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r lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jnbejienbenf J^Htnilii ftetospper: Jfrr t{te ^ramotian of tj|e political, facial, '^griraltural ante Commercial Interests of t|e j&onfji. Jterms--$2.50 a tear, in advance. VOL. 26 YOEKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 15, 1880. NO. 29. mflcwacraticfloMwces WILLIAM H. ENGLISH. THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF OUR NEXT VICE-PRESIDENT. William H. Euglish, Democratic nominee for Vice-Presideut, is a native Indianian. He was born in Scott county, August 27, 1822, at the village of Lexington, and has literally grown with his native State and strengthened with her strength. Born at a time when school houses in Indiana were few and far between, he mastered the rudiments of an education at an early age, and took a position in public affairs. Mr. English studied law and was admitted to practice in the Circuit Court at the early age of 18 years; he was subsequently admitted to the Supreme Court of his State, and, in the 23rd year of his age, to the highest judicial tribunal in the country, the Supreme Court of the United States. Several years before he was of age he was chosen a delegate from his native couuty to the Democratic State Convention at Indianapolis, which nominated Gen. Tilghman A. Howard for Governor, anc. he commenced making speeches in that memorable campaign. At the age of 20 years he was appointed postmaster of Lexington, his native village, then county seat of Scott county. In 1843, when 21 years of age, he was chosen principal clerk of the House of Representatives. Soon after the close of the session of the Legislature the great campaign of 1844 begau. The standard-bearers of the opposing parties were James K. Polk and Henry Clay. Mr. English took an active part in that campaign, and as a recognition cf his services was tendered an appointment in the Treasury Department at Washington, which he ac. i * J x- J;?i cepteu, anu conimueu iu uiscimrge iw uuu? during Mr. Polk's adminstrntion. In the year 1850 the people of Indiana called a convention to revise the constitution, of the State, which was adopted in 1816, when the State was admitted into the Union. The convention assembled in October, 1850, and Mr. English, then 23 years of age, was choser\ its principal secret- /. In this position the fact was recognized that his abilities were of a character to command a wider sphere of usefulness. In 1851 Mr. English was elected to the State Legislature against an opposition majority and over a competitor considered the strongest and most popular man of his party in the county. This was the first meeting of the Legislature under the provisions of the new constitution, and judg- j inent and discretion were required of the members to put the new State'machinery into : harmonious and successful operation. It was { a considerable honor, therefore, for Mr. Eng i lish to be elected to take part in the delibera tions of such a body, but it was a still greater honor to be elected, as he was, Speaker of the House, though but 29 vears of age, and his first appearance as a member of a legislative body. With the close of the long session of the Legislature in 1851, Mr. English was regard- i ed as oue of the foremost tueu of his State, and the Democrats of his district selected him as their standard bearer in the race for Congress. In October, 1852, when just 30 years of age, he was elected to the United States House of Representatives by 488 majority. Mr. English entered Congress at the commencement of Mr. Pierce's administration, and gave its political measures a warm support. Mr. English served four terms in Congress?in all eight years?immediately preceding the war, and that during the entire period as stormy as the National Legislature ever experienced. The Kansas-Nebraska bill and questions growing out of its introduction were among the most prominent and important measures that were ever submitted to Congress. With these measures Mr. English was conspicuously identified. He, at the time the Kansas-Nebraska bill was introduced, was a member of the House committee on Territories, which was charged with the consideration of the subject. Passing by the question of area and other questions of secondary importance, the real question at issue was "Popular Sovereignty," the right of the people to determine for themselves the character of their Territorial and State institutions?and this great question, which underlies the. democratic idea of government, was first sharply defiued in the discussion of the "Kansas-Nebraska bill" for the organization of the territories bearing these rrames, and now sovereign and prosperous States. Mr. English, for prudential reasons, did not concur with the majority of the committee on Territories in bringing forward the Kansas Nebraska bill, but a majority of the committee decided to report it, whereupon Mr. English, on the 31st of January, 1854, made a minority report. Both the House and Senate bill, at the time Mr. English made his minority report, contained a provision "that the Constitution and all laws of the United States which were not locally inapplicable shall have the same force and effect within the said territory as elsewhere in the United States," and then followed this important reservation : "Except the eighth section of the Act prenorntdrir tn lho nrlmi<3?4nn nf MlSSOUri illtO the Union, approved March 6, 1820, which was superceded by the principles of the legislation of 1850, commonly called the compromise measures, and i3 hereby declared iuoperative." Mr. English proposed to strikeout this exception and insert the following: "Provided that nothing in this Act shall be so construed as to prevent the people of said territory through the properly constituted legislative authority, from passing such laws in relation to the institution of slavery, not inconsistent with the Constitution of the United States, as they may dtera best adapted to their locality aud most conducive to their happiness and welfare ; and so much of any existing Act of Congress as may conflict with the above right of the people to regulate their domestic institutions in their owu way be, and the same is hereby, repealed." In the history of this subject, given in