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J lewis grist, proprietor, j Jitbeprnlititl Jfsmilp Betospper: Jfor fjte ^romotian of f|t |jo!ifical, Social, ^gricnltnral ani Commercial Interests of % Sonf^. TERMS--$2.50 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 27. YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 18, 1881. 33. ?ltc .ftcmr teller. | ______ * THE PILOT'S STORY. We had grown up together as it were, Molly and I, our parents being near neigh-1 bors, and?which does not always follow? ! firm friends as well. They were poor, and I suspect that fact had much to do with their friendship, for opportunities were always turning up for helping one another, and I have often noticed that when near neighbors are well off, and have no need of mutual help, there is seldom any friendship between them. There is more apt to be jealousy and com petition. Our parents being such good friends, it i naturally resulted that Molly and I followed their example. We went to school together, read together, played together, and somehow, when Molly was eighteen and I twenty, we agreed to travel together all our lives, and were happy in that arrangement; in fact no other would have seemed right or natural, either to us or our parents. From the earliest days of my boyhood, I had evinced a fondness for the water, haunting the palatial steamboats that floated the great Mississippi River, on whose banks nestled the city in which we dwelt, and, at the period to which I am about to refer, I had just secured a position as pilot on a small freight steamer. It was not much of a position, to be sure, nor was there much of a salary attached to it, but small as it was, Molly and I decided that we could make it answer for two people, neither of them extravagant or unreasonable ; besides which, I had hopes of better times to come, as I had received words of commendation from my employers and promises of speedy promotion. So, early one bright morning, having obtained a day's leave of absence, Molly and I were married, aud stepping into a carriage I had hired for the occasion, we started off, having decided on a day's excursion to a celebrated cave near by, this being all the wedding trip we could allow ourselves; not that we cared iu the least, however?we were too happy to be disturbed by any shortcomings of time or purse. We had scarcely driven beyond our own street, however, when we were brought to a halt. "Here is a note to you from the superintendent." Thus it ran: "Am sorry to have to recall your leave to day, but you must immediately go on board the Mobilia, which is ready to start up the river. The pilot is too ill to attend to duty, and you are appointed to take his place for the present." "There goes our wedding-trip all to smash," , said I, as I read the order to Molly. "Why so ?" she asked. "You see, I must go to the pilot-house of i the Mobilia." I "Very well," she replied, "we will just go up the river instead of to the cave. Drive i on, Bob; let us go down to the wharf in state." j "But you can't go into the pilot-house with < me, little goose." "Of course not; but I can sit on the deck i outside," laughed Molly, "and we can look at ] each other." < And so it came about that I took possession of the Mobilia's pilot-house, my heart glowing with love and pride?with love, for there, just below me, on the little forward deck, sat my sweet bride; with pride, because the Mobilia was one of the finest of the "floating palaces" of the Mississippi, and to pilot such a one had for years been the height of my ambition. The steamer was fitted up with a double cabin, one above the other, the upper one opening upon a small deck reaching out toward the bow, near the centre of which, on a raised platform, was placed the pilot house. This deck was always occupied by passengers, and this morning it was particularly crowded, for the boat was heavily laden with people taking advantage of the beautiful weather to make an excursion up the river. Suddenly a cry broke forth from the cabin behiud me. "Fire! Fire! Fire !" A horrible cry at all times, but most horrible of all when it rings forth in the midst of gay, unsuspicious hundreds, floating in fancied security in the midst of the waters. ^ An instant's awe-struck silence succeeded that awful cry, and then three hundred voices 8 of men, women and children united in fearful, heartrending shrieks for help. Fire! fire! fire! ? Aye, there was no mistake about it; no ? false alarm. No one could tell how it had 1 commenced, but there it was, creeping along * ' " ? M .L. J 31 I the roor 01 tne upper caom, wuu me aeauiy flames greedily lapping up every awning and 1 curtain they could find upon their way, ever < and anon darting long tongues of flame down I to the floor, to clasp in the light chairs, and i tables and settees in their fiery embrace. The people darted down from the blazing i t upper cabin to the forward deck below, where 1 as yet the foe had made but little headway, j 1 and there