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lewis m. o'rist, proprietor. $niif{itnlitnt ^Httilg ftetospajtr: ^for % ^romotiira of % political, j&ocial, ^gricnltaral aab (Jtrmmtrrial |ntmsts of % ?ont|. terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 26.. YOBKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, A.TJG-TJST 19, 188Q. 1STO. 34. ^elected f'octfw. FATHER FOOTS THE BILL. Let folks delight In envious spite, So would I have tbem do ; In drosses line I love to shine, For 'tis my nature to. Such goods I buy As please my eve, And have the best f will; I do not care How rich or rare, For?father foots the bill. When Tuesday comes My kettle-drums Are very hard to beat; None but the best; Do I request, Because it is but meet. Though poorer far Than others are, I strive to beat them still ; And very few Can me "outdo, For?father foots the bill! A coach and four Stands at my door, E'er ready at my call, And glad and gay I speed away, . To opera or ball, Where I outshine The jeweled mine, Such rays my gems distil; Others are laic. Far in the shade, And?father foots the bill! I almost worry, I'm nearly sorry, To think of poor papa, Who toils away Both night and day, A-drudging at the law. And he avers Times can't be worse; They're hard enough to kill, And says it takes More than he makes For him to foot the bill! Too sad, no doubt, To think about These things are unto me ; We can't abate The ways of Fate, And so I let them be; It is my doom In gilded room To live for pleasure still, On Fashion's throne I sit alone, And?father foots the bill 1 ?hc Jdcu'tf leUw. _ THE SECRET OF THE WHITE CHEST. It was just the house I wanted. In size and situation it suited me exactly, as the phrase goes, literally down to the ground. Facing Hyde Park, and placed back from the high road, with nothing in front of it hut the broad strip of garden belonging to the terrace, in which it stood, and the open stretch of turf and trees, it was the very best abode for a T.J . T.? 4. liOQUUlI S^nSUUi XIO iciii-, iuuj nuo ^aiiuiu^jj i moderate ; it was in sound repair; drainage J without a flaw ; fixtures, fu rniture and decorations in the best taste; the owner only deairing to let it occasionally, because he went away from town each Spring. Why, then, did I hesitate to take it? Why did everybody hesitate to take it ? For the last seven years and more it had never been let. All the house-agenta at the West End had had it in hand one after another. Tiae terms had been reduced each season that it came into the market, and still there was no finding a tenant for it. Everybody who went over the house : was charmed with it. The entrance being in [ the rear, all the best rooms had a delightful i southern aspect ; and going up from floor to I floor on their first visit of inspection, everybody grew more delighted the higher they got. The apartments increased in cheerfulness, if not in size, the outlook from the windows be came more extensive and airy, while, when one reached the top story, and ascended by a narrow stair on to a leaded flat roof^ with a high balustrade running round it, the view j was, as the house agent expressed it, "quite unique." Nevertheless, everybody having reached the roof, and having looked round for a minute or two, descended with a firm deterruina tion not to take the house. Now, what was the reason? It was not haunted, no ghosts had ever been seen, or mysterious noises heard?such things were never "hinted at. There was uothiug about it in appearance like ; the gloomy forbidding mansion in Severn J Square, concerning which so many queer sto-1 ries are told, and which, like the house in ! question, no one will take. No, it was the I very reverse, in all respects, of the loDg (and j still) untenanted abode. I had heard the rumors about the Hyde Park house often, when I had been in London, and my curiosity had always been piqued,so that now, when I want-. ed just such a house for the season, I deter- j mined to go and look at it for myself. Finding all satisfactory and just as I ex- ' pected, from bottom to top, I was stepping out j on the roof with Mr. Crumble, the agent, and was saying to him : "Well, I can't conceive why people won't j live here," when my eyes fell upon a curious : object upon the leads at the rear, and sur-1 rounded by a high railing. It looked like a huge sky light or glass lantern, about ten feet' long, three high and three broad. But in-! stead of forming a light for a stair case or ! room beneath, it seemed to have been built i for the purpose of covering another curious j object, which, occupying nearly the whole of' the space under the glass, was plainly visible through it. This was a long white box, re? sembling a seamau's chest more thau anything, only much larger. It rested upon four legs, or feet, which raised it about a foot from the I flat surface of the roof. It was painted a creamy white and varnished, and, apparently not being intended to open, any more than its glass covering, had no hinges or lock to its top or lid. "What the deuce is that ?" said I to Mr. j Crumble. "Ah !" replied that functionary, with an odd expression in his face, "that's it, sir?" "What's it, pray ?" "Why, the secret, sir." "The secret ? How is it a secret ? What do you mean ?" "Well, sir, what it is, what it's meant for, what's inside of it ?" "Don't you know?" "No, sir." "Doesn't any one know?" "I suppose somebody docs, sir, but we do not; we are forbidden to inquire, or to attempt to find out; if we knew we should be able to let the house, perhaps." "How long has it been there?" "A long while I believe, sir?ten or twelve years. Before my time." "But who put it up ?" "Well, Mr. Gayling, we suppose; nobody seems to know exactly when it first appeared there." "But the servants," I protested, "they must know." "Oh! I have heard there were none in the house at the time; they were all dismissed just before it was put up. Mr. Gayling never keeps many servants ; sometimes he has only one. sometimes none. Nobody lives in the house when lie's away, but he always leaves the keys with us. He is always changing his servants, Mr. Gayling is; I have often heard him say that he likes new