the first volume of Mr. Horace Greeley's "American Conflict," the opinion is expressed that this proposition of Mr. English could not have been defeated on a call of yeas and nays, and the author goes on to explain and condemn the new and ingenious parliamentary manoeuvre resorted to at that time, which cut off all amendments but the substitution of the Senate bill for the bill of the House. "Thus," says Mr. Greeley, "the opponents of the measure in the House were precluded from proposing any amendments or modifications whatever, when it is morally certain that, had they been permitted to do so, some such amend! rnent as Governor Chase's or Mr. English's j would have been carried." The substance, j however, of the modifications proposed by Mr. English finally prevailed, but in an indirect way, the same thing substantially having been introduced on the 7th of February by Mr. ! Douglas in the Senate as an amendment to the j Senile bill, and thus amended the Senate bill i was sent to the House and adopted by that | body as an amendment to its own bill, the j House striking out all of its own bill from j the enacting clause for that purpose. The agitation of the slavery question continued and culminated in Congress upon the | proposition to admit Kansas into the Union, i under what was known as the Lecompton constitution, which did not prohibit the institution of slavery, and it was at this period of Mr. English's cougressional history that he acquired his widest reputation as a statesman. He was firmly opposed to the admission of Kansas, undsr the Lecompton constitution, until that instrument had been ratified by the people, and so true was he to bis convictions, that he opposed the policy of the administra J tion of his own party upon the measure. It : was the turning point in the history of the ; country. The Seuat? saw proper to pass a bill admitting Kansas, under the Lecompton constitution, without limit or condition, but this bill, although it commanded the favor of the President and his cabinet, failed to receive the sanction of the House of Representatives. The House, on the other hand, passed a bill as a substitute for that of the Senate, but this the Senate would not accept, or the Executive approve. In this stage of the proceedings, when the whole country had about abandoned the hope of a settlement of the disagreement between the Houses, and the angry contest was likely to be adjourned for further and protracted agitation, before a people already inflamed with sectional animosities, Mr. Euglish took the responsibility of moving to concur in the proposition of the Senate, askiDg for a committee of free conference. Upon adopting this motion the vote was 108 to 108, but the Speaker voted in the affirmative and the motion carried. From this committee Mr. English reported what ?s known as the "English bill," which becam : the law after a struggle of unparalleled b itemess. Under this law the question of ? 1 mission under the Lecompton constitution as in effect referred back to the people of Kansas and they voted against it, just as Mr. English and almost every one else expected they would do. On the final vote, which admitted Kansas as a State, he was still a member and voted for her admission. After the passage of the "English bill," a very determined effort was made to prevent Mr. English's reelection to Congress, but he , was returned by a larger majority than ever? ( his majority gradually increasing at each election from 400 in 1852 to 2,000 in 1858, and 1 this at a time when Democratic Congressmen ; were almost swept out of existence in the Northern States. At the close of the Thirtysixth Congress, and when in the full meridian of success, he retired from Congress and active political life as an office holder. As chairman of the committee on resolutions at the Convention of 1864, which nominated his . friend, Michael C. Kerr, for Congress from his old district, Mr. English prepared and reported a resolution, which was adopted, declaring : "That we are now as we ever have been, unqualifiedly in favor of the Uuion of the ' Stales under the Constitution, and stand ready, as we have ever stood heretofore, to : do everything that loyal and true citizens should do to maintain that Union under the Constitution, and to hand it down to our children unimpaired as we received it from our fathers." To these sentiments of loyalty to the Union Mr. English firmly and consistently adhered throughout the struggle. His fidelity never 1 wavered, nor did his doubts ever gain an ascendency over his convictions that the Union would be preserved. At the close of his useful and honorable congressional services, Mr. English was confronted with the fact that a new departure : ill ins UU31UW3 iiic >vno uicvitauiu. 11c uau grown rusty in the law, but his native energy forbade that he should remain quiet. At this juncture he concluded to embark in the business of banking, and in connection with J. F. D. Lauier, of New York, and George W. Riggs, of Washington City, he established, in the spring of 1863, the First National Bank of Indianapolis. This bank was among the first organized in the United ! States under the national system, and the vary first to get out its circulation. Mr. English's connection with this bank brought him into great prominence as a financier, und in this position, as in other places of great responsibility, he displayed consummate ability. During- the period of his connection with the First Natioual Bank, the question of national finances excited the profoundest solicitation and engaged the attention of the best thinkers in the country. During the entire period of that discussion Mr. English's views were well understood. No man's opinions were less equivocal. His knowledge of business, of finances and of the needs of the country was comprehensive. He was op posed to inflation, and as certainly opposed to extreme and hasty legislation looking to forced resumption. With regard to gold and silver as the standards of value, and to the absolute necessity of ultimate resumption, no man in the countrv was more pronounced : j in his declarations. The heresy of an irredeemable paper currency found in Mr. English j an uncompromising opponent, and as a result ! his financial record is without a blemish. Mr. English