our brave captain?who was that 1 -, rara avis, the right man in the right place? succeeded in partially quelling the panic. ' "Keep quiet!" he ordered?"keep quiet 1 and stay just where you are, or I will not an- 1 swer for the lives of any of you. The steward will provide every one of you with life j i preservers ; but there is no reason for any 1 person to go overboard yet awhile, at any rate, i I unless suicide is desired. Keep quiet, I say ! < Screaming won't frighten the fire away. Pi- 1 lot, head her straight for the island half a j mile ahead." (We were at least twice that, distance from the mainland on either shore.) j Then he shouted to the engineer: "Put on j all steam?crowd her on. We will run a race with the foul fieud that has boarded the Mobilia." There was an instant's pause, and then with a groan and a surge, with the timbers creak- j ing and straining, and the windows rattling ; as though in mortal terror, the Mobilia gathered herself up to run her last race. Each passing moment the flames crept on and on, never pausing in their terrible march. ; Fortunately, they leaped upward rather than downward, so that there was as yet but little danger to the panic-stricken crowd on the lower deck. But the pilot-house was directly iu the track of the flames, and already their advance-guard was beginning to surrouud me, i singeing my hair and eyebrows. Suddenly there was a murmur among the . people below, and the next instant a light form flew up the ladder leading to the deck by the pilot-house, and before I could utter a ( word, mv nrecious Mollv had thrown open < - ?, ?J L w the door, and closing it again, stood by rny side. "Molly, Molly," I cried, "for Heaven's sake, go back, go back ! Don't you see how the flames are creeping toward us here ? Go on, niy dearest, my own true wife. Don't unman me by making me fear for you. Go down where I can feel that you have a chance ' for safety." "Rob Thorpe," she exclaimed, with her eyes looking bravely, right into mine, "am I your wife?" , "Surely, surely, thank God," I uttered. "But go, go." "My post is here, just as much as yours is," she answered, firmly. "I will stay here, Rob, and if you die, I will die, too. We will make our wedding trip together, my husband, even if it be into the next world. .Keep to your duty and don't mind me, Rob. There is hope for us yet, and if it ccmes to the worst, why? and a brave, sweet smile crept around her lips?we are still together, dear love." I saw it \ as no use to urge her any more, and besides something swelled in my throat so that I could not utter a word, so I just gripped tlie wheel hard and looked right ahead, though everything looked very dim just then, and my devoted darling stood calmly at my side, watching the flames that were creeping closer upon us, leaping around the pilot house like hungry demons impatient for their prey. "Thorpe!" shouted the captain ; "come ) down. Lower her and yourself over the rail, j We'll catch you. You cannot stay there any j longer. We are very near the shore now, and the rest we'll take our chances for." It was an awful temptation. I knew that did I follow the captain's advice, both Molly and I would be safe, for I was a good swimmer, and should the boat not reach the shore, I could save her and myself; but then, if I did this, would I not deliberately expose every one of the three hundred souls on board to destruction ? True, the boat might keep her course during the short space remaining to be passed, merely from the rapid impetus of her approach ; but again she might not? and then ? I looked at my wife inquiringly. "Stick to your post, Rob," she said. "No, sir," I.shouted back ; "I shall stick to my post. I shall stay here until I run her on the shore, or die first." "My brave Rob?my noble Rob," murmur*, ed Molly. Al, last, just as the glowing tongues of flame began to reach in through the window, a crash and a shiver passed from stem to 6tern of the noble steamer, and with a sharp quiver and a shake, her bow ran high upon the shelving beach, and in less time than it takes to tell it, every man, woman and child sprang from the heated decks and were saved. But alas for my devoted Molly ! alas for me! Not the pilot house only, but the entire /^or>lr omnnH if urge nnw anrrnnnrlpH hvflameS. It was too late to lower ourselves to the deck below. The railing was all ablaze. My arms, released from their guardianship over the whe?el, clasped Molly close to my heart; but my eyes and brain were busy seeking for some mode of escape from the death that seemed each instant more certain. All at once my gaze rested on the paddle box. It had not taken fire yet; the flying spray had saved it. I had only to dash across the flame-swept deck and fling open a door in its side, which afforded ready access to the wheels, to lower my precious charge to the water beneath in safety. No sooner thought of than done. "Take my baud, Molly," I Baid, "and run , with me. We shall be saved, after all. Wrap your shawl over your