brooms." "What is he, or what was he?" "A gentleman in the naval line, I believe, 3ir; they are rather rum 'uns, I'm told." "Humph!" I said, "very odd. But do you mean to tell uie that nobody will live here because they don't know what's in that box ?" "That is partly the reason, sir." "Absurd" I was going on, when the man 1 continued : I "But there's a clause in the agreement about it; that's what does it, sir." "Explain," I said." "Well, sir, here is the clause," and he produced the document; "perhaps you would j like to read it yourself?" j Thus it ran: "And in taking the house, at the rental, i and for the term specified as above, I hereby I solemnly pledge my oath never directly, or I iudirectly, through my own agency, or that ; of others, to attempt to meddle with, to dis; turb the white chest under the glass case ot | the roof, or to seek in any way to discover for j what purpose it has been placed there, or what it contains; and I further guarantee that no person in my employ, nor any one entering the house during my tenancy thereof, -1.-11 ?-i ?l 1 r snail mane any sucu aiiciupt, auu x undertake that in the event of their being detected in doing so, or of my doing so, to forfeit the sum of one thousand pounds, and in accordance with this agreement have, in proper legal form, lodged the said sum with the bankers of Thomas Gayling, Esq., the lessor, as a guaranty of my good faith." * "But for that clause," went on the agent, as I finished reading it with some surprise, "we should have no difficulty in letting the house." "Pray is the owner out of his miud ?"' I asked in a minute. "Not that I am aware of, sir; he is a very pleasant, affiible gentlemen, Mr. Gayling is, only, as I say a little rum on some points; j nothing will induce him to strike out that clause, for instance. Lord bless you, sir, parities never entertain it for a moment; when ' they come to that part of the business, they drop it like .a hot potato." "Humph 1" said I again. "It's queer, certainly, but I don't see why one shouldn't acquiesce ; it doesn't matter a rap to me what's inside the chest, I should never want to meddle with or disturb it, and I'd take very good care no one else did. I would padlock the trap-door on to the roof, and that would settle it. Ah!" I continued, after walking round the structure and looking about roe a kif?"oli ? T awi nropHiit.imis Viftvp hoon taken to prevent any access to this roof from others on either side, by this iron cheval-de-frise; yes, no one can get over this. Well, it's an odd freak, but I am not sure that I am going to be balked by it; I'll "think about it, Mr. Crumble." And the result of my thinking was, that I signed the agreement two days afterward, having conformed to the peculiar stipulation regarding the deposit. I had no fear of losing the thousand pounds; the interest on it was a mere addition of the rent, and the house was so exactly what I wanted that it would even then be cheap to me, with my large famiiy of motherless children.* Nevertheless, I do not deny, that after all was signed, sealed and settled, I was conscious of a lurking curiosity and suspicion regarding that mysterious erection. What strange freak could possess the man to take such strong measures to guard against any penetration into the secret?measures, bythe-bye, whun in themselves were rather calculated to provoke investigation, to draw attention to the very thing he wished one to overlook ? Was Mr. Gaylinga raiser, hoard-1 ing up some unknown treasures in this strange fashion? Probably that was it. Well, if it was, it was no business of mine after all. My parliamentary duties would be too urgent, I hoped, to let me dwell upon much else, so I would dismiss it, and beyond putting the padlock on the trap door of the roof as threatened, I took no measures to prevent any of ray household indulging in speculations. I at least would not direct attention to the matter, as Mr. Gayling did, and contented my family and domestics by saying that I didn't consider it safe for people to go on the roof. Now, in spite of ray resolution, I found myself perpetually recurring to the strange chest. For the sake of quiet and air, I bad appropriated the two large back and front ro:>ms at the top of the house for ray bedroom and study, and thus slept every night just beneath the white chest. Before I hud beeu in the house a month, it began to act as a nightmare on me, an incubus I could not shake off. I was oppressed and depressed by it, in a way quite unaccountable. I was puzzled at myself; I could not have believed four weeks before that I should ever have become so affected by such contemptible restlessness, disquiet and distrust. These feelings at last reached such a pitch that I finally changed my bed-room. I would not sleep any longer directly underneath this accursed fabric. Another ruonth passed, during which, more than once, I was tempted to go secretly on to the roof and look at the thing again. There was no harm in that; that was not forbidden in the bond, aud I need hardly say, I saw nothing to provoke any new comment. About a week after my last visit to the roof, a lengthy debate kept me late at the House of Commons, and walking home for the sake of fresh air, I found the midsummer dawn breaking, as I struck into Park Lane. Reaching Oxford street I was startled by observing in the western sky a strong light, not due to reflected suurise. At the moment I saw it a fire engine passed me at full speed, and presently the first sign of the commotion, which a conflagration causes! in the streets became evident. No man uu- \ dergoes this experience, when he has been j away from home many hours, and sees the red glare rising iu the direction of his own house, without a pang of anxiety, if not terror. How well-founded this sensation in the present case was made evident ere I had walked another two hundred yards : yes, merciful powers ! it was my house that was on fire! i I can scarcely record what followed. I 1 only know that somehow I found myself in the midst of the police and firemen. That I explained to the superintendent who I ; was, aud that under his escort I soon ascertained that all the inmates of my house, my children, their governess, and the servants, ; were in safety, and had been taken into a neighbor's at the rear; that as soon as I found this to be the case, I, accompanied still by the superintendent, mounted to the top of r* r\ o/liononf inKanno tlio firnmnn W11 wvjj?