The meat must be 1
well-covered with pickle, and should not be j
put down for at least two days after killing,
during which time it should be slightly '
sprinkled with powdered saltpetre, which re- 1
moves all the surface-blood, &c., leaving the ]
meat fresh and clean. Some omit boiling the 1
pickle, and find it to answer well, though the ]
operation of boiling purifies the pickle by '
throwing off the dirt always to be found in (
salt and sugar. If this receipt is strictly fol- 1
lowed, it will require only a single trial to
prove its superiority over the common way,
or most ways of putting down meat, and will 5
not soon be abandoned for any other. The 1
meat is unsurpassed for sweetness, delicacy *
and freshness of color.?Gennantovm Tele- <
graph. *
S&~ Did you ever notice that there is some- 1
thing really musical in the pitiful weeping
of your own baby?God bless it I?and something,
everything fiendishly discordant in the 1
squalling of your neighbor's howling young t
one ? How is it, anyhow, that it always is f
that way ? <
i
i
KJLjV iXUfi?"~r uuiovvtv jviMw uuv*
the general term of human existence. With
women the fiftieth, and with men the sixtieth
year, may generally be considered that in
which they begin to exhibit signs of infirmity
and decrepitude. Disease incidental to this _
stage of life then come into play, and their
effect upon the habit and constitution is soon
manifest. Especially do such diseases as
gout, rheumatism, apoplexy and paralysis
arise to make a wreck of the constitution;
and cancer, more particularly in woman,
commits ravages, destroying its victims with
deadly certainty. Now it is, that any'excess
* 1 JL !!A.
es committed in tne earner penoas 01 me,
any habitual infringements of t^'hrr nf "m~'?
health, are found to have told upon the constitution,
although this was not apparent in
the full vigor of manhood. Now it is, that
we find impaired powers of respiration, of secretion,
and of digestion, rendering it necessary
to be careful of- the air we breathe, the
exercise we take, and the food we eat. Early
to bed, but not early to rise, is the rule at this
period of life; or, at all events, must rest
Exercise should be taken by the aged, but
of a passive character and not carried to fatigue
; warmth is essential to their comfort;
cleanliness, though often neglected bv the
aged, is very necessary to the preservation of
life; and with these requisites, amusements
should not be overlooked, though it should
be of a quiet, unexciting nature.- If unable
to read, themselves, they should be read to;
for one of the greatest pleasures of the aged
consist in old memories and associations.
Aged persons live very much in a world of
the past, and if sometimes tediously garrulous,
it should be remembered, that from them this
world, with ii* exciting hopes and depressing . _
cares, is rapidly passing away; that we may
not hereafter have cause for regret, let us
gently smooth the pathway of deolining age.
JSrThe Commissioner of Internal Revenue
has handed in his annual report to the Secre-.
tary of the Treasury, for the past year. The
table embodied therein shows that during the ';
past three years and four months, 3,117 illicit ;
distilleries have been seized, 6,363 persons arrested
for illicit distilling, and 27 officers and /
3mploy& killed and 48 wounded wfyile en- j
jaged in enforcing the internal reveaacTfites- _
Ihe commissioner says that the State Court^ y
have taking cognizance of these murders anb^ "
issaults only in a few cases, and that they
iot be reliecl upon to punish such oSensesi
H*. mnnmRlAndo tllO enoptmflnt. bvV
L&U, tUGlGIVAO) A VWUiuivuuu wuv ? j .
Dongress of a law authorizing the UnitedC
States Courts to try and punish persons cbaraf
:d with assaults upon United States^offio^n
while the latter are engaged in th^ptfjftrmince
of their official duties. ThejnU^faK
hat 5,448 distilleries were regi^^MpdupS.
;he past fiscal year, and 5,347 opel^R^d. Turing
the special tax year, ending AKprU 30th,
;here were forty-nine millien gail^fna 0f spirits
ectified, and during the fiscal ySLr the tax?6
Jaid on spirits withdrawn from *
jregated $46,778,000. Discussing l^^niclon
of the tax on tobacco, the Commissioner
lays during the four months of the present
iscal year the decrease in receipts from tobac:o
and snufif, as compared with the corres3onding
period, last year, was $2,336,600.