mouth. Now, now? run !" Leaping down on the deck, we sped, hand in hand, to the paddle box. I dashed open the little dcor, and pushing Molly inside, ' passed in myself and drew the door close again, thus shutting out the eager flames, whose angry roar pursued us, as we dropped gently down into the shallow water and crept out from behind the wheel. Our appearance was hailed with a shout of delight and relief, for all h&d given us up as , lost, and we must have been but for the heav~ J it. r?U ? P ill A llfk AAI k AIIOO 5U-ILI5pU CU ILIUUgUt Ul tilC nucui uuuou I Now that the danger was over, poor little Molly fainted; and no wonder. But she , soon came out; all right, and as the people oegan to find out that the brave little girl, as ; :hey called her, was really a bride of only a ; few hours, and that we were on our wedding j, ;rip, there was a regular ovation, followed ( jp by nine deafening cheers. ( The island upon which the Mobilia had ( ieen beached was low, sandy and uninhabit- j id, altogether not an inviting place for three , lundred people, without a particle of shelter, , ,o pass half a day upon ; yet, even in this slight, there were few grumblers in our midst. There was no room in our hearts for any { 'eeling but that of thankfulness for our pre- ! ;ervation from a fearful death, and after the leril of the last hour or two, it seemed a small natter to wait patiently for the coming of he relief boats that we knew were sure to ' trrive before many hours were past. Though some miles from any large city, ve knew that the burning steamer must have ' )een seen from the farm-houses scattered parsely along the river bank, and that 1 rom these, notices of the disaster would be 1 ' | ;ent to the nearest town. And so it was. Before nightfall several small steamboats , irrived, and after that but a few hours ? (lapsed before we found ourselves safely at | lorae, and our adventurous wedding trip at < in end. , But its results were not ended by any ( neans. The terrible nervous strain I endured, < jombined with severe burns on my face and lands, threw me prostrate on a bed of sick- , less. j When I was able to report for duty again, I , wo weeks later, I learned that a noble gift t rora the Mobilia's grateful passengers?no | j ess a sum than two thousand dollars?lay in ! ( ;he hank awaiting my order. j ( Not only this, but the steamboat company I lad voted me a gold medal and the appoiut- J j ment of pilot of the finest steamer on that , line. j Years have gone by since my brave wife , ind I had so nearly journeyed out of the 1 world on our wedding trip. From pilot I tiave come to be captain and part owner of ] me of those beautiful floating palaces that j used so to excite my envy ; but never do l! naea vvithnilf a sir'Irpnincr shlldder. the little ' rww? " *"o ? j island where the Mobilia ended her last race. , aiijjhmnmmhu A Kiss that Didn't Pay.?The Toledo 1 Record. get9 off a good one in regard to a i citizen of Iowa, whose wife, in his absence, | had been kissed by a drover, while giving a glass of water. When he heard of the out- j rage, he started at ouce in pursuit, found the < lover after a hard day's ride, and accused him of the theft. The drover admitted the truth of the soft impeachment?said he had been a long time from home, was sorely tempted, and in an unguarded moment of frenzy purloined the kiss, but that he had not damaged the woman in the smallest particular?was very sorry?thought it was no matter to make a I great ado about, and therefore begged to be excused. The husbaud finally concluded that this was the right view of the matter, and agreed \ to settle it upon the receipt of $5 for his day's ride. This being satisfactory, the drover handed over a $10 bill and received S5 in change. But when the aggrieved benedict returned lorae and consulted his detector, he found the bill a counterfeit. He found he had suffered the indignity of having his wife kissed by a nasty drover, passed one day in the saddle and lost five dollars, and concluded that it didn't pay. An Unreasonable Proposal.?An Irish servant, who was in the employment of an 1 English gentbman residing in Ireland, was on one occasion, about going to a fair, held annually at a neighboring village, when his master endeavored to dissuade him from going. "Ydti always," said he, "come home with a broken head ; now stay at home, Darby, and I'll give you five shillings." "I'm for ever and all obliged to your honor," said Darby ; "but does it stand to raison," added he, flourishing his shillilah over his head, "does it stand to raison that I'd take five shillings for the grate big bating I'm to get to day ?" ffliscdlanMusi Reading. THE WAY THE MONEY GOES. A Chapter on the Petty Stealing in Wrash? Jngton. [Froip the New Vork Sun.] Siuce the removal of Pitney, the treasury custodian, little has been heard of "contingent funds." It is not alone in the treasury that the eye of scrutiny should be turned, as kindred abuses are found in the other departments. Contingent