/ 1 vciuvtivvj 11 uviivw vtiv ut vtuvu were directing the hose upou the flames. Once on this vantage point my mind reverted to the white chest. Was it still there ? jYes; the flames, though bursting out from j all the windows of the upper stories, back and front, had not done more than wrench and crack portions of the glass-case. For a time it seemed as if this would be most that might happen. The water seemed to be getting the upper hand, and as it fell in torrents on the hot roof, such clouds of steam were thrown up with the smoke as would have completetely hidden everything from view, but that our position had been skillfully selected, and was well to windward of the burning mass. But presently amid the roar of the flames, there came a dull, heavy rumble for a moment, and down it went deep into j the utter obscurity of the dense smoke and steam which always succeds to this climax of a confligration. For several minutes nothing was to be discerned through the overwhelming wreaths of black-gray fumes. But pres* j ently, through the light from the fire that had I been quenched, there began to be visible, by I the aid of the increasing light of the morning, the depths of this pit of Acheron. Yet it is not so very deep after all, for the fire having originated on the second floor the falling roof | had onty crashed down as yet as far as the drawing-room, and there, when my eyes had become accustomed to the spectacle of the indescribable debris, I plainly beheld, resting j slautways across a stubborn remnant of wall, | what had been the white chest; it was now j split and smashed, and its contents were re! vealed. Good heavens ! what was it that I looked down upon ? I turned my face away for a moment with a shudder, for there protruding through the splintered fragments of its once creamy white wooden case, was a huge leaden ! coffin, which in its turn melting and bursting j with the heat, displayed within the unmisj takable form of a shrouded corpse ! I was in the act of drawing my companion's attention to it in horror, when suddenly there flew up around it with redoubled fury, such a mass of flame and smoke, that it was entirely hidden, and soon the fire had so spread and burst out again, that the horrible spectacle of this unintentional incremation was shut from sight, and the house was burned to the | ground! I pass over what immediately followed I after I had made my way back to the friendj ly abode where the members of ray family i were sheltered. In a few days they were snugly settled again in anothor house fortunately not very much the worse for the terrible scare. In due course the time arrived for looking into my losses, and while I was doing so I received a letter from Mr. Gayliug, who had come to town requesting an interview. I was glad of this, for I saw it must lead to some explanation of the strange circumstances surrounding the agreement I had signed. My curiosity as to the contents of the white chest had been rudely satisfied, it was true, but what had been the reason for placing such an object in such a place? This I was determined to find ?ut. Mr. Gayling disclosed it to me immediately as we met. "I have asked for this interview, sir," he said abruply, "because I am a ruined man." "But," I interposed, "I am told you were fully insured." "That has nothing to do with it it," he answered ; "no insurance can restore the three thousand a year which I lose by what has happeued. I am simply going to tell you certain facts ; betfaTrse, -When you have them, I shall put it to you whether you wHTTiSff ! out of your ample means, feel that some compensation is due to me. The fact is, that it has been during your tenaucy of my house, and through accident or negligence, on the part of some one for whom you are responsible, that my ruin has been brought about." "I dont understand you." "Listen, sir," he went on, "and you will: I was brought up at sea and followed it till mid-life, for I was sntirely dependent on ray own earnings. My only relative at this time was an uncle, also a sailor, and a most eccentric man, as you will presently see. Fifteen years ago he suddenly came into possession of a large sum of money. I never knew how, but lie retired and took that house. He had only been in it three years when a mortal sickness overtook him, and he sent for me. " 'Tom,' said he, 'I am dying, and I don't like it; I am terrified, not so much at the thought of death, as at the thought of burial ; a sailor's grave I would not mind, but to be boxed up and thrust into the earth, no, Tom, I won't stand it. I look to you to see that it doesn't happen ; and I have taken measures to make sure that you do see that it doesn't happen. I've made my will, Tom. I've left you all I possess, but on one condition, and it is, that you are my heir so long as I am well above ground, and no longer? mark the words, "well above ground." Directly I am buried, or my remains are allowed to mingle with mother-earth, as she is called?she was no mother to me, the sea was my mother, for I was born at sea?all my money, mind,'goes to the Seaman's Hospital, every penny of it.' "But what am I.to do?' I asked of my uncle ; 'how shall I be able to carry out such a strange condition ? Have you so expressed it in your will ?" " 'Yes, indeed I have," he answered ; 'and legal and binding you'll find it, as expressed in the words, "so long as I am well above ground." " 'But what am I to with you ?' I again aeked. ' 'Oh, run me up aloft, masthead me, anything you like, but don't bury me.' "Well," went on Mr. Gayling, "to make a long story short, I found that the conditions of the old man's will were binding and his executors and myself hit upon the plan of hoisting the coffin on the roof of his house. Under certain conditions we tound that it was possible for us legally to do this. So I dismissed my three servants, employed a country undertaker, my old ship's carpenter, and a