presided over this bauk over fourteen years, to the entire satisfaction of the ! stockholders, and then, in 1877, in the full ! meridian of financial success, he resigned the j presidency and retired from active business, ; as he had years before retired from active : politics as an office holder when in the full tide of political success. Faithful to every I trust, he retained the good opinion of his associates then, as he had of his constituents | when he retired from Congress. Mr. English is a man of action rather than ! j of words. His efforts as a debater are more I remarkable for practical common sense than ! for brilli: ncy of oratory or the flowers of ' _i.?? uJ ^..?o*:ooi oil I I UCLUi IU. XJ 13 ILIIIJU, OIIUJWJ' JUUUimai in an J its scope . ad bearings, is eminently utilitari an. Energy of character, firmness of purpose i and an unswerving integrity are his chief I characteristics. In personal intercourse he is | inclined to he retiring and reserved, but to an acquaintance aud friend he is open, can- j j did and affable. In the private and social , ! relations of life he stands "without blemish | and above reproach." As a busiuess man, j | without being too cautious, he is prudent | i and conservative. He is above the average I height, with an erect, well-made figure. His j head is of good size, with regular features. 1 The forehead is high and broad. Self-reli\ ance aud zeal are suggested by his appearance : and made known in his deeds. GEN. HANCOCK AT*GETTYSBURG. i Dr. Alexander N. Dougherty, of Newark, i i N. J., was Medical Director of the Second I | Corps when it was commanded by Gen. HanI cock. He is a Republican, and was Post-1 ! master of Newark under Grant's first admin- j ' istration. He will, however, vote for Han! cock. He said yesterday : "When Gen. Hancock succeeded Gen. Couch as commander of the old Second Corps, I became his Medical Director. At the battle of Gettysburg he commanded the First, Second and Third Corp9, one-half of the array. In the third day's fight at Gettysburg he was wounded, and I was sent for. I found him lying on the hill slope, under a tree, and facing the enemy. There was a deep, wide gash in his leg near the groin. In the wound were wood splinters and a tenpenny nuil. Gen. Hancock was anxious to know what the enemy were using in their shells. He thought he had been wounded by splinters from ofte of the enemy's shells. We put him in an ambulance, and lay down beside him. Then we drove through a hot fire to my hospital. Afterwards I discovered that a bullet had penetrated his saddle, and then lodged in his thigh, carrying with it the wood splinters and the tenpenny nail. "As he lay in the hospital in great pain, I, at his dictation, wrote his first dispatch to Gen. Meade announcing the victory won at Gettysburg, adding to the dispatch that the defeat would be turned into a rout. He was calm, patient and heroic. He was equally entitled with Meade to the honor of the vie^ 7VTno/In oqv cn tury txi VJCLLJOUUlg, OIJU xucauv HUUIU W4%J wv if he were alive. On the night of the second day's battle a council of wur was held. It was proposed to fall back and establish the line of battle at Pipe Creek, but Hancock opposed it. He argued that the army should stay where it was, and he said the army of the Potomac had made its last retreat, and should die on the line where the battle'was begun. Gen. Meade finally coincided with Hancock, and the result was that that great victory crippled the enemy so that they never recovered from it. Hancock will be the next President. Several of my Republican friends have assured me tbey will vote for him. We don't want any President who accepts bribes or perjures himself, or who has even the suspicion of a taint about him."?N. Y. Sun. She $m\) SrUct. ~A TERRIBLE NIGHT. I am no politician. I am a provision dealer?a wholesale provision dealer?doing business in New York city. Having commenced my veritable history with the above assertion, it is necessary that I should inform the reader how it was that I was a member of the New York delegation to the democratic convention held in Baltimore some years ago. One evening, in the latter part of May, I was seated with ray wile in our pretty nouse, on Eighth street, enjoyiDg a fragrant cup of tea?for if there is one thing I am a good judge of it is tea. My wife had been shopping, and while I was sipping ray Hyson flavored with orange, she was showing me her purchases. She was expatiating oil a "love of a bonnet," when we were both startled by a violent ring at the bell, and in a minute or two afterwards a servant entered, informing me that Mr. Lawrence Ardrew wished to see me immediately. As -Ardrew was a particular friend of mine, I immediately ordered him to be admitted. < "Gunby," said Ardrew, as soon as he had paid his respects to my wife, I should have told you before that my name is Jonathan Gunby?"Gunby, I want you to do me a great 1 favor." "What is it, my dear fellow?" I replied. I could afford to be affectionate, for I knew 1 that Ardrew was too rich to want money. "You know I am a politician ?" said Ar- i drew. "I know you are," I returned, and not much good has it done you. To my certain knowledge you have not received a cent's 1 benefit from it. On the other hand, you > have spent a good many hundred dollars." "Just wait till is elected President, and then you win see; out tnat is not tne question. I am a delegate to the Baltimore convention, and I want you to act as my, substitute." "What!" I cried, jumping up from my i chair in excitement. "I, Jonathan Gunby, 1 wholesale provision merchant, act as a member of a political convention! Never, my dear friend, never!" 