funds are, perhaps, a necessary evil, but they certainly afford opportunity for wasteful extravagance or petty stealing on the pprt of small officials. I have been looking over the returns from several departments, and the result's are both curious and instructive. It can be safely said that each department has a special favorite who, in his particular line, monopolizes the entire trade subject to tbe will of the purchasing agent. These traders are all Washington men. I have been informed by more than one reputable merchant, not in the ring, that it is akin to impossible to secure departmental custom unless a resort is had to ways that are devious, and a liberal tickling of the band that buys. That this makes ap expensive system for the Government can be shown by a single instance. A dealer in this city sold inkstands with walnut framework at $12 a piece to a department buyer, while retailing the same kind in his store at $3.75. This affords ample margin for a division with those who can both add and be silent. But the most prominent feature is the reckless prodigality with which these contingent fund dispensers get away with the Government money. It extends to things both great and small, from the thousands wasted in costly furniture to the petty swindle of imaginary street car rides at the expense of the people. Think of the war department spending $661 last year for street car tickets ; with a Government wagon and carriage always on hand and an open account for carriages at the livery stable only across the way. Then, too, Chief Clerk Crosby made two trips to Baltimore at the expense of the Government, fare $1.20 each way, or $4.80 in all, and makes a charge in the contingent fund of $28. Again, the attorney-general, forgetful of the fate of Landaulet Williams, keeps a splendid carriage bought with the people's money, and pays his driver a salary, as an employee of the department of justice, of $840 a year. One would think this quite enough, but the courtly Devens always made his driver a Christmas present of an overcoat, and then charged $25 to the contingent fund for his liberality. This overcoat business pervades all tVip rlonnrtmentn pupii thfi StAfft dfinart - ? v-*~ -~r? ? - ? ? ? -? ?i meat; and the war office, not satisfied with a present to the carriage driver, also included the driver of the mail wagon?men getting good salaries, and presumably able to buy their own clothes. In the office of the quartermaster-general, another of these petty abuses exists in compelling the people to pay for the periodical literature of the army satraps. Last year the contingent fund was drawn on for 8220 for magazines alone, and for a much larger Bum for daily newspapers. It is a source of wonder what theBe officers do with Washington city directories. The war department spent 8245 for them ; the surgeon-general's office, confined to one small building, requires twelve directories, at a price of 860, for office use. Large sums for cleaning and scrubbing are also expended, although the departments are fairly running over with strapping big colored laborers, drawing 860 a month. Another item returned in the war office is 8317 for "fireplace furnishings" in a building heated by steam, thousands being spent to make it as perfect as human ingenuity can make it. These are only little fellows in the line of expenditure, it is true, but they are specimens of the whole. Now look at some of the larrror itome qiieti As fflpnpts flirnitlire. fllfl Lu.gw ? ( 1 J Lionerv, and the like. To begin with, take the war department. This office had a total contingent fund last year of over ?63,000 divided among the various bureaus. The Brst thing that catches the eye is the striking jniformity with which the expenditures are made to balance the appropriations, no surplus remaining except in a single instance, ind thut only ?150. The stationery for the cffice was purchased from a single firm, and reached the enormous sum of ?16,876 40; the carpets and matting for the year, through mother favored individual, cost ?3,923 82; spittoons aud dusters, from another 6rm, with but little variance, reach tbesum of?l,261 91 ; soap and spongeB, ?478 30; matches ?189 13 ; window shades and towels, ?594 57 ; ice pitchers ?292 65, and furniture runs up to 53,643 85. Bear in mind that these expenditures were made for buildings already completely furnished, and were mere incidentals to repair wear and tear. There is a belief that at the innual house-clearing many of these articles find their way to the homes of the chief officials, whence a short memory prevents their I 3ver being returned. A singular thing is the large* suras spent for reparing the mail wagon, which last year | lost 8736 06, while the harness repairs cost j 8183 13. It seems hardly within the limits of probability, but an item is introduced in : the surgeon-general's account of repairs to a wagon at one time of 8225, so there could j have been little left of the old wagon but the horse. At