foreign glazier, in order that the matter should not be talked of in the neighborhood, and personally saw the arrangements carried out. You can now understand my reasons for not having it meddled with ; yes, sir, and you can now understand that the condition of the will must take effect. No sign of the coffin or the body even was to be discovered in the ruins of that house. I have had a rigid search made, to no purpose; the old gentleman's remains have been consumed, have mingled with mother-earth, and the money passes as a matter of course to the Seaman's Hospital. I have not a penny in the world. What can you do for me?" It is not necessary for me to say what I did for Mr. Gayling, but finding by a visit to Doctor's Commons, and by other evidence, that his story was substantially correct, I felt his case was a hard one, certainly a strange one, and I acted, I hope, not ungenerously toward him. A Wife's Power.?A good wife is to man wisdom, strength and courage; a bad one is i confusion, weakness and despair. No con| dition is hopeless to a man where the wife | possesses firmness, decision and economy. j j There is no outward propriety which can j i counteract indolence, extravagance, and folly : : at home. ' No spirit can long endure bad in- j I /I _ IT l...i 1 _ V. _ _ -1_ r nuence. ivian is strong, out 111a neart is not: adamant. He needs a tranquil mind, and es-! pecially if he is an intelligent man, with a! whole head, he needs its moral force in the : conflict of life. To recover his composure,: home must be a place of peace and comfort. < There his spirit renews its strength and goes forth with renewed vigor to encounter the la- j ; bors and troubles of life. But if at home he ' ' finds no rest, and there is met with bad tern-; per, jealousy and gloom, assailed with com- j : plaints and censure, hope vanishes and he , [ siuks iuto despair. Sleep for Children.?There is no dan- j ger that children can sleep too much. The j old proverb, "Who sleeps, eats," is illustra-; ! ted in those little ones who sleep most., ! Wakeful children are almost always peevish, | i irritable and lean. If they can be induced ! to sleep abundantly, they are quite likely to i become good-natured and plump. Their sleep should be as much during the hours of darkuess as possible, and therefore, it is better that they should go to bed before sunset to ! have their sleep out, than to lie long after i sunrise in the morning. It is well to let any ! healthful, growing child, or young person ! sleep until he wakes himself, and then give him such variety aud amount of outdoor exercise as shall make him glad wnen bed time returns. Uliscclliiucfltts fading. For the Vorkvllle Enquirer. MAJORITY vs. PLURALITY. Mr. Editor : Having no personal interest involved, but prompted by a desire for the welfare of my country, I request a space in your paper for an article in advocacy of the majority system of primary election. The question, whether the pluralities, or the majority rule of making nominations by primary election, shall be adopted is, in the opinion of the writer, one of more grave importance than any other that will be presented to the coming convention for settlement, as the final determination there involves, possibly, not only the welfare of the Democratic party, but also that of the State itself. It will not be denied that the plurality system is the most expedient, in so far that it affords cheaper facilities for the selection of candidates. But the grand important question for consideration, is whether or not the advantage of expediency attached to the plurality system, counterbalances the evils that may arise from the adoption of such system ? The prevalent objection that has heretofore been urged against the Convention system of making nominations is, tnat system aoes 1101 secure a just expression of the sentiment of the people. Now, I contend, that the plurality system is just as likely to fail to secure au expression of this sentiment as the Convention system, provided there are a sufficient number of opposing candidates. And there is no doubt, this last provision will be fulfilled to the letter. As an illustration, suppose there are five candidates for an office in which there can be but one incumbent?say the Clerk's or Sheriff' 's?and that the whole number of votes cast should amount to 2,500. Now suppose No. 1 of the aforesaid candidates to receive 500 votes, and the others each to receive less than 500, say 400 ; can it be contended that No. 1 has the sentiment of the majority in his favor ? By no means. Either of the candidates who have received only 400 votes might, if j^edligainsriiin^higry, Teceive the whole of the two thousand vote3 that No. 1 failed to get on the first election. Increase the number of candidates to ten, and see by what an insignificant minority a candidate might be nominated. But say some, "the plurality plan is the one that prevails in the "general election" and therefore why not in the primary ?" The answer is simple. Because one is a governmental measure and under the circumstances is the only possible expedient; the other a party measure, introduced to meet the objection that is urged against Conventions, to obtain an expresion of the sentiment of the people, to prevent dissatisfaction and to preserve unity in the ranks of the party. Before closing, your correspondent would say that he feels it his duty as a citizen to freely conform to which ever system may be adopted, and to devote his energies in making the best of the situation possible. Civis. MY WIFE'S RELATIONS. "Broiled Spring chicken for tea, eh ?" said I. "And lobster salad and fried oysters! Upon my word, this looks as if we were going I )t 10 nave cumpnuy. "So we are, ray dear," said my wife, looking a little guilty, as she polished up the surface of the big silver tea-tray with a new chamois leather. "They are all come to visit me?Uncle Silas, and Aunt Milicent, and the children, and Cousin Joab, and the two Miss Wilmerdings, and my Aunt Louisa, to meet the Reverend Mr. Speakwell, from Minnesota, who married my second cousin, Jerusha Wilde. Mr. Speakwell is troubled with the catarrh, and he thinks of staying at our house