Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, March 31, 1881, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j f^n Jniitpcnlttnt JamilD ftetospaptr: Jor f|t promotion fff t|e IJolitical, Social, ^jriraltaral anil Commercial Interests of Sont|. |terms--$2.50 a tear, in ad-vance. VOL. 27. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 81. 1881. ' NO. 13. ^elected ifoctrw. THE CHANGE. Out of the long dresses And into the dainty frocks, Little blue shoes with buttons In the place of the worsted socks; No longer a helpless baby, Carried in arms all day. But a restless, mischievous fellow, Brimming with frolic and play. Getting himself into troubles That seemingly have no end, Tearing "big holes" in his dresses For patient mamma to mend ! Bumping his curly round noddle Which mamma's soft kisses must cure ; And meeting a hundred misfortunes Which babies must learn to endure. Too soon shall I lose my baby, And do the best I can To welcome the magical power Which changes the boy to man ! Oh ! that the years were slower In rolling the months way, And would that for many a season My baby a child might stay! I wonder how he is dearer As only a babe on my breast ? Or changed to this roguish fellow Whose feet are never at rest! " -ooaKn.! fho ovcaotor Before'tin a full-grown rose? Ah ! the love that is born with the baby Must grow as the baby grows! A CASE OF JEALOUSY. Fred. Kenuedy is my best friend. We were in college together, and deep in one another's confidence. He studied law, and commenced practice in the city ; I read medi. x cine, and opened an office in the country.. But Fred, got in love and forgot me, until about three months after his marriage, when I received a letter from him which troubled me very much. It was full of vague hints of sorrow, and anger, and despair. He wanted to see me. He must see me and tell me what he could not write. It was a week before I could leave a patient dangerously ill ; but one afternoon, after three nights of watching, I threw myself and my carpet bag into the cars, for the city. I slept all the way, only disturbed bv two punches in the ribs and au equal number in my ticket, and at eight o'clock found myself ringing the bell at the i ' door of Fred's pretty residence on, street. A trim servant girl answered to my summons. I knew by her look that she had heard of me, and suspected who 1 was. Mr. Kennedy was at home, she said, and was in the parlor, the door of which-she swung open to me, after I had laid aside my overcoat. I entered the door, but the parlor seemed to he empty. I looked about the walls, but the ouly thing which fastened my attention was the exquisite portrait of a beautiful woman, almost enveloped in the misty bridal veil?a very marvel of painting?through which shone out the most golden ringlets, and a face of sweet beauty and rare intelligence. It seemed strange that the parlor should be liirhtod e/\ hril liontlir und bo without, nn occupant, and I advanced towards tthe portrait without noticing that a deep easy chair, its back toward me, was planted before it. I . soon perceived that it was occupied, for an embroidered slipper peeped out from one side, toying lightly with the air, as if the heart of the one who wore it were absorbed in happy contemplation. I coughed slightly, and in an instant Fred. Kennedy was on his feet, and I was in his arms. I never saw him so extravagant in his demonstrations of delight. He shook my hands a dozen times, slapped ray shoulders, caught me by the arm ami whirled me around the room, poked the tire, and laughed as if he were insane. "By George! Tom Conway, I am glad to see you, said he, at last, fairly puffing with the demonstration he had made. "I had begun to suspect something of that kind," I replied, rubbing my shoulder. "I think you must have been cultivating your affections lately." "Well, I have. What do you think of thai ?" And he turned me around, and pointed to the portrait. "Exquisite !" I exclaimed. "Magnificent, isn't it?" "Mrs. Kennedy ?"' "Mrs. Fred. Kennedy." "Very pretty, she is painted." "Ha, ha, ha, ha !" "Now, Fred," said I, seriously, "sit down. | You are too much excited. It will be the death of you. I have comedo see*you profe-sionally. Your letter?" "The letter!" "It's a clear case of insanity," I 'continued. "If I am favored with an interview with the j original Mrs. Kennedy, I shall reprimand J Avr? 1ai> ?mir? r aii mIama \ /ill ? InMor l\n. 1 11^1 1VJI IC/aTIll^ UIWU^I JL Will IVl IVI uv trayed the most distressing symptoms. I was afraid that I should find you had committed suicide, but I see that there has been a reaction." I said this in a bantering way, but I noticed that Fred's countenance changed, until its expression was oue of mingled vexation and pain. ' No more of that an' thou lovest me, Tom," j he replied, and then added, "Alter you have j had supper I will tell you all about it.; Jane is a good creature, and has gone to 1 the sewing circle. Those things bore me, and she insisted upon my staying at home, i We shall have a good hour together before her return." Fred, sat almost silent with me, in his snug little dinning room, when I did justice to my appetite and his hospitality ; then we returned to the parlor, and I gave myself up to slippers, a cigar, and Fred's story. "When I wrote you that letter," said Fred, "I was a fool, but I was very miserable, nevertheless. You see, before I was married, there was a young man in the city, of the name of Benton. He loved Jane ; I found it out, and I hated him. He was a quiet fellow, with a dark, soft eye, and a romantic air, and I can't express the contempt I felt for him. He seemed to me to^be a perfect milk-sop. It was before I was engaged, and I used frequently to meet him with Jane, at her father's house. I saw that he was in love head and ears ; and what vexed me be j yond everything else was, that Jane would always treat him respectfully. After he had parted from us on oue occasion, and she had treated him with the usual consideration, I was determined to bring matters to an end. I proposed before I left, and received the assur% ance that I was the chosen man. Well, Benton continued to call. I do not think he knew of the new position of affairs, but it made no difference. I determined to cut him, and I did. I met him in the street in broad day and cut him dead. Who should I find that night with Jane