another time the war departmentI paid 8182 for wagon repairs. Aside from all I this, harness was purchased during the year j costing 8421 70. These items are not isolated cases, but the annual product of the planting of the contingent fund. Besides the fuud allowed the war department proper, there is also set apart for "the j military establishment," 838,647. As to stationery, moderation was used, the cost being 1 only 8127 05 But whew ! what a number of; army promotions and appointments must have been made, judging by the number of officers' j commissions, in blank, purchased from a single favored stationer. These commissions , cost less than a dollar apiece, and still there was spent in this way $1,376 25. And here provision was made for the defence of the negro cadet, NVhitaker. The charge of Mar-! tin I. Townsend, ot Troy, his lawyer, was 1 8764 15. An element figuring for some time in this contingent fund has been hitched to the "codification of the army regulations." Congress made provision for this several years ago, and it was iutended that some of the army officers loafing around here doing nothing should do this work. It was done, however j by a civilian, an ex Confederate, named Rob- j erts. The next question was how to pay him ? The all useful contingent fund was the re- I source, as Congress had made no allowance ! for this peculiar work. It began with Rob-1 erts getting 8150 a month. Then came an | assistant at a small salary. The thing grows, j Roberts was allowed $200 a month, with two j assistants at 8150 a month each, one at 885 . a mouth, and another at $75, making thisj work which was not anticipated would cost I the Government anything, aggregate 8660 a j month, or nearly 88,000 a year, all covered ; up in the contingent fuud. Everybody has heard of Greene's report on ! the Russian-Turkish war. Greene was a young officer sent over there at the expense of the Government to take a lesson in actual warfare. Like his predecessors he wrote a report, and a good one ; but unlike them his book did not appear as a public document. It was issued by the Appletons. Well, now, see how the contingent fund figured in the transaction. First ^here coines an item as follows: "Preparing maps and plates for report on Turkish and Russian campaigns in 1877 and 1878, 81,900." This was paid to Julius Bien. And to in* demnify the publishers against loss there appears : "Six hundred copies of Greene's Russian campaign, and binding the same, 81,278.30." And this was paid to D. Appleton & Co. What the military establishment wanted with six hundred copies of the book is not stated. The book business did not stop here. Maj. H. L. Abbott, of the engineers, also printed a "Report on Siege Artillery in Campaigns against Richmond," and as he was presumably stuck, the purchase was made directly from hiin of one hundred copies, at a cost of 8210. # ?. Another small item of reckless extrava* gaoce was the projected purchase of the Boylston House, Charleston, S. C. Of course, the i title had to be examined, and a lawyer named L. J. Barbot, did the work, and was paid $100. Two weeks thereafter another examination was ordered, and L. C. Northrop, the United States district attorney, and a former member of the Chamberlain party, got the opportunity, and as profit thereon pocketed $250. Any i lawyer would have done the work willingly for $50. _ , Traveling expenses also came out of this < fund. McCrary, when secretary of war, went ! to Boston at a cost to the Government of $93.- ] 95. He went to Fort Leavenworth at a cost j of $141.55. When Ramsey came in he ran ] over to New York and charged up $54.31. i Within a month he went to West Point at a < cost of $34.70. The traveling expenses of j Crosby, the chief clerk, for the year amounted | to $187.80. Here, too, repairs to the mail i wagon for the year cost $289.50, while for i soap, blacking and dusters $152.50 were spent. If we cross over to the department of jus j tice, the same state of affairs is found. The i stationery for this office, with its few em- i ployees, cost $1,501.10; furniture $712 98; t while for repairs alone there was charged j $614. The carriage was repaired to the j amount of $137 and the harness and repairs i $160. Car tickets here cost $139.50. A pret- j ty instance of extravagance is in the serving of the Evening Star of this city. Of course i it appears after the closing of the depart- ] ments, and could just as easily be served from f the office at the regular rates of forty-four t cents a month; but no, the job, must be given | to a stationer at a cost of seventy five cents, f The State department does likewise. This ? office pays $300 a year for washing towels, i Ice costs $629.39; gas with the office closed ( at 4 o'clock, $1,822. Stationery issued to ( the amount of $4,115.38. Car tickets $125. t The inevitable Christmas overcoat for the i driver, at Government expense, $20. The ] carriage repairs cost $183.1(3, and the harness f repairs $137.90 j Secretary