for a few weeks, while he is being treated by Dr. Dosem." I put down my linen duster and brown paper parcels with some emphasis. "Oh, confound the Rev. Mr. Speakwell!" said I. "John 1" ejaculated my wife. "Well, my dear, I can't help it," said I.? "It's not in human nature to stand everything. And I've been relationed out of all patieuce since our marriage. The Jenkinses went away last week, the Birdsails took an affectionate leave yesterday, and now, just as I was contemplating a peaceful evening by ourselves, here's a new swarm, hungrier than the rest, just ready to settle down upon us! In my opiuion, Kitty, my dear, relations should be abolished." "I am surprised at you, John," said my wife. "My own people that are so fond of me." "There's where you are mistaken, my dear," said I. "It's your comfortable spriug beds and good cookery they are fond of, not you." "John." "I'd be willing to wager a good round sum on the truth of my assertion," said I. "Because you have no relations yourself?" "Thank Providence for that !" said I devoutly. "I was reared in a foundling asylum and have nobody to thank but myself for mv tolerable success in the world." - - J "It's no reason why you should find fault with mine," said Kitty, with her bright, blue eyes full of tears. "And Mr. Speakwell is such a spiritually minded man, and dear Uncle Silas loves you just as if you were his only son, and Cousin Joab is so interested in our children." "I'm much obliged to 'em," said I, dryly, "but I slept all last week on soft cushions laid in the bath tub ; and we had fourteen people here over the anniversaries; and I was obliged to give up my own room for a month last Winter to old Mr. Manswell, not to speak of our being half poisoned with Aunt Louisa's Hygeiau messes in the Fall. When thg poet said, 'There's no place like home,' I presume he meant when there were no relations visiting. "I'll tell you what, ray dear," with sudden inspiration, "I've a great mind formally to deed over this house to your relations, if they will agree solemnly to leave me in peace for the rest of my life, wheresoever I may set up my family tents." "Nonsense!" said my wife. "Do go up stairs and change your things, and brush your hair and get ready for tea. They're all waiting in the best parlor, and I was expecting your return to see about hiring some cot beds from the village hotel, to put up in the attic for those four little. Speakwell children. You see, Aunt Louisa has the little blue bedroom, and Cousin Joab sleeps iu the wingi chamber, and Mr. and Mrs. Speakwell will have our room, and?" "Indeed !" said I. "And we are to sleep ' in the barn. I suppose?" "Don't be cross, John," said my wife, ap; pealingly. "One must be hospitable, you know. And I can easily make up the sofai bed in the back parlor for our own use, for a j week or so." I I said nothing, but ground my teeth in i silent despair, as I sprang up the stairs, two . steps at a time, to make what changes I I could in my toilet, by the aid of a ten-by I twelve glass hung over the washstand of a | stuffy little bath room. The Rev. Mr. Speakwell was a big man with a still bigger voice, and a limp, faded little wife, whose sole earthly interests seemed } centered in her four white-eyed, freckledj faced children. Uncle Silas and Aunt Meli* j cent were a silent couple, with excellent appei tites, and two tall boys who giggled and ; snickered at each other in the intervals of the i conversation. j Cousin Joab talked incessantly with his j mouth full, and the two Misses Wilraerdings i served as general echoes to the rest, while Aunt Louisa devoured lobster salad ad libitum, and kept on sending up her cup for more green tea, until I trembled for her nerves. While my wife, careful and troubled like Martha of old, with many things, looked ready to drop with the hospitable exertions she had made, I was sitting a mere cipher at the head of my table, and felt as if I was keeping a boarding house without any of the pecuniary emoluments therefrom. "My trunks will be up here in the six o'clock train," said the Rev. Mr. Speak well: "I'll trouble you cousin Poyntz, to send an expressman to the depot for 'em. And if there's any apartment in this domicile, cousin Poyntz, that couW be fitted up as a study for my temporary use, it would greatly facilitate ray intellectual occupation during my sojourn in the suburbs of this great city. And I must beg that you keep the house very still during the hours which I devote to study." Here my wife looked at me aghast thinking of little Johnny and the baby. "Never mind my dear," I remarked eotto voce, we can easily get 'em boarded out somewhere. "And," went on the Reverend Mr. Speakwell, "I would esteem it a favor if a horse and buggy could be procured for my daily ! use when going to Dr. Dosem, in the city, as the motion of the train disagrees with my nervous system. "I don't happen to own a carriage, but I might buy one," said I. "Thank you, thank you, cousin Poyntz," said Mr. Speakwell, blandly. "And if there's any other little thing you should happen to want, pray don't be backward in mentioning it," I added. "No, I won't cousin Poyntz," said the reverend gentleman, with the utmost gravity. And I am bound to say he kept his word. For thr?e days I endured the swarm of visitors which literally infested my home, and then I made up ray mind that patience had ceased to be a virtue. "I'll put a stop to this thing," said I. I came home one night with a tragical expression on my face. "Katherine," I said to my wife, "I am ruined." "What!" cried all the company at once. "Those shares in the Western Union, you know," said I, smiting my forehead. "Yes, dear, gasped poor Kitty. "They have gone down," said I. "Not worth a penny." "Oh ! John." "I wish I had taken your advice, and let 'em alone," said I. "But, after all it doesn't matter so much, as if I had no friends." I '.ooked beamingly around at my wife's relations. They returned the glance by the blankest of stares. "If I borrow $200 apiece from all these dear kindred," said I, with obtrusive cheerfuluess, "and request Uncle Silas to endorse my business notes?" "I couldn't think of such a thing," hurriedly interrupted