but this contemptible Benton? He had risen to leave the room with agony depicted upon every feature of his face. 1 saw it all at a glance? he had proposed and been rejected. All the devil there was in me rejoiced. I have no doubt that I grinned maliciously upon him as he passed out. I could heartily have added a kick to the repulse he had received. But Jane was distressed. She was sorry for him ! Site wouldn't have it happen for the world ! She respected Mr. Benton so much ! Mr. Benton is a fool, said I. Don't waste your precious sympathies on such a creature as he. Mr. Benton is a gentleman, replied Jane, and thou the poor girl turned pale, the tears j swam in her eyes, and she hid her face in j her handkerchief, and sobbed hysterically, j I saw that I had been unjust?that l*had i been mean and cowardly?that my words and bearing had been hateful and contemp tible?that there was not the slightest ground : for my feelings, but I was too proud to con; fess it, so I approached and kissed her fore; head, and asked her to forget the matter. I met Benton in the street frequently after this, and was wicked enough to rejoice in i his woe begone appearance. I was stirred to this partly by the fact that he had once or twice called upon the family, and had been treated with the most considerate cordiality. The fact was, I loved Jane almost madly, | and somehow I could not bear to have any other man think of her. Cards were distributed for the wedding, and one was s.nt to Mr. Benton. But this gratified my malice. It seemed cruel to invite a man to 1 itness the consummation of the i ruin of his ho; 2s ; so I was pleased ! I doubted whether he would come, but he was there, ! nnlm otirl reonllomuillu thuf T POIlld not. | help feeling how mean I was in his presence, i and this, of course, did not help the matter, j I was now more offended with him than ever. I could almost have quarreled with my wife, even on the wedding night, because she treated him with such marked attentions. I determined at any rate that I would cure her liking for him, and was almost maddened to hear her express the hope that he would not forget her when she should become settled in her new home. A few weeks passed away, and he called at my house?at my house! And Jane very coolly informed me of it. I hope you had a pleasant time with the getftleman, I said, dryly. I saw the fire flash in Jane's eyes as she replied, Mr. Benton is always pleasant. There was an emphasis on the word "always" that offended me. I will not tell more of that foolish scene. Enough, that I was thoroughly discomfitted, and came out of it hating Benton the more, as I was convinced that he was a better man than myself. I could not bring myself*to command my wife not to see him, without a single reason, so I took my satisfaction in behaving like a bear, and making her miserable for a week. Some days had passed away when one evening a party of merry friends came in, and Jane's bridal array became the subject of conversation. A lady of the party expressed a wish to see some article of ornament belonging to the bridal dress. Jane endeavored to change the conversation. I saw that she was troubled, but repeated the lady's request. She replied the article was hot at home. I inquired of her whom she had lent it to. She replied that she had not lent it; and her lips f ramklo/4 r? ?i /] l-w? okoolr O Kit * i\ nrl Q O cKo OQ 1^1 Li t/iiJ uitu, auu LiiLLng uuiuvu MO OHV it. The ladies saw that soniethiug was wrong, aud immediately turned attention from the subject. But I was aroused. In my excited and suspicious state of mind, I fancied a hundred things, and somehow they were all associated with Benton. I determined to ascertain where that article had gone. First, I took occasion, during my wife's absence from the house one afternoon to ascertain that there was not a single article of her bridal attire in the house. I knew that the whole would jpake a formidable package, which she could never, or would never, have carried away. Who did carry it ? Somebody, probably, who belonged iu the house. I called the girl whom you met at the door, and asked whether she carried from the house lately a package or a baud-box belonging to Mrs. Kennedy. She colored deeply, and acknowledged that she had. I inquired as to where she had carried it. She was very humble, and deprecated my displeasure, but very positively declined to tell me. I coaxed her, undertook to bribe her and threatened her, but all to no purpose. Not if I were to cut her iu pieces would she tell me. My suspicions were thoroughly aroused, and I believed :"rom the bottom of my soul that the detes' able Benton somehow was connected with .he matter. It now became me to put on a smooth and affectionate exterior, for I had a secret to fathom. I received Jane, on her return, with the old fondness, and we passed an evening full of misery to me, but overflowing with happiness to her. Where to begin investigations, I could not tell. I was afraid the servant would tell Jane of our conversation; but, as she thoroughly loved her mistress, she promised that if I made no difficulty about it she would uot tell her. I had no resource now but to watch. The next day, iustead of going to ray office, I took a cigar in the reading room of the hotel, and seating myself by a wiudow that gave me a view of my residence, I kept my eye on the door. I had sat there perhaps half an hour, when Jane's most intimate lady friend (Miss Kate Stephens) went tripping uunu tut: sticcb tuiu cuicicu wic uuuac. n. few minutes passed away when she and Jane emerged ; both were bonnetted and cloaked. I slipped out and followed them at a distance, through half dozen streets, until at last they turned in at an open doorway. I marked the number and then went to my office. I was iu a fever of excitement. That was evidently no place for ladies to call. That door opened into a blind looking stairway. There was no name on the door. The next thing for me to ascertain was the name aud character of the persons occupying the rooms above. I went to my diuner as usual, and played the careless and happy to the best of my ability. My wife was in a gay mood, and seemed almost hatefully charming and brilliant. I kissed her and bade her good evening, pleading business as my excuse for leaving her alone. My steps almost involuntarily took the direction of the morning walk. I was