1 "But you must. I will pay all expenses, and the trip will do you good. I have noticed that you seem to be thinner than you ; used to be; a change is the very thing for you. The fact is, I have an important lawsuit going on, and it is utterly impossible that I can leave New York. You must do this favor 1 for me, my dear Gunby. "But, Ardrew, I never attended a politi- 1 cal meeting in my life," I replied, somewhat softened by the fact that aH my expenses would be paid. I should make a blockhead ' nf fnr T lrrmw nnftiinfir of t.hfi rillpS 1 and regulations of such assemblies." < "You don't want to know anything. All i that you have to do is to vote, through thick aud thin, for "But I don't like the man." "You have nothing to do with that. I do like him, and you will be voting for me." "You are right?I forgot that." i "Jonathan shall not go to that awful 1 rowdy city, Baltimore," said my wife. "He will be killed by the 'Plug Uglies,' 'Blood Tubs,' or 'Black Snakes.' It is not safe to walk the streets there. I'll never consent to his gftjng." "You neqd have no fear on that head, madam," said Ardrew. They have got a new police there, aud Baltimore is one of the quietest cities in the Union." I need not detail any more of the conversation. Suffice to say that Ardrew persuaded me to act in his place, and the hint of a handsome present from the monumental city so mollified my wife that she gave her consent. On the appointed day, provided with the necessary vouchers, I started on my journey, having first faithfully promised my wife that I would not venture in the streets of Baltimore after dark. I shall not detail the par ticulars of my journey. Were I to do so, I might describe how crowded we were; how we were annoyed by a squalling infant that it was utterly impossible to silence; how we were delayed in the crossing of the Susquehanna by some accident to the ferryboat; how I tried to read, but could not on account of the perfect Babel around me; how I en-1 deavored to make fun of the boys who sold apples, and had the laugh turned against me by those youthful venders of that wholesome fruit. All this and a great deal more I i might tell, but as every traveler goes through the same experience, it would only be repeating an old story. We reached Baltimore at last, and I was immediately driven to Bam urn's Hotel. I had some difficulty in making my way to the clerk's counter, the hall was so crowded with people. "All full, sir," said the gentlemanly clerk,; as I pulled the book toward me to enter my i name. There was no help for it. I went j round to the Gilmore House and received the ! same reply. It was the same with the Eutaw,1 and the Howard House and h^lf a dozen ' other hotels. It was getting dark, and I began to think I should have to sleep in the hack all night. "Try Old Town, Bill," said a friend to the hackman, who saw my dilemma. "They are only third and fourth rate inns, there," said the driver, "and perhaps the gentleman would not like to lodge there for a night?" "Anywhere that I can get a bed, my good fellow," I returned. "It is no use being particular at such a time as this." The horses' heads were turned round, and we proceeded down Baltimore street over a bridge which spanned a muddy stream of He did not move nor stir, and his body felt as cold as ice. "Great God !" I exclaimed aloud. "Can he be dead ?" I jumped out of bed. Morning had dawned, although the sun had not yet risen. I rushed to the window and pulled back the curtain. I then ran to the bed again and looked at my companion. My worst fears were realized. He was dead, black in the face?strangled in my sleep. I shall not attempt to describe my sensation at this horrid spectacle. My body was bathed in cold perspiration, my hands trembled, and for a few moments I believe I I was bereft of my senses. I recovered by degrees; but it was only to realize in a more acute degree the horrors of my situation. There lay my victim, and I was a murderer! My trial, conviction and the hideous gallows all passed in rapid review before me. Who would believe me ? I sat down, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed like a child. My wife, my own comfortable home?should I ever see them again." What was to be done? Should I arouse the house and make a clean breast of it? . 1J I o ..11 .1 TL.J l.lll.J very low, ana inclined in iront 10 me siope or thereof. "The apartment contained but one bed, which was placed against the wall near the door. At the opposite end of the chamber'was a table, placed between two windows, which looked upon the roof. The landlord placed the lamp upon the table, and then I "noticed that he shielded the light with his hand, as he passed near the bed. "Be sure and don't take the light near him," whispered the proprietor of the Golden Angel; "nothing wakes him sooner than that. You see I don't know how he might like my putting another man with him ; and he is a very ugly customer when he's riled, I can tell you." "I shull be careful," I replied. "That's right. Good night," he whispered, and left the room. He had no sooner gone than I cautiously sat down, taking care "not to make the least noise. I then calmly surveyed my position. It was certainly not a very enviable one. According to the landlord's account, my companion for the night was anything but an amiable character. If I should chance to awaken him I knew not what might occur. He might assault me dangerously before I could enter into any explanation. I half resolved to pass the night in the chair, and not retire to bed at all. But it was one of the old-fashioned high-back chairs, and made such an uncomfortable seat that I soon tired out. I then ventured to glance around the room. My eyes naturally fell on the bed. There was one thing that consoled me; my companion appeared to be in deep sleep, for he did not even move. I could see the ridge made by his feet at the end of his bed, and that was all. I also noticed that the bed was a very large one. The man who had possession of it lay near the wall, and there was plenty of space between him and the outside for me to lie without touching him. I screwed my courage up and began to undress?but I remembered the landlord's words, that the stranger was an "ugly customer when he was riled," which made me desist. The thought struck me that I might manage to lie on the floor, but a moment's examination settled the question in the negative, for the floor was entirely bare, and the air blew very cold through the wide chinks in the planking. I cast my eyes to the ceiling, and noticed for the first time that a heavy beam, studded with numerous hooks, ran through the apartment; but as I was not a bird and could not perch there, this dis covery was of little use to me. Half an hour passed away in this state of indecision. I stole cautiously to one of the windows, and gazed on the beautiful city bathed in the light of the moon. How quiet and calm everything looked! But