Evarts also came in with bills g for his traveling expenses. First, his trip to New York cost $96, and the second?where a i? efa+AsI knf if moQ fk/i nnnofantlu ro. curring "puhlic business" 8174.99. s Such is the general drift of all contingent ^ fund expenditures. How a corrective is to s be applied is not yet known. j THE NEW SOUTH. f The era of political quiet and industrial 1 prosperity that has dawned brightly upon the c Southern States is one of the most encoura- y ging signs of these bright times. Twenty 1 years ago the South was in the beginning of J a destructive war, which it might easily have * averted. Ten years ago it was still prostrate c from the disastrous results of that deadly con- B diet. To day the signs are unmistakable that * it has entered upon a high road of material B progress, which has only to be followed to v lead to a measure of prosperity and happiness ' that would have seemed Utopjan in the days E of slavery. * 1 The new census returns show that in the F past ten years there has been in the Southern c States a social and economic awakening which a promises to be general and lasting. The * marked increase of population that has taken * place, has been attended with a most eucour- * aging improvement in the condition of the c people. New towns have sprung up and old a ones have grown in strength and prosperity. F Schools, libraries and newspapers have multi- n plied and illiteracy has diminished. Facto- * ries have increased in capacity and number, ? railroads have been huilt iD every direction, and seaports and other commercial centres a have become busier than ever before. Du- n ring the past three or four years Western v grain has been seeking foreign markets by v way of Mississippi river in such rapidly in- t: creasing quantities as to cause no little alarm a in certain Northern quarters. The tide of e Southern prosperity that has already set in ti must find a new tributary when the comple- v tion of the railroad and telegraph systems v now in progress or contemplation shall open t! Mexico to American Enterprise. r With this promising advance in the com- h mercial and industrial welfare of the South is v now seen a chunge in its political condition that is hardly less encouraging. As long as n partisan dominated all other interests, poll- v tics was the banc of the South. This was o conspicuously the case in the years iraraedi- o ately following the war. To-day economical e are made greater than partisan considerations, h Political quiet has taken the place of politi- fi cal turmoil, and industrial activity has follow- ii ed industrial stagnation. Men are coming d into public life who were boys when the rebellion raged, and were unborn when the herce I political battles preceding it were fought n They are not anxious to fight out the party v feuds of their fathers. They have no desire ^ to be eternally warring over the dead issues of s the past. They have had enough State rights s controversy, enough war, enough reconstruc- c tion, and enough of the "bloody shirt" busi- p ness. They see more money, more success, I and more prosperity in trade and industry r than in politics. The younger members who n come to Washington are more interested in 1 the industrial and commercial welfare of their c country, and the social and educational advancement of the people, than in partisan strife, which can only defeat these good ends, h Such, at least, is the plain tendency, if not t yet the realization, of Southern political life. 1 In the general progress that the South c has made since the war, the growth cf the c cotton industry appears as the most striking, p promising and significant. The greatest v cotton crop known in the days of slavery was s that of 1859-60, which footed up more than t four million eight hundred and twenty thous- f and bales, and exceeded any preceding crop ? by a hundred thousand bales. But since the 1 war the yearly production has steadily and t rapidly increased, until the crop of last year t reached the unprecedented figure of 5,757,- 8 397 bales, each of which was twenty pounds 1 heavier than the bales of the greatest ante- I war crop. The aggregate yield of this great t staple during the fifteen years following the i war were larger by ten million bales and ( more valuable by near seven hundred million 1 dollars than during the fifteen years preced- ? iug the war. The crop of the present year t will be largest yet raised, and is expected to t amount to more than six million bales. There 1 are yet no signs of any arrest of this onward 1 movement, and there is every indication that 1 the future will bring forth crops that now 1 would seem marvelous. i But more significant than this extraordina- c ry progress in the culture of cotton is the ad- i vance made by the South in its manufactures. ? Since 1870 the capacity of Southern mills has increased from eleven thousand to more than fifteen thousand looms, and from 400,000 to 700,000 spindles. Within the same period the