that gentleman. "I should be most happy to oblige, but I am quite out of funds at present," said Cousin Joab. "And I," said the Reverend Mr. Speakwell," pushing back his chair, "must save what little share I possess in the world's filthy lncre to pay my passage, and that of my family, back to Minnesota." "Surely," cried I, "you would not go away and leave me in such pecuniary straits as these." The Reverend Mr. Speakwell significantly buttoned up his pockets. "It is every man's business to look after himself, Cousin Poyntz," said he: "and I do not scruple to say that it is downright dishonesty for a business man, like yourself, to get into such financial difficulties." And in fifteen minutes every cousin on the lot had, upon one excuse or another, vanished from the room, to pack and prepare for immediate departure. I looked at my wife; my wife looked at me. I burst out laughing; Kitty began to cry. "My dear," said I, "it's an easier job than I thought it would be. I didn't know but that it would be necessary for me to catch the small pox before I could get rid of your relations." "But are we very poor, John? And must we give up this dear little cottage ? Oh ! how cruel it is of Cousin Joab, and Mr. Speakwell and Uncle Silas, and all of them, not to help you! I know Marianna Wilmerding has 85,000 that she wants to put out at interest, for she told me ouly yesterday, and?" "Yes, exactly," said I. "But probably she doesn't regard me as a good investment." "After all I have done for them !" sobbed ILAJ WilU. "Relations are only human, my dear," I said. The company took their leave without much ceremony or adieu, and that afternoon my wife came to me, with tears in her eyes. "John," said she, "will you tell me how much money you have lost in that horrid Western Union stock? Because I would rather know the worst at once." "Lost ?" repeated I, looking up from the newspaper, which I was reading in Uncle Silas' favorite easy chair, now vacated for the first time in many days. "Why, who said I had lost anything?" "You did." "Excuse me, my dear; I said nothing of the kind. I merely stated that the Western Union shares were not worth a penny. Neither were they, to me, as I had sold out all I possessed a week ago." "John ?" "Yes, my dear." "How could you ?" "Very easily," said I, with a latent smile. "My dear, "I think if your relations had stayed another week I should have committed 6uicide." "And you told that horrid story just to get rid of them." "I made that unimpeachable statement with that precise intention." "They were rather trying," confessed Kitty. "And I think they might have helped you a little when they thought you were bankrupt." "They will not come visiting here again," said I, quietly. And I was right. They did not. Blacksmitiiing in Gkrmamy.?In the interior towns and villages of Germany, it has been the custom for many ye^rs for the farmer to purchase the iron for his tires, and horseshoes, and in some instances, when having a new wagon built, to purchase all the iron entering into the same, the lengths of every piece being furnished him by the smith. One part of the contract is that the smith shall return to the farmer all ends and cuttings from the iron, and it frequently occurs that the farmer remains at the shop until the iron is all cut up, in order that the smith shall not indulge in too much cabbage. Each smith shop has what is termed "the hell," and in cutting off a set of tires, if the farmer be ! not present, the largest half of the end cut I off finds its way to "the hell," the duty of putting it there devolving upon the youngest apprentice. From this always plentiful store the smith furnishes his materials for the manufacture of bolts, horseshoes, etc., for transient customers. The horse shoeing part is also a feature; the farmer will bring with i him the end of some piece of iron or tire, J with which to make the Bhoes, or perhaps a j dozen or more old horseshoes to be converted i into new ones* The farmer must blow the i bellows until the work is forged or the shoes ' all made, and must then hold up the horse's i foot while the shoes are being driven on or taken off, and invariably carries the old shoes home with him, unless he prefers to give the old shoes in payment for the apprentice's service iu holding up the feet. t A LAWYER'S STRANGE BREAM. On the night of the 2d of February, 1864, I was in a state of nervous excitement, called -- i ?? i i ir?j by physicians "watching, ana in a nan aream and half sensible state, when I had a kind of vision, in which I seemed to have an inter- j view with the blessed Saviour, though it was all evidently the work of my own imagination. I expressed the deep anxiety I felt on account of the deficiency of my faith in the Holy Scriptures in general, but especially in certain much contested points on the subject of Miracles and of the Trinity. As it seemed to be lamenting my situation the blessed figure appeared to be attentive, and when I said that I was disheartened and nearly in despair, after so long and anxious consideration and examination of these subjects, without having arrived at any satisfactory conclusion. With a smile of inexpressible benignity and commiseration, He asked me how old I was. I answered 64. "That is," said He, I "768 months, or 3,072 weeks, or 18,432* days. To test how deep your anxiety may have been, and how intense your labors, I will ask how many of those 768 months you have employed in carefuUy examining the evidence of the truth of Revelation ?" I could not state positively that I had employed one whole month in the uninterrupted examination. He then asked how many of the 3,072 "weeks I had been so engaged ? Again, I could not say that I had devoted one entire week to this object exclusively. Again, he asked how many of the 18,432 days of my life had been earnestly and exclusively dedicated to this all important subject ? Here I felt my cheeks burning with shame, when I foaad myself compelled to answer that I had frequently read, examined and thought "Spoil this subject parts of many days and nights, but-dared not",say I" could remember any particular day when I had set myself down to the labor of scrutinizing the evidence as a matter of study and continue it without interruption one whole day. His next question was, "What is your occupation ?" I answered that of Counsellor and Advocate in the Courts of Law." "There," said He, "you must have been very much engaged in examining critically the subject of evidence?" I admitted that I had been. "Were you required to undergo labor and severe training in the preparation for practicing your profession ?" 