the air felt fresh and cool, and I closed the window and resumed my seat in the chair. I then found myself wondering what avocation my friend in bed followed. I suddenly cast my eyes on a heap of clothes which lay on trunk, covered over with a handkerchief, no doubt belonging to the sleeper. My curiosity got the better of ray politeness, and before I scarcely kHew what I was about, I found myself examining his apparel. The handkerchief which covered them was a coarse cotton one, and his clothes of coarse homespun, and were such as are usually worn by drovers. My companion, then was evidently a drover?a rough class of men who usually stand upon very little ceremony. Partly undressed as I was, I began to feel very cold?but before venturing into bed I determined to try an experiment to see if the drover slept soundly or not. I had taken the precaution to leave the bed room door open so that I could make a run of it if necessary. I fixed my eyes on the bed as I let ray boot fall. The drover was evidently a sound sleeper, for although- the noise made was considerable, he did not make the slightest motion. This decided me, and I hastily hDisbecl undressing ana crept into neu. Of course, I was careful not to touch my companion. I do not know how long I lay awake, but the novelty of the situation drove sleep from my eyes for some time. By degrees, however, the strangeness of my position wore off. I felt reassured by my bedfellow's sound sleep, and the gentle murmuring of the breeze outside caused me to follow his example. I have 110 idea how long I slept before I commenced to dream. I suddenly, however, thought that my companion woke up and sat upright in bed; that he glared around him and at last his eyes fell upon me. He then uttered a terrible cry and threw himself upon me. In spite of ray natural cowardice, 1 saw if I did not struggle I should be killed. I thought I seized him by the throat, and tightening my grasp, I saw him getting black in the face. His hands fell powerless by his side,?smothering groan escaped him ; but still I pressed his throat tighter, tighter?his face grew blacker and blacker. In agony of fear I aw. ke, and what was my horror and dismay to find than my hand was really pressing my companion's throat. { water called .Jones' Fulls, I believe. We then plunged into a mass of intricate narrow streets, and at last stopped before the door of a very ordinary looking tavern. It bore a nondescript-looking sign, which I was told represented a Golden Angel, by which name the tavern was known. I entered and msde my stereotyped inquiry?whether I could have a bed there for the night. The landlord, a thick, burlylooking man, with a gleam of latent humor in his face, shook his head, and repeated the hateful words : "All full." I turned to go away, but was recalled by the voice of the host. "Would you mind sharing a bed with another party ?" said he. "If there is no help for it I suppose I must," I replied, "although to tell the truth it is by no means agreeable to me," and I inwardly heaped denunciations on Ardrew's head for persuading me to be his substitute. "Your bedfellow is a quiet fellow when he is asleep, although I must say he is violent when annoyed. He sleeps very soundly and all you have to do is to be careful not to wake him. He has r<eer-. in bed for some time." I must make a humiliating confession to the reader: I am not a brave man. I have oilcn tried to persuade myself that I am, but truth compels me to state that a greater coward does not exist than myself. The landlord's description of my bedfellow was anything but assuring, and I .was on the point ofdeclining, when the proprietor of the Golden Angel, no doubt reading what was transpiring in my mind, exclaimed : "You are not afraid, are you ?" "Afraid ! I should think not, indeed," I replied, for I was too much of a coward to brave being thought one. "I accept your offer of half a bed. Bring me some brandy and water and a cigar." I sat down at one of the little tables in the bar room, and puffing away at my cigar, I tried to persuade myself that I was very jolly. It was a miserable attempt, however. I had previously supped at a restaurant in a more modern part of the city. After my cigar was finished, I asked to be shown to my chamber. The landlord took upon himself the task of being my conductor, aod I followed him up a narrow, rickety staircase. We kept on ascending until we reached the top of the house, when we entered a moderately sized room, but much cleaner than I had expected to find it. The ceiling was * ? ! 1 /? . . .1 I cue wnat couiu i Buy i?ten lueiu x unu kiucu a raan in my sleep ? Not a soul would believe the story. Could I effect ray escape ? Impossible. The crime would be discovered before I could leave the city, and I should he hanged by the neck until I was dead. Hanged by the neck ! Yes, that would be ray fate. As this terrible thought crossed ray mind, I cast ray eyes around the chamber, and they fell upon the beam with the hooks in it. From thence they wandered to the handkerchief covering the dead man's clothes. A means of safety suggested itself to my mind. Suppose I could make it appear that the man had committed suicide. Yes, that was ray only chance, and I determined to put it into execution. I took the dead roan's handkerchief and advanced to the corpse with a great deal of repugnance, but with more courage than I could have anticipated. My own fearful situation no doubt animated me to an extent that I should never otherwise have dreamed of. I made a noose in the handkerchief and slipped it over the dead man's neck. I then lifted the dead body out of bed, and standing on a chair fastened the other end of the handkerchief to a hook in the beam. I now let the body go, and it swung in space. I jumped into bed, and, shut my feyes to close the horrid sight from my gaze. I determined to wait there until somebody would come into the room, and then pretend that I knew nothing at all about it, but that the man must have got up in the night and hanged himself. I lay quaking and trembling for over an hour. It grew broad daylight. I felt the sun shining directly on the bed, but I dare not open my eyes for fear that I should encounter the dangling corpse. Suddenly I heard the step of two men on the stairs. They appeared to be