moving briskly along, when I discovered a familiar figure before me. I knew it was Benton the moment I fixed my eyes upon it. 1 unconsciously took his pace, keeping at a safe distance, and followed street over street by that same path upon which I had followed my wife. As we approached the suspected door I fairly held my breath. My blood curdled, and every hair on my head seemed to rise with apprehension. I was not mistaken. He mounted the steps, and turning on his heel, coolly paused to pick his teeth as I ground mine together and passed by. I could not yet bring myself to the humilii i * L TL ation or ciououng my wiie s trum iu me. 1 ?u fact that lier friend accompanied her certain- j ly did not tend 10 this conclusion ; but the consciousness that she still retained a warm < j respect for Benton, and that she had met him in an obscure room for any purpose, distract- j ed me. But I had prudence enough to determine to wait for the denouement, and in the meantime to maintain as strict a surveilance of both parties as was possible without endangering detection. Three days passed away and nothing occurred to prove that the visit had been repeated. In the meantime Jane wus as happy as a lark. I watched her sometimes while she sat at her needlework, and frequently saw a peculiar smile on her face. On one of these occasions I abruptly asked her what she was thinking of, and though I importuned her with some degree of severity, I could get no satisfactory*reply. The matter very soon began to wear upon my spirits. I was frightened by my haggard aspect whenever I looked in a mirror. Jane noticed the fact and became extremely anx ions for me. He * affectionate attentions were : more assiduous ,han ever, and I was made ashamed of my suspicions, for I could not doubt the genuineness of her solicitous appre heusions." Still the facts would recur, and I passed many sleepless nights revolving them. , One day, while sitting in my office, my perplexing thoughts overcame me, and I penI ned the letter which you received from me. I could keep still no longer without telling some one of the weight that oppressed me. I took the letter to the office myself; and as I felt that solitude would only render me more miserable, I did not return, but kept along through the streets. Involuntarily, almost, I so directed my steps as to take the street which contained the secret that was tormenting me. I selected the dflor at the distance of a block ; and my heart sank within me as I saw a gentleman taking leave of a 11 lady upon the steps. They could have been? they were?no other than my wife and the miscreant Benton. There was no lady with her. I could see that they were laughv n tMowHiln j aig lun 11 j j I had a revolver in my pocket, loaded and capped, and my hand sought it and was glued to it as I approached the spot. But Jane did Dot see me, and tripped off in the opposite direction. Benton remained in the doorway, and with an eye fixed madly on him, I approached him. He did not shrink from my look, but returned it with a smile that puzzled me. I know not what it was, but there was something in the mild, pleasant eye of the man; and in his unruffled and unsuspecting look, that disarmed me. The nearer I approached him, the more disconcerted I became, but as I had evidently aimed at him in my progress, I felt that I could not avoid him ; and I determined moreover that I could and would bear the suspense no longer. "Good morning, Mr. Kennedy," said Benton. My voice was startlingly husky to myself, as I returned the salutation. "You are just too late to see a very beautiful woman," said the man with just the slighest tremor in his voice. My blood took fire at once. "Sir," said I fiercely, ^'you are a scoundrel!" "What?can?you?mean,?sir ?" inquired the man, opening his eyes with wonder. "You are a damnable villain, sir! that is what I mean?an infernal, smooth tongued hypocrite. I have found you out, and before I part with you, you shall in some way give me satisfaction. The man's eyes actually filled with tears. Fie trembled from head to foot, and I thought he would fall. I saw guilt in every look and movement, and saw that I had him, and believed that I could do what I chose with him. "Have you a room in this building, sir ?'' I demanded. "I hftVfi" "Lead me to it." ! There was hesitation in his look, and I repeated my demand with an oath. He stood irresolute for a moment, and then said if I would wait a moment UDtil he had adjusted some affairs in his room, he would comply ' with ray demand. This added new food to ( my suspicions, I and cursed him for his art- i fulness. He could not deceive me, and I reiterated my demand that he should show ! me the room at once. I did not think that up to this time the ( shameful nature of my suspicions had really ! been apprehended by him. When these dawned upon him, there was a fire in his eye i and a quick, painful swelling of his veins ( and muscles which I pray God I may never see again. Pain, indignation and determination were all there, and I felt in a moment that I had roused a nature whose depth and strength I had failed hitherto to measure, j With great self-control however, he said, i "Mr. Kennedy you are unjust to a woman < whose happiness, I fear is dearer to me than ] to you. Did I feel at liberty to disregard ; her peace, I would sooner hug a dagger to my heart than to yield for a moment to your < insolence. Even now you can only enter my I room on my conditions. Stand here for a I moment and I will call you." I "Take your own course," I dfiggedly re- I plied. He passed up the stairs, and I, to avoid ] suspicion, looked up at the sky. It was one ( of those calm winter days that show a heaven, j as pure and blue as if a storm had never ( stained it. I had stood thus hardly ten sec- i onds, when Mr. Benton desceuded a few j cfone orwt ennl-e mv nnmp T fnllnwpH him - up the.stairs through a dim passage into a j room chaste in its appointments, but filled i with a light as soft and pure as if even the ( glorious day without had been refined by pas- < sage through some rare medium. In my < state of mind I could hardly comprehend i the objects before me at a glance. But I j knew that I was in an artist's studio. Benton was silent, but my eye selected at once i the prominent painting of the apartment. ( I looked and was struck with a fit of shiver- j ing. It was the portrait of