1 answered in the affirmative. "How many years are you required to labor thus 7 ana are you examined irom time to time to test the progress made?" I answered, "three or four years, at least, and examinations are frequent and thorough to test the progress made." "How is it finally ascertained that one in your profession has made sufficient progress to qualify him for practicing the law of our country ?" I answered, after ygars of study, the applicant for license to practice is required to undergo a searching examination by the Judge of the highest Court, in solemn form, and if be exhibits sufficient knowledge he is admitted to practice in the Courts." "When cases involving life or property to large amounts are brought before your Courts, do such cases require severe mental labor ? and is there much time dovoted to preparation for trial ?" I answered, "There is required much labor and time in such preparation." He then asked, "In cases involving life, what kind and quantum of proof are deemed necessary to establish the guilt or innocence of the party charged ?" I replied, "That, by our law, the higher th$ crime charged, the more clear and conclusive the proof must be to eonvict the person charged." He followed up the last question with this : "Even where life itself is at stake, is the proof required to be conclusive as-to exclude all hypothesis of possible innocence?" It was answered, "By no means; legal certainty, though held necessarily superior to moral certainty, is, nevertheless, but the preponderance of probabilities." He then spoke as follows: "It seems, then, that, although great care is taken in qualifying one of your profession to judge correctly the weight of evidence ; and that in a trial where death is the penalty, very great labor and deep interest are bestowed in the examination of the evidence ; and, indeed, that men of character do not think they have done their whole duty as counsel, unless they have thus anxiously labored to save life, yet you confess that you have not, as you first stated, 'considered and examined so anxiously and laboriously' the proofs relating to that life which, unlike the transitory state called life in this world, is eternal and unchangeable. So that; by your own confession, it appears you have spent years in preparing yourself, by study the most laborious, and anxiety the most intense, to defend from death the lives of your fellowmen, but have not spent one year out of 64, one month out of 768, one week out of 3,072, nay, not even one day out of 18,132, to save yourself, not from a temporal death, but from death eternal." Overwhelmed with the shame of such an exposure of myself, which was felt the more keenly from the fact that there was not the least severity in the look or language of the speaker, my agitation was insupportable and I awoke. The next morning I wrote down this singular dream. H. W. 1. e. wee* uay??wuriuiig uuyo. A Scotch Faster.?A Scottish lady happened to be conversing with a Courier-Journal reporter the other day when the- subject of Dr. Tanner's fast came up. She did uot think the Tanner experiment wonderful. Then^he went on to tell of a case of fasting in Scotland. The River-Clyde one day broke through its bed and the water rushed into the mines below. A number of miners were drowned, the suddenness of the flood cutting off all escape. One miner got into an old shaft that had been abandoned, and here he found himself safe from the water. A worse fate however now stared him in the face. It was impossible for him to climb out, nor could he make himself heard. There seemed no possible means of communcation with the world above. At the end of sixty days some slow-going person of an inquiring turn took it into his head to examine the old shaft as he felt a little curiosity to know whether the waters of the Clyde had found their way there. Tying a piece of lead to a rope, this investigating person let it down into the shaft, and he thought after he had lowered it that he could hear a human voice, but the tones came faintly and he might have misheard. After a while he hauled up the lead and was surprised to find a piece of clothing attached to it. The poor wretch below was still alive and had managed to make that sign. Assistance was immediately, called, men were lowered into the shaft and the starving man was brought to the surface nearly dead.. He had been all the time without food, but had been within the reach of water and tenaciously clung to the hope that he would be rescued. * * ' The greatest interest was excited in the case. It was thought the unfortuuate man would lose his life, but, with careful nursing, he at length recovered to tell his remarkable story and to be the wonder of his day.?Louisville Courier Journal. violinIiaking. The question whether violin making is a lost art is answered in the negative by G. L. Chaplin, who has been an enthusiastic student of the subject for thirty years. Nothing relating to music, he says, has been more fruitful of silly legends, romance and superstition than the violin. Not that the old masters did not produce some graud instruments. But it is a mistake to suppose that they worked by a rule, system or secret, which invariably gave good results; that a violin is excellent simply because it bears the name of Da Salo, Maggini, Amati, Str-adivarius, or Guarnerius, or that the best productions of these masters can never again be equalled. Stradivarius, for instance, made more poor than good violins, and made more bad ones than any other maker of the great period. He is said to have turned out 2,000 instruments, but only twelve really fine ones of his make are now known to be in existence. Da Salo and Maggini each made less than 500 instruments, but