consumption of cotton has more than doubled. It was forty-five million pounds in 1870, and in 1880 it had increased to more than one hundred million. The census returns show that during the past decade the South has made more rapid strides in cotton manufactures than either the country at large or New England, the great centre of the industry in America. The progress that it has made, and promises to make, suggests the important inquiry whether the South has not at last set nut unnn that course which in time must lead to the achievement of one of the possibilities that nature has put within its reach. That the American cotton crop should be sent raw to English mills and returned manufactured to cis atlantic markets is as ab normal and unnatural as that water should run up hill. The supremacy which England now holds in the manufacture of cotton must sooner or later?so far at least, as American cotton is concerned?be transferred to this country, where it properly belongs. The time may be distant, but its coming is inevitable. The consumption of cotton by American mills is steadily and rapidly increasing, and will continue to increase until the entire crop is manufactured in the United States. While t^e supremacy may first pass from old England to New England, it is a question whether it will not shift to the Southern States. To this ascendency New England has no particular right or claim. The South has natural advantages which New England has not. Its climate is favorable to the manufacture of cotton, and it has an abundaue of water power and fuel. Machinery and skilled labor must be forthcoming when the advantages that undoubtedly exist are seen and appreciated. In addition to these considerations the great coming development of the West and Southwest will be attended with a growing demand for manufactured cotton, while the anticipated establishment of commercial intercourse between the United States and Mexico will open a new and extensive 5eld for the sale oi cotton goods. In these *reat markets, as vAl as those of Central and south America, itsigeographical position will give to the South decided advantages. We are aware that so high an authority in ;his matter as Mr. Edward Atkinson, who, lowever, is a New England man and identiled with the cotton interests of that part of be country, maintains that the South cannot jecome a great centre of the cotton manufacturing industry. But we have not seen iny reason put forth in support of this opinon which cannot be satisfactorily met, or any >bstacles pointed out which cannot be over:ome in time. Of course it will take time to mild up cotton manufactories in the South, is it has in England and New England. But the South has rare natural advantages or the development of this industry, which if jroperly turned to account, cannot fail of jreat results.?Nno York Herald. * THE IRREPRESSIBLE NEGRO. It is not true that the colored people of south Carolina have failed to prosper under he condition of things that has existed in this State since the war, and to establish the ruth of this assertion, I need only mention a ew cases of extraordinary thrift among the legroes that have come under my personal ibservation in this section. Elijah Hampton, vho lives near Cokesbury, is doing well. At he time of the surrender he was nt his post vith his old mistress, a widow, working the arm, as be had always done, for the support if the family. He was then at a matured ige, with wife and children to support. He irst hired himself for wages and a few years ifterwards worked for a part of the crop with vbite men, and by industry and close attenion to businesss he saved a few dollars. He text bought a house and plantation to be aid for in two years, which payments were romptly met. He is now out of debt, and iwns two plantations, which are well stocked nd in good cultivation. He also owns in he City of Greenville one house and lot. le is a hard worker and never would give a ien on his crop. When he makes store acounts be pays them off promptly. During 11 the political excitement here be took no art in it. He said the white people would aake laws good enough for him, and his rork in the corn and cotton field would pay iim better than going to the ballot-box. Anderson Williams, who is a blacksmith nd planter, has also fared well. His former aaster was a mechanic and farmer, and was ery precise in all his ways. Everything r&a kept in its proper place, and he lost no ime by loafing aud idleness. Now, Anderon is trying to fill exactly all his former ownr's ways. He owns a good house and plan ation, and everything about his plantation rears a look of prosperity. When the G reenrood Township voted to levy a tax to build he Greenwood and Augusta Railroad, he ode eight miles and voted for taxation. He as an enterprising spirit, does not meddle rith politics, and has no use for th^ lien law. Samuel Jefferson is one of the old landlarks in this section. At the close of the rar he had a large family and nothing to go