carrying something heavy between them. The long anticipated moment was approaching. In a few seconds more they would discover the body. My life depended in a great degree upon their opinion. If they were deceived by my ruse, others might be. The door opened, and two men entered the chamber, placing something heavy on the floor. "Well, I'm blessed if the man hasn't hanged himself again," exclaimed a voice which I knew to be the landlord's. "By golly! that's true," said the other man. "No, I see how it is. The stranger found out the trick you played on him, and not liking the idea of sleeping with a corpse, he tucked him up there to get him out of the way." "You'reright,"replied thelandlord. "Well, he's a cool 'un anyhow, and would you believe it, last night I thought he was a coward ? That only shows haw easy it is to be mistaken in people. And now he sleeps as soundly as a church : let's be careful not to wake him." I breathed freely, for I immediately understood the whole matter. The landlord had put me to sleep with a dead man. I heard them take down the body and put it into a coffin?for it was that which they had brought with them. They carried it away, and I was left to myself. With my mind thus relieved, I fell asleep and enjoyed two hours of delicious slumber. I then got up, dressed myself, and proceeded down stairs. "rin??d mnrninnr " anid T to tha landlord. who was behind the bar. "Good morning, sir," he replied, sheepishly ; "I hope you slept well." "Splendidly," I returned. "My bedfellow gave trouble at first, but I soon got rid of him." "I know you did," returned mine host, with a knowing wink. "Well, I must say, you are the coolest chap I ever saw." Not another word passed between us with reference to the affair. And I afterward learned from the conversation of the people while I was at breakfast, that my companion for the night was a drover, who, having made a ruinous speculation in cattle, had committed suicide by hanging himself in the chamber the night before. I left the Golden Angel that morning, having obtained quarters at Barnum's Hotel. I went to the convention, voted six hundred times for , and returned home, having given full satisfaction to Mr. Ardrew. I told my adventure to ray friends?not as I have told it to you, dear reader, but with the same construction that the landlord of the Golden Angel put upon it. Everybody thought I had displayed extraordinary cool -1 - A ' J?* rr\ it! I ness ana inirepiany. j.nere is one imug, uuwever, to which I have fully made up my mind, and that is, I will never attend another political convention as long as I live, nor sleep with a corpse if I can avoid it. Prerequisites of Success.?Integrity of character and truth in the inner-man are the prerequisites of success in any calling. These are attributes which never fail to command respect and win admiration. No one fails to appreciate them, and if they "do not pay" in the vulgar sense of the phrase, they bring an amount of satisfaction and peace to the owner that all the wealth of Croesus could not yield. There is no better stock in trade than these principles; no capital goes so far or pays so well, or is so exfimpt from bankruptcy and loss. When known, they give credit and confidence and in the hardest of times will honor your paper in bank. They give you an unlimited capital to do business upon, and everybody will endorse your paper aud the general faith of mankind will be your guaranty that you will not fail. Let every young man upon commencing business, look well to thesa inHisnensahle elements of success and ...Ww -?x? ? 7 defend them as he would the apple of his eye. If inattentive and reckless here, he will imperil everything. Bankruptcy in character is seldom repaired in an ordinary lifetime. A man may suffer in reputation and recover; not so the man who suffers in character. Be just and truthful. Let these be the ruling and predominating principles of your life and the reward will be certain, either in the happiness they bring to your bosom, or the success which will attend upon all your business operations in life, or both. Iffi- School teacher, to p little boy whose father is a grocer: "Now, Johnny, if your father has a barrel of whisky containing forty gallons, and one fourth of it leaks out, how many gallons does he lose?" Johnny: "He don't lose none j he fills it tip right away." HJiiSfftaflttS fading. THE OYEBCOAT POCKET. "My dear," said Mr. Spoopendyke,. feeling up the chimney, "have you seen my gold collar button ?" "I saw it the day you bought it," answered Mrs. Spoopeudyke, cheerily, "and I thought it very pretty. Why do you ask ?" '"Cause I've lost the measly thing," responded Mr. Spoopendyke, running the broom handle up into the cornice and shaking it as if it was a carpet. "You don't suppose it is up there, do you ?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Where did you leave it ?" "Left it in my shirk Where do you suppose I would leave it?in the hash ?" and Mr. Spoopendyke tossed over the things in his wife's writing desk and Joked out of the window after it. "Where did you leave your shirt?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Where did I leave my shirt! Where do you suppose I left it? Where does a man generally leave his shirt, Mrs. Spoopendyke ? Think I left it in the ferry boat ? Got an idea I left it at prayer meeting, haven't you? W?ll T ,j:,l..?t T loft u M ro ttnAArvnn. VT CI 11 A Uiuii U X 4VIV IV VU) ui i a* M|/uv|^u dyke, there's where I left it. I left it off. Hear me?" And Mr. Spoopendyke pulled the winter clothing out of the cedar chest that hadn't been unlocked for a month. "Where is the shirt now?" persisted Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Where do you suppose it is? Where do you imagine it is? I'll tell you where it is, Mrs. Spoopendyke; it's gone to Bridgeport as a witness in a land suit. Idea! Ask a man where his shirt is! You know I haven't been out of the room since I came home last night and took it off," and Mr. Spoopendyke sailed down stairs and raked the fire out of the kitchen range, but didn't find the button. "May be you lost it on the way home," suggested Mrs. Spoopendyke, as her husband came up, hot and angry, and began to pull a stuffed canary to pieces, to see if the button had got inside. * . "Oh, yes! Very