These figures indicate a decrease for the whole*
fear of $7,000,000. The total production of
obacco and snuff in the United States during
lie year, was 131,000,000 pounds, an increase^^^^
>?-12,000,000 ponnda ovar-tlin prmiicma y?
The total amount of collections from tobacco;
n all forms, was $40,000,000.
4 ?
WSf A Dr. M. M. Griffith, of Bradford, Pa.,
reports that he has attained some astonishing
results by the administration of crude petroeum
to consumptives. In twenty-five cases
if well-marked tuberculosis, he claims that
;wenty are* cured, so far as any outward signs
>f disease are concerned, and the rest have
seen materially benefitted, none having been
inder treatment for more than four months.
The nausea attending the use of ordinary
petroleum led Dr. Griffith to use the' semiiolid
oil that forms on the casing and tubing
>f wells. This is made into pills of three to
5ve grains each by incorporating any inert
vegetable matter, and administered in doses
if one pill each, from three to five times a
low TKa first. he cavs. is the disan*
pearance of the cough, night sweats are reliev- '
id, appetite improves and weight is rapidly
gained. But there have beeD so manyvcure- .
ills for pulmonary disease which have utterly ^ ^
-ailed,that it is likely the medical facult^&JJtf^Mfl
aasten slowly before they consent
lize Dr. Griffith's remedy asj?e longvH^t
janacea. Yet there can/fee", no doubt^hat ^
;here have been mapy oily and fatty subitances
that haye-^iven relief to consump;ives,
aHeflsTluding to sustain them for varyng
periods, according to the constitution of
lifferent patients.
+ ?
t&" Next year will see the grand cathedral at'
Cologne completed. The first stone of this
mmense church was laid on the 14th of August,
1248. The choir was consecrated in
1332. The south tower was completed in
1437. In 1810 the parchment containing the
iriginal design of the building was found,
tnd the work of the building stimulated. Ip
1825 the Prussian Government took the mater
in hand, and in 1880 the cathedral will
ie completed at the mature age of 632 years."*rhe
church is in the form of a cross and is 511
eet long by 231 feet wide. The roof is supported
by 100 columns, the centre ones beng
30 feet in circumference. The towers are
)40 feet high.
\
The intelligence cornea from .Washington
;hat the proposal to put Grant at the head of
;he army, with a salary of fifty thousand dolare
a year, is generally approved by mem3ers
of Congress. 80 enthusiastic are some of
;hem in behalf of it that it is proposed to
luspend the rules and press the bill at once,
f possible, and the belief is general that it
ivould go through by a vote in every sense
ion-partisan. Everybody takes it as a matter
)f course that Grant will be delighted with
;his arrangement, and prefer it to any number
>f terms as President He has often spoken
ibout the sacrifices he made when he gave up
[lis life position as General of the Army to
become President
The report of the Philadelphia board of
1 team vessel inspectors, concerning the collision
on the 7th ultimo, between the steamer
Champion and the British ship Lady Octavia,
declares that the disaster was wholly due
jo the absence of a proper lookout on the
Champion. The board is of opinion that the
ault rests mainly with K. H. Leonard, first,
nate of the Champion, and if he had survived,
his action should have been condemned
n severe terms. The evidence shows that it
imo tlia T.n^o rWnwia that ran intn the
ITMQ VliU v/vm??*w """
Champion, but that under the evidence, the
ifficers of the Octavia should be exempt from,
ill blame.
Stuffed Chicken.?"Well, my man,"
laid a* military doctor to a patient who had
>een on a "low diet" for a long time, "how
ire you ?" "Much better, sir." "Could you
i&t a small chicken to day ?" "That I could,
lir." "What would you like it stuffed with ?"
'Please your Honor," replied the hungry parent,
"I would like it stuffed with another.'*
"They are both scoundrels," said a felow-member
of Congress to Thad Stevens
ibout two applicants for a seat. "I suppose
10," said old Thad, "but which is our scoun*
Irel?" ^
m