my bride?my i darling Jane ; I was dumb. I could not have I spoken had it been to save my life. ( I have no idea how long I stood thus, when ( Mr. Benton approached me and took my un- ' resisting hand. . , "Mr. Kennedy," said he, with a choking sound in his throat, "I knew of no proper i way for me to contribute to the happiness of one whom I have loved as I can never love another, except by doing a pleasure to the i mau whom she has honored with her love. I 11 thought it would be pleasant to you to have a portrait of your wife as she appeared in her < bridal attire, and at my solicitation she has j been here a number of times to sit for her i picture. Her friend, Miss Stephens, has been < here with her, and your servaut had just passed from sight when you came up, with the package containing her dress. If I have < done wrong, forgive me; but I thought it j would make you all so happy !" ] As he closed these words, uttered wifli honest emotion, every one of which went like a i dagger to my heart, I found strength to lift i my eyes to his. The big tears were hanging to his eyelids, and his face, in that exquisite light, was as beautiful as if it had been the face of an angel. We looked at one another | a moment, and then, moved by a common impulse, threw ourselves into one unother's arms, and cried, sir?cried like two babies. i 0, my God, Tom! that was the hardest thing that ever happened tome. Iwaskilled? killed by a magnuniinity too great for my mean heart to fathom. 1 seized him by the arm at last, led him down stairs, and took the way to my own house. You know my impulses, and you know I could not stop until I liad ntade a clean breast of it. I went straight to my house, kissed Jane a dozen times, told ! the whole stdry and made myself ridiculous Poor Jane ! she was ashamed of me, and I do not think she has got over it yet. "And Benton"?I suggested. "Benton remained and drank tea with us, ' I i. -M J in accordance w:tn my earnest wisnes, aim sent the picture home the next day ; but he has not been here since. I doubt whether he will ever come again. The fact is, your friend, Fred. Kennedy, has never feltso humble as he has since that day, and I have wondered how Jane, who knew us both well, could have made the choice she did between us." "So have I," I most emphatically respond- j ed. "Well, now I am bothered to know what to ' do with Benton. He is too proud to receive j any favors of me. I cannot offer him money, I cannot offer him anything. I'll tell you what I've been thinking about, and you shall tell me how it strikes you. You see what a fellow I am. I shall tear myself all to pieces in a few years, and I have brought myself to this. Before I die I will make a solemn request of Jane to marry Benton for a second husband." At this moment Mrs. Fred. Kennedy appeared, her*cheeks flushed to vermilion with the effect of the cold evening air. I did not wonder at the ennobling influence of such a pure beauty as hers upon Benton's sensitive mind. Fred, introduced me, and somehow we all found ourselves before the portrait at once. "I've told Tom all about it," said Fred, to his wife. Mrs. Kennedy gave him a look of wounded reproach, and then said to me in a way which spoke volumes, "You know Fred." Fred, has become an humble man, and bids fair to put off" the day of Mr. Benton's hap piuess to a very indefinite future. Besides, his family has been increased to that degree that it would be doubtful whether the artist would he willing to take the bereaved Mrs. Kennedy with the "incumbrances." Still, I have no doubt that Fred's, imaginary sacrifice has served its purpose in restoring, in some degree, his self-respect. DttswUattflws gUading. "the public highways." ? - An Abstractor the Statutes of Sooth Carolina Relating to Roads and Bridges. i John S. Verner, Esq., in Keovcce Courier. THE DUTIES AND POWERS OF COUNTY COMMISSIONERS. Article 4, Section 19, of the Constitution of South Carolina, gives the County Commissioners jurisdiction over Highways, Roads and Bridges. HIGHWAYS AND ROADS. They have power to open new public loads and to discontinue old ones. In order to open a new public road they are required to appoint Special Commissioners, whose duty it is to survey the route of the road proposed, to lay out the same, and advertise it three months, in the settlement through which the intended road is to pass. For such work Special Commissioners are allowed $3 per day and mileage five cents per mile?for necessary travel. 15th Statutes, Page 970, Section 13, Act 29th March, 1875. The right of appeal lies in the decision of Special Commissioners, in the same manner and with like authority, as is allowed by law from the acts of County Commissioners. When a road is so laid out it is to be recorded by the County Commissioners and ordered worked as other roads. Sections *22 and 23, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. In order to discontinue any public highway the Commissioners must give three months' public notice in the settlement through which the road to be discontinued passes ; Provided, That no objection is made, they can thereafter discontinue the road so advertised. But if there is objection, then the road remains a public highway until discontinued by law. Section 12, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. By the Act approved December 24, 1879, each township of the several counties of the State is made a highway district. For each of these districts the County Commissioners annually appoint one Superintendent to serve one year from date of his appointment. The person appointed Superintendent must be liable to road duty and a resident of the district for which he is appointed. The Superintendent has general supervision of the roads and highways in his district under the direction of the Commissioners. The Commissioners have power to remove Superintendents. Act December 24th, 1879. Roads leading from any part of the State directly to Charleston, Georgetown, Columbia, Camden, Hamburg, and Cheraw are to be made and cleared thirty feet wide by Commissioners. All other public roads are to be kept twenty feet wide. Section 5, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. Public roads in each highway district shall be posted and numbered, and at each fork of said roads a pointer must be placed, declaring the direction of each road. Section 6, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. By Act of March 13th, 1872, page 215, any failure upon the part of Commissioners to post, number and place pointers, is directed, is regarded a misdemeanor, and upon conviction they are subject to a fine not exceeding 8500, aud imprisonment not ex-, seeding six months, either or both, at the discretion of the Judge before whom they are tried. In the counties comprising James' Island, John's Island, Wadamalaw, Edisto, St. Helena, Lady's Island and Hilton Head, the Commissioners have power to permit persons over whose lands public roads run to erect gates thereon. Such permission expires at tl*o ovniratlnn nf n?n vaoi-a if tint rDnflWPrl Section 13, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. If corporate authorities of towns, villages and cities neglect or refuse to keep in repair the highways and streets in their respective towns, &c., the County Commissioners have power to order out persons liable to road duty in 3aid town, &c.t to repair the same. Section 17, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. The County Commissioners of Charleston County have power to appoint five District Superintendents of Roads, whose duty it shall be to take charge ot all roads and not exercise jurisdiction over bridges not exceeding fifteen feet in length in their respective districts. District Superintendents appoint overseers, who assist them in repairing the roads. Bridges exceeding one' hundred dollars in value are to be let out by contract as provided by law ; when they do not exceed that amouut they are let out by the District Superintendent, in whose bounds the bridge is located, at private contract. It is the duty of! Commissioners to exercise general supervision j over the roads in said county. Act December 24, 1878, Page 772. BRIDGES. Bridges are to be built and repaired under the supervision of the County Commissioners. If the work to be done on old or new bridges exceeds one hundred dollars then it is to be performed by contract, with the lowest responsible bidder; when it does not exceed that amount the Commissioners hawe power j to let out the work at private contract. When the work exceeds one hundred dollars the Commissioners shall give fifteen days' notice in the county paper and in writing duly posted in the neighborhood in which such work is to be performed, giving notice that the Commissioner of the section in which such work is to be performed will be at such a place, on such a day and hour, with suitable specifications, to let out such work to the lowest, bidder, and to take from the successful bidder sufficient bond for the faithful performance of his duty. When the work is done it shall be inspected by the Commissioner letting it out, whose duty it should be to report the result of his investigation to the full Board, who shall accept or reject the same, according ,as they may determine, whether or not the constructor has or has not complied with the terms of his contract. If any bridge over waters in this State, I which constitute a boundary line .between ; counties, shall he necessary to he erected or | repaired, it shall be the duty of County Commissioners of such counties to cause the same to be erected or repaired, in the manner aforesaid, each county bearing an equal share of the expenses so incurred. And when any such bridge already exists, or shall be here after built, it shall be the duty of said Commissioners to divide the same, by measurements from the centre, and each Board shall j be responsible for the good condition of the half next adjoining the county in which they , exercise the function of office. And when it . becomes necessary to build a new bridge, or to entirely replace an old one which has been carried away or destroyed, it shall be the duty of the Boards of the counties, to do the same as aforesaid. Act amendatory to Chap | ter 45, Revised Statutes; Section 12, Volume j 15 General Statutes, Page 784. Volume 15, General Statutes, Page 215. March 15th, 1872. If any person receive injury from any defect in causeway, highway or bridge, they | have right of action against the county in i which such iniurv occurs. The Commission ers in such cases are required to tender an amount sufficient to cover the injury sustained. If the person injured refuses to receive the amount so offered and does not recover a larger amount than that tendered by the Commissioners, then he shall pay the costs of the Defendant. Act March 13th, 1874, Sections 6 and 7, Pace 78", Volume 12, General Statutes. Any neglect by Commissioners to re'pair bridges and highways, <fec., is regarded as a misdemeanor, and upon conviction thereof, they are liable to a fine of not less than 8100 nor more than 8500, in the discretion of the Judge before whom they are tried. Act 19th March, 1874, Section 7, Volume 15, Page 785 of the General Statutes. DUTIES, POWERS AND PRIVILEGES OF SUPERINTENDENTS OF HIGHWAY DISTRICTS. The Superintendent has general supervision, under the direction of County Commissioners, of roads and highways in the district for which he was appointed. The Superintendents, by reason of their office, are exempt from road duty. He must report, every three months, in writing, to the County Commissioners the condition of roads and bridges in his district. The superintendent shall divide the roads in his district into convenient sections, of not less than two nor more than five miles. For each of said sections it is his duty to appoint an overseer and to each overseer he assigns a company of hands. As far as practicable the hands are to be assigned by Superintendents to the road nearest the residence of the hand. Whenever the Superintendent deems it necessarv to have roads worked or repairs done on bridges, which hands can do, he may order the overseer to call out his hands on twelve hours' notice, requiring each hand to bring with him a hoe, axe or other tool. The Superintendent determines the tool each hand shall work with and the number of days at each working; Provided, That no hand can be worked more than twelve days iu one year. Roads along the line of highway districts are to be divided into sections and worked by such hauds of either district as the Superintendents of such adjoining districts may direct. Tthe Superintendent must cause his overseer to look after and repair all bridges in their several districts that can be