likely! I stood up against a tree and lost it Then I hid behind a fence so I wouldn't see it That's the way it was. If I only had your head, Mrs. Spoopendyke, I'd turn loose as a razor strop. I don't know anything sharper than yon are," and Mr. Spoopendyke got up in a chair and clutched a haud full of dust off the top of the wardrobe. "It must have fallen out," mused Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Oh! it must, eh! It must have fallen out! Well, I declare, I never thought of that. My impression was that it took a baggy and drove out, or a balloon and hoisted out," and Mr. Spoopendyke crawled behind a bureau and commeuced tearing up the carpet. "And if it fell out, it must be somewhere near where he left his shirt. Now he always throws his shirt on the lounge and the button is under that" ./ A moment's search established the infallibility of Mrs. Spoopendyke's logic. "Oh, yes! Found it, didn't you ?" panted Mr. Spoopendyke, as he bumped his head against the bureau and finally climbed to a perpendicular. "Perhaps you'll fix ray shirts so it won't fall out any more; and may be you'll have sense enough to mend that lounge, now it has made so much trouble. If you only 'tended to the house as I do to my business, there'd never be any difficulty about losing a collar button." "It wasn't my fault " began Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Wasn't,eh! Have you found that coal bill you've been looking for since March ?" "Yes." "Have, eh ! Now, where did you put it! Where did you find it ?" "In your overcoat pocket." ^^.4 NARROW ESCAPE IN BATTLE. Many computations have been made of the number of bullets fired in battle for every man killed. The following stories, collected by the Detroit Free Freet, show how near some of the stray bullets come to doing fatal work: At the battle \)f Peach Orchard, when McClellan was making his change of base, a Michigan infantryman fell to the ground as if shot dead, and was left lying as the regirvAQi'tinn Tho hall rohi/?h hit. I lli^U I) V/UAUgVU pVOIbiUUi AUW ****** IIMCWM mmmw him first struck the barrel of his gun, glanced and knocked a button off his coat, tore the watch out of his vest pocket, and then struck the man just over the heart, and was stopped there by a song book in his shirt pocket. He was unconscious for three quarters of an hour, and it was a full month before the black and blue spot disappeared. At Pittsburg Landings member of the Twelfth Michigan Infantry stooped down to give a wounded man a drink from his canteen. While in the act a bullet aimed at his breast struck the canteen, turned aside, passed through the body of a man and buried itself in the leg of a horse. The canteen was split open, and dropped to the ground in halves. At the second battle of Bull Run, as a New York infantryman was passing his plug of tobacco to a comrade, a bullet Btruck the plug, glanced off, and buried itself in a knapsack. The tobacco was rolled up like a ball of shavings and carried a hundred feet away. Directly in line of the ball was the head of a lieutenant, and had not the bullet been deflected he would certainly have received it. As it was, he had both eyes filled with tobacco dust, and bad to be led to the rear. At Brandy Station one of Custer's troopers bad bis left stirrup strap cut away by a grape-shot, which passed between his leg and the horse, blistering his skin as if with a red hot iron. He dismounted to ascertain the nature nf his ininrv. and as he bent over. a bullet knocked his hat off and ; died his horse. In the same fight was a trooper who had suffered several days with the tooth ache. In a hand to band fight he received a pistol ball in the right cheek. It knocked out his aching double tooth and passed out of the left hand corner of his mouth, taking part of an upper tooth aloDg. The joy of being rid of the tooth ache was so great that the trooper could not be made to go to the rear to have his wound dressed. An object, no matter how trifling, will turn a bullet from its true course. This was shown one day at the remount camp in Pleasant Valley. They had a "bull pen" there, in which about five hundred bounty jumpers and other hard cases were under guard. Once in a while one of these men would make a break for liberty. Every sentinel in position would open fire, and it did not matter in the least if a man ran toward the crowded camp. On this occasion a prisoner made for the camp, and as many as six shots were fired at him without effect. One of the bullets entered the tent of a captain in the Twelfth Pennsylvania Cavalry. He was lying down, and the course of the bullet would have buried it in his chest. Fortunately for him the candle by which he was reading sat on a stand between him and where the bullet entered. This was struck and cut squarely in two, and the lighted end dropped to the floor without being snuffed out. The ball was deflected, and buried itself in the pillow under the officer's bead, passed out of that and through his tent, entered one behind it, passed between two men, and brought up against a camp kettle, SOMETHING ABOUT "BOOTS AND YARBS." The gathering of roota and herbs for medicinal purposes gives employment to many persons in rural districts throughout the country. A Cincinnati reporter lately "interviewed" an old herb collector, and the following is a portion of the man's account of his business, with therapeutical observation interlarded "Yaller root, or golden seal, is worth seven cents a pound. It is used for raakin' washes fur sore eyes an' mouth. Burwane root is used in makin' ager medicine; it is hard to git, and brings eight cents a pound. Butternut bark bringt! as high as three and four cents; that's what yer physickin' pills is made of; jist bile it down till it gits thick like paste, and then roll it into yer pills ; it is also used for dyeing purposes. Hoarhound is used in making cough syrup; it brings eight cents a pound, although it is plentiful; some places it grows so thick yer can mow it with r scythe. Another herb is lobelia, and I git 10 cents a pound fur it, but the price is falling. If yer ever want to git rid of what's inside of yer, jist make a tea of lobelia leaves, and I'll bet my team of hosses out there it'll accommodate yer. I bought in a good many Indian turnips, tbis Fall, and 