only about, a dozen of each maker are extant. In a recent work on the subject, Charles Goflrie, after an examination of the Cremonas in the collections of Plowden, Gillott, Villaurae, Bojour, and others, says that he "found that they were decidedly hard in tone, resembling new instruments." And Prof. Le Brun, who played in the same concerts with Paganini, and had in his hands nearly all the noted Cremonas fifty and sixty years ago, says that the Guarnerius from which the great violinist drew such wonderful tones would have attracted little attention in the hands of an ordinary professional. Mr. Chaplin's conclusion is that "the old makers made some instruments as gcod as can be made, emphatically no better. Also, they made some instruments as good rs can be made now, but the larger number made by them are not up to the present standard of power, and the few that are up to this standard are in the hands of artists or in collections, and entirely out of the market. A large number of good violins have been made since the great period, and it is safe to ? say that a large number of instruments bearing the marks of the old makers and ac credited to them were never near Cremona." The old instruments do not appear to have been made according to any fixed ride or principle, but on the "cut and try" plan. . Nor is there any uniformity in their make, or published directions concerning their construction^ Mr. Chaplin tells us that he has ownedtwo of the mastere' instruments of the great period and fifty instruments of the best reputed imitators, has examined mere., than 2000 other violins of various grades an d patterns, and has read what has been published on the subject, but that he has failed to find "even how long to make the f's in a given sized instrument, to say nothing of where they should be placed." He gives certain ratios, measurements, and directions for constructing a violin in accordance with the laws of sound, and remarks that "instruments made to demonstrate this theory can be seen." Violins, he claims, can and should be made on scientific principles, as other musical instruments are. As good violins can be produced here as have been made in Cremona, and the chief reason why this is not done, he says, is that the people will not pay for them. THE U. S. ARMY IN 1845. In 1845 the U. S. Army consisted of eight regiments of infantry, five of artillery and two of dragoons, by which name the cavalry was designated. Theses, with a small general staff and an engineers' corps, composed all the United Estates Army, w inueiu oeuit was Major General in command of the army, General George B. McClellan was second lieutenant in the Third Infantry, so obscure that bis name was printed "Geo. C. McClellan." In the same regiment Don Carlos Buell was also a second lieutenant. The Fourth Infantry contained two second lieutenants who made their names memorable in the civil war, on opposite sides?General Longstreet and Ulysses S. Grant. Longstreet had then been in the service two years, while Grant had quitted West Point but a year previous, and was "attached to the army as a supernumerary, with the pay and rank of second lieutenant." William T. Sherman, present General of the Army, was first lieutenant in the Third Artillery, as was Gen. 0. C. Ord. Robert E. Lee was a captain of Engineers, as was George W. Cullom, while under them in the same corps were General P. G. T. Beauregard?who has since dropped the "P" in his name?General M. C. Meigs, General W. S. Rosecrans and General H. W. Hallech, the last two being ranked as second lieutenants only. In the topographical corps were first lieutenants Joseph E. Johnston and John A. Macomb, who fought afterward on opposite sides. General C. C. Augur was a lieutenant in the second infantry, in which Simon B. Buckner and Gen. R. S. Canhy, who was assassinated by the Modocs several years ago, were second lieutenants. Genral Abe Buford of Kentucky, the wellknown turfman of to-day, was then a second lieutenant of the First Dragoons, of which regiment Wm. J. Hardee, of "Hardee's Tactics," and one of the hardest fighters of the Confederacy, was Captain. Gen. John Sedgwich was first lieutenant of the Second Artillery. The Sixth Infantry roster, however, contains more of interest than any other. Of that regiment the Colonel was Zachary Taylor who now sleeps quietly in the land of his birth, after having been gallantly amid all the glories and rigors of the war with Mexico and occupied the Presidential chair. In that regiment Frederick T. Dent, brother-in-law of Grant, was a second lieutenant. The last - - - ' ? * . _ wsLajj of the list oi second lieutenants was winneiu S. Hancock, who had just graduated from West Point with Grant. Make Room for Others.?The more a man sees of the world, and the more he mingles with others, the smaller space he is inclined to claim for himself among his fellows. He sees that, in the pushing struggle of life, other people's rights must be considered, and he must not take more ground than just enough to stand on. This is very marked in ail crowds, and in all public places and conveyances. Tbe man or woman who is best versed in society makes smallest demands and occupies least space. The persons who take more room than belongs to them are those who have been least in company, least accustomed to adapt themselves to the needs of those about them. If you want to be thought well-bred, traveled, cosmopolitan, keep in your elbows in a crowd, and sit close in a street car. ..If you want to be thought boorish and uncultivated, and to be recognized as one who was never much in good company, push both sides of you, as well as in front and rear, in a crowd, and spread yourself out in a car, or in a public hall. It is by such indications as these that we see that the demands of Christian regard for the rights and feelings of others secure the best results of good breeding. J?* There is a man at Laury, Va., who became convinced, when young, that kissing wa9 wicked, because Christ was betrayed by a kiss. He resolved never to kiss anybody. He has been married twenty years, aud is the father of eleven children, but bas never kissed his wife or one of his offspring.