convenient ly repaired by road hands. If bridges cannot be conveniently repaired by road hands, then the Superintendent must report the same to the Commissioners, to be let out by them according to law. If the Superintendent neglects to work roads in bis district when ordered by Commissioners, he shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and, on conviction before a Trial Justice, he shall be. fined not less ten or more than fifty dollars. DUTIES AND POWERS OF OVERSEERS OF HIGHWAY SECTIONS. Overseers are appointed by the Superin tendent for each section, and they have control of the working of the section, for which . I ? I A -A. 1 07H mey are appoinieu. nei 10/o. It is the duty of the overseer to have persons liable to road duty warned out to work said roads, whenever ordered by the Superintendent. Act 1879. If the overseer of the section for which he is appointed neglects to work the road in his section, when ordered by the Superintendent having charge of such sections, he shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and be subject to a fine of not less than five or more than twenty dollars. Act December 24, 1879. He shall have all obstructions removed from the sections, and may call out a sufficient number of road hands to aid him in this. Any neglect to remove obstructions is regarded as ^ misdemeanor, and subjects the overseer, in neglecting his duty, to a fine of fifteen dollars. Volume 15, Statutes, ?age 785, Section 5 of the Act approved March 19, 1874. In warning men to work the public roads he shall make out a list for the warner, requiring him to give a notice to each person liable to road duty, the kind of a tool he shall use in working upon the roads. Volume 18, Statutes, Page 785, Section 10, Act March 19, 1874. Overseers have full power to cut down and. make use of any timber, wood, earth or stones in or near the roads, bridges or causeway, for the purpose of repairing the saiwe, when necessary. They shall not, however, cut rail timber, shade trees, &c., or take stones from cultivated fields without the consent of the owners. If pay is dapanded for such timber, &c., he shall pay for the same. Volume 15, Statutes, Page 785, Section 10,*Act March 19, 1874. They shall allow a man working one ^ay n n/) Aivniakmr* ltnvon rvlivm a ? /in ft t inA rloiffl' aiiu luiiiisiiiug a iiwicC| |;iun ui uai t-, n?u uajo labor, and one working for himself one day and furnishing a wagon and two horses, mules or oxen, three days' labor. Volume 15, Statutes, Page 68-2, Section 7, Act March 19, 1874. DUTIES OF WARNERS. The warner receives his appointment from the overseer. He is required to gjve every person liable to road duty twelve hours' notice of the day and hour and the place where he is required to meet to begin tin# work. Act December 24th, 1879. For such services the warner is exempt five days from road duty. Volume 15, Statutes, Page 956, Act March 24, 1875, Section 2. PERSONS LIABLE TO ROAD DUTY. All able bodird male persons, between sixteen and fifty years are liable to road duty, except ministers of the gospel, trustees and teachers of schools and colleges, members of board of assessors. 15th Statute, Page 956, Act of March 24th, 1875, Section 2; Act 1877-8, Puge 582, Section 43, School Act; Act December 14, 1878, Section 4, Assessors' Act; Act 1878, Page 736 ; Act amendatory to the Act of March 19, 1874, which amends Chapter 45 of revised Statutes. In Edgefield and Chester counties the persons liable.to road duty are those between the ages of sixteen and sixty five. Act 1878, P.irTQfi Qhi/^onfo iii Dna Wflof Pnlloop# and Theological Seminary are exempt from road duty. Act March 12th, 1877-8, Page 484. Persons duly warned are subject to the direction of the overseer in charge. Failure to work according to direction of said overseer 8'ihjects said person so failing, to 6ne or imprisonment, of not less than five or more than ten dollars, or not less than five nor more than twenty days, before a Trial Justice. 17th Statute, Page 784, Section 4, Act of March 19th, 1874. Any road hand, after being duly summoned, who shall neglect to assist in removing obstructions from public roads, shall pay three dollars per day for every day the overseer is engaged in removing the obstruction for which the person was summoned to assist in removing. 15th Statute, Page 784, Section 5, Act of 19th of March, 1874. Persons liable to road duty may by relieved I of such work by paying to the County Treas| urer one dollar per day for every day he is required to work on the public roads. 15th Statute, Page 784, Section 9, Act of 19th of March, 18V4. The amount so paid is to be i applied by County Commissioners to the re-1 pair of the roads in the district in which such person resides. 15th Statute, page 684, Section 9, Act of March 19th, 1874. Any one having performed road duty, who shall remove from one county to another, ' he may be relieved by producing a certi6cate I from the overseer of'the highway district in which he performed said labor, showing the number of days he has worked durinj; the year, or the amount of money paid to the Treasurer. This shall be a discharge for the amount specified in the certificate. The residence of any person who has a family shall be held to be where his family resides, and the residence of any other person shall be where he boards in any county of this State. 15th Statutes, Page 787, Section 11, Act of March 19th, 1874. CITIZENS MAY ERECT GATES. It may be lawful for any citizen of this State, over whose land any road may pass, other than a public highway, to erect gates thereon, and any person owniug or erecting such gates shall be liable to be indicted for a nuisance if they fail to keep them in good order. In case any person shall interfere with, injure, destroy or wilfully leave open any such gates, such person shall be liable to an indictment as for misdemeanor. Sections 8 and 9, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. The Commissioners, by Act of February 14th, 1878, have power to permit the erection of gates upon application of any citizen wherever they think it proper. Page 361, Act of 1877-8. Inhabitants of this State may cut ditches, &c.. across public highways. Any inhabitant of this State shall have power, for the purpose of draining his or her lands, to cut a ditch or ditches, canal or canals, across any public highway in