1 got eight cents a pound fur 'em. They are used in cough medicines. Silk-weed root is used in ager medicine, but it is scarce ii> my part of the country; it is worth 10 cents a pound. Pennyroyal and peppermint brings 10 cents a pound, but when dry it takes a heap to make & pound. There are a good many kinds of bark used. There's white oak. bark, the best thing in the world to check the bowels, where it. is made into syrup. Yellow poplar bark used with wild-cherry bark, prickly ash, dog-wood bark, and wahhco, is good for consumption. Slippery elm bark ie ground up and used for poultices; good to take out fever; it's worth 10 cents a pound. Then there's elder bark; take it, beeswax, mutton taller, and a leetle rosin, and it m ikes the best kind of salve for fresh cuts. Boneset is an herb that grows about three feet high, with leaves of a milky color ; it generally grows in old pastures; it is used for colds, and is worth 6 cents a pound. Old held balsam looks a good deal like boneset, only it don't grow so high; it is used for the same purpose. I've sold lots of catnip to these druggists, but what it is used for, more than to nourish babies with, I don't know. I sell these fellows here all sort3 of roots and herbs, even to mullen and plantain t J A 1 .1 x _/ leaves, wmcn mey maae saive uui ui. tvujt, efren these old gypsum weeds bring 3 cer ts a pound, and even sunflower seeds. Why, a couple of years ago I sold two busheln of sunflower seeds for $21. They buy pumpkin ' and watermelon seeds, also, ter make kidney medicine out of" ? ? COMPETITION IN BUSINESS. An honorable rivalry in business is tc be commended, but dishonest methods to secure patronage should merit prompt rebuke. Ii is natural that competition should exist, but it does not follow that it should be of a base character. To sell certain articles below cost to bait the public, and then place extra values on other merchandise to make up the difference, is an unfair method to establish. It is a species of deception, mean in principle and disreputable in practice. It smackn of the mock auction plan, and is akin to the uawdust swindle. It holds out to the unwary the promise of great bargains, which is not fulfilled if their purchases extend beyond the few articles sold under value as an advertising dodge. If consumers would exercise a little common sense, they would know that a merchant cannct thrive who professes to sell his wares below their cost. If this is his rule of business, it lasts but a brief period. A crash follows, and honest creditors are swindled out of their money. It is a well established fact that the merchant who makes a fair profit on every article he places on sale can afford to sell his goods cheaper than one who offers a portion of his wares bolow cost and then puts an additional profit on tho remainder. Selling articles at 10 per cent, below their value, and, to equalize profits, placing 30 per cent, extra on others, is a specks of competition that is injurious to regular^rade in any community. It is a merchant's duty to realize a reasonable advance on every article he sells, as it is only in this way that he can expect to succeed and pay his obligations. This, of course, does not apply to styles that are out of season or to stock on hand that ' i I_li_ A. may oe more or less uuaamuio, me uistnuution of which can only be made through concessions from the regular prices. The competition in the retail trade is more active than in the wholesale, and the practice of selling below cost is therefore more general. There is le-38 excuse also for this course to be pursued among jobbers, as they are men trained to business, having long experience in mercantile affairs, and aro not ignorant of the sound methods of dealing. An open, fair competition is healthy, as it breaks up monopolies and has the effect of placing a reasonable value on commodities. An honest, legitimate management of business is the only sure way to permanent success, and money earned through straightforward methods generally stays with its possessor.-? ?/. 8. Economist. THE SIN OF EXTRAVAGANCE. Spurgeon's plain talk on "Economy and Debt" ought to be pasted inside the hat of every spring householder: "Living beyond their income is the ruin of many of my neighbors ; they can hardly afford to keep a rabbit, and must needs drive a pony and ch iise. I am afraid extravagance is the common disease of the times, and many professing Christians have caught it, to their shame and sorrow. Good coti,on or stuff gowns are not good enough nowadays; girls must have silkB and satins, and then there's a bill at the d ress* ? - - - _?_a?f 3 ....'4^ maxers as long as a wioier s uigm auu ?juue as dismal. Show and style and smartness run away with a man's means, keep the family poor and the father's nose on the grindstone. Frogs try to look as big as bulls and burst themselves. He is both a fool and a knave who has a shilling coming in and on the strength of it spends a pound which does not belong to him. Cut your coat according to your cloth is sound advice; \ut cutting other people's cloth by running into debt is as like thieving as a fourpence is like a groat. Debtors can hardly help being liars, for they promise to pay when they know they cannot, and when they have made up a lot of false excuses they promise again, and so they lie as fast as a horse can trot. Now, if owing leads to lying, who shall say that it is not a most evil thing. Of course there are exceptions, and I do not want to bear hard upon an honest man who is brought down by sickness or heavy losses; but take the rule as a rule, and you will find debt to be a great dismal swamp, a huge mud hole, a dirty dit ch ; happy is the man who gets out of it after once tumbling in, but happiest of all is he who has been, by pod's goodness, kept out of the mire altogether. If you once ask the devil to dinner, it will be hard to get him out; of the house again. Better to have nothing to do with him. Where a hen has laid one egg she is very likely to lay another; when a man is once in debt he is likely to get into it again; better keep clear of it from the first. He who gets in, for a penny will soon be in for a pound, and when a man is over slaoes he is very liable to be over bo ?ts. Naver owe a farthing and you will n< ver owe a guinea,"