this State; Provided, such person shall be bound to bridge such canal or ditch under the direction of the County Commissioners, and keep the same in good repair for one year, after which time the County Commissioners shall take charge of such ditches or canals and keep them in repair. Section 10, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. PENALTIES FOR INJURING AND OBSTRUCTING HIGHWAYS, AC. Persons wilfully injuring any highway or any part thereof shall upon conviction, be imprisoned not more than three months nor less than one month, and pay a fine not exceeding five hundred dollars nor less than twenty dollars, at the discretion of the Judge before whom convicted. He shall also bear the expense of repairing the same. Any one obstructing the highway and refusing to remove the obstruction when requested so to do, shall be deemed guilty of a nuisance, and upon conviction, shall be fined not more than ten nor less than two dollars, and shall pay the expenses of removing said nuisance. Sections 15 and 16, Chapter 44, of the Revised Statutes. * Employers of laborers are required, when, requested, to give overseers a list of the persons in his employ liable to road duty. Any refusal to comply with such request of the overseer is a misdemeanor, and the person so offending, upon conviction before a Trial Justice, shall pay a fine of ten dollars or be imprisoned ten days. Act of March 18th, 1878, Page 516. DUTIES OF SOLICITORS. On information of any two persous that any highway has been diverted from its orig *.1 ?1 *i - / iL. 1 iL _ mai course, wiinoui auinoruy or me raw, me Solicitor shall commence suit against such person or persons who have altered the highways, in order to compel the parties to restore at their own expense the high road in 'its original course. Section 11, Chapter 44, Revised Statutes. * POOR MEN'S* WIVES. The trtfuble is, none of our young woman are willing to become poor men's wives, professedly, even though they may be so in reality. The girl who marries upon $1,000 a year looks forward to a life spent in secondrate boarding houses, from which she will squeeze out a certain cheap domesticity and some expensive pleasures. The children which Heaven may send are not thought of nor provided for. It is a question whether the young wife can make herself a dress, or prepare herself a wholesome meal of victuals. She marries for freedom, to have a good time, to spend money which she neither earns, nor helps to earn?for Heaven knows what?but certainly not to make a comfortable, if humble, home for her husband. In this respect we consider the British girl has an immense advantage over the American. From the highest to the lowest circles of society in Britain, girls are trained to make good and useful wives, inasmuch as ladies preside over the departments of their household and see that everything is kept clean, and the food is well cooked ; so also in the lower classes mothers teach their daughters to do the same for themselves, without suffering any loss of dignifv in the dnincr of it. Manv of OUT Ameri can girls will besurp.ised to learn that the Princess Louise frequently makes her pastry? and makes it well, too. On one occasion, some apricot tarts of her making being praised by a guest, the royal lady wrote out the recipe, with the words underlined, "If you desire to have an apricot tart properly cooked, always make it with an upper crust!" The story has a point, and the point is that one can never know how to do a thing too well. One of the great hindrances against getting a good wife arises from the false basis upon which society is constructed. The idea that equality is the peculiar birthright of all Americans is erroueous. Where every person thinks he or she is as good as the next, there is always the opposite proof of incompetency. A person is neither better nor worse thau another except in the degree of worth which is honestly sought to be attained. But the dispositions of young Women of the present day (and the same may be said largely of young men, though perhaps not to the same extent) is to think they are as good as any one else, without taking the trouble to be so. From this erroneous belief arises many of the evils frcm which society suffers.?Kingston Freeman. "I Can't."?Never say, "I cau't." When we consider the energy and ability palsied by it; and how many fail in life by "fearing to attempt," we wish to feel with Napoleon, that the words "impossible," and "I can't," were obliterated from our language. Tamerlane was taught better in his despair, and the pertinacity of a spider nerved the warrior Bruce ( to a final struggle and a glorious triumph. If what is desired be worth the toil necessary , to win it, examine the ground deliberately, and let nothing short of absolute lack of means, or incompetence of power, deter you from winning. Many a man, passing for a , genius, artist, and even a mau of letters, has % worked his way to proficiency by slow steps, and through years of ceaseless toil and care. There is little that man has done, that is impossible to do again, and again, forever. As "necessity is the mother of invention," so perseverance and faith conquer every obstacle. Because the road is rough and toilsome, and the labor harsh and vexingpis it manly | to falter when the prize is all the brighter | and the goal the more glorious therefor? The crown of triumph is reserved for those who strive, and however accident may seem to elevate this or the other man, there is a "royal road" to fortune or fame. These are seldom, if ever, won by the "I cant's." On the lips oF the young, no words are so miserable as these. I They betray a puny, coward spir it. Alexander sternly rebuked the lieutenant who uttered them in his presence; and. to give his rebuke force, spurred forth and accomplished what his subaltern deemed impossible. Men of this will and decision, conquer # in whatever they attempt. Seek not to do much, but measure your means and faculties, ' * * - - -1 ;li. .? i accept tne Dravest 1011 possiuie, ;?uu win. Never say "I can't." "I'll try," arc f.he words that have made more than one name immortal. Tiie Age of Man.?But few men die of age. Almost all die of disappointment, passion, mental and bodily toil, or accident The common expression, "choked with passion," has little exaggeration in it; even though not suddenly fatal, strong passion shortens life. Strong bodied men often di young; weak men live longer than the strong; for they use their strength, and the weak have none to use. The latter take care of themselves, the former do not As it is with the body, so it is with the mind and temper. The strong are apt to break, or, like the candle, run; the weak burn out. The inferior animals which live, in general, temperate lives, have generally their prescribed terms of years. The horse lives 25 years, the ox 15 or 20, the lion about 20, the dog about 10 or 12, the rabbit 8, the Guinea pig from 6 to 7. These numbers all bear a similar proportion to the time the animal takes to grow to its full size, but man of all the animals, is one that seldom comes up to this average. He ought to live a hundred years according to this physological law ; for five times twenty are one hundred?but instead of that, be scarcely reaches, on an average, four times his growing period ; the cat six times, and the rabbit even, eight times the standard of measurement The reason is obvious ; man is not only the most irregular, and the most intemperate, but the most laboHous and hard worked of all animals. He is also the most irritable of all animals; and there is reason to believe, though we cannot tell what an animal secretly feels, that more than any other animal, man cherishes wrath, to keep it warm?and consumes himself with the fire of his own secret reflections. Indestructibility of Matter.?We can alter the combination and form of matter, hut no rnnnnt in ?nv wrv daatrntf it! and though we may avail ourselves of its properties, in order to obtain an enormous force to do our bidding, and so make ourselves independent of wind and tide, and even anticipate the flight of time, we can create no new property. "One of the most obvious cases," says Sir J. Herscbell, "of apparent destruction is, when anything is ground to dust and scattered to the winds. But it is one thing to grind a fabric to powder, and another to annihilate its materials; scattered as they may lie, they raurt fall somewhere, and continue, if only as ingredients of the soil, to perform their humble but useful part in the economy of nature. The destruction produced by fire is more striking. In many cases, as in the burning of a piece of charcoal or a taper, there is no smoke?nothing visibly dissipated and carried away; the burning body wastes and disappears, while nothing seems to be produced but warmth and light, which we are not in the habit of considering as substances ; and when all has disappeared, except, perhaps some trifling ashes, we naturally enough suppose it is gone, lost, destroyed. But when the question is examined more exactly, we detect, in the invisible stream of heated air which ascends from the glowing coal or flaming wax, the whole ponderable matter, only united in . a new combination with the air, and dissolved in it. Yet, so far from being thereby destroyed, it is only lecome again what it was before it existed in the form of charcoal or wax?an active agent in the business of the world, and a main support of vegetable and animal life."?Dickens. Description of Jesus.?The following epistle, was taken by Napoleon from the pub lie records of Rome, when he deprived that city of so many valuable manuscripts. It was written at the time and on the spot where Jesus commenced! his Ministry, by Publiua Lentullus, the Governor of Judea, to the Senate of Rome, Csesar being Emperor. It was the custom in those days for the Governor to write home any event of importance which transpired while iie held office: Conscript Fathers: There appeared in these, our days, a man named Jesus Christ, who is yet living among us, and of the Gentile is accepted a.3 a prophet of great truth ; but his own disciples call him the son oif God. He hath raised the dead, cured all manner of. diseases. He is a man of stature somewhat tall and comely, with a very ruddy countenance, such as one may both love and fear. His hair iu of the color of a iSlbert, when fully ripe ; plain to his ears, whence downward, it is morerorient of color, curling and waving about his shoulders. In the middle of his head is a seam or partition of long hair, after the manner of the Nazarites. His forehead is plain and delicate ; his face without spot or wrinkle, beauti&ed with a comely red ; his nose and mouth are exactly formed ; his beard is* the color of his hair, and thick, not of any great height, but forked. In reproving he is terrible, in admonishing, courteous; in speaking he is very modest and wise; in proportion of body, well-shaped. Va?a UntfA OAAti lv?rv? IdMcvk Kllf monv Vl 0 VTA XI Ull^ iia Yt OCCU 1U1IU mugiij uuv UIWUJ mwiv seen him weep. A man, for his surpassing beauty, excelling the children of men. No Washington.?-A young friend of ours tells the following story of himself: When young he had read the well-known story of George Washington's love of truth, and the father's love of the noble principle of his son, so well manifested on the occasion referred to, of George's cutting down the cherry tree, acknowedging his transaction, and receiving a full and free pardon, besides praises and kind caresses from his father. So Jim, actuated by so noble an example, thought he would try the hatchet, and going to his father's orchard, cut down some choice fruit trees. He then coolly sat down to await the old man's coming, and as soon as<fce made his appearance, marched up to him with an important air and acknowledged the deed, expecting the next thing on the programme to be tears, benediction and embraces from the offended parent. But sad to relate, instead of this, the old gentleman caught up a hickory and gave him an "allfired lamming." Jim was no Washington. One-half of the one hundred boys picked from the New York grammar schools, to whom medals were given at the raising of the obelisk, were of German extraction, and onethird were of Jewish birth. One-third of the prize takers in the New York normal school are also Jews, and yet neither in the normal Bcbool nor the grammar school are the Jewish children over one-fiftieth of the whole. ' ^ ^^ - - t/St:; The parasites which affect canaries may be get rid of by merely placing a clean white cloth over the cage at night. In the morning it will be covered with very minute red spots, almost invisible without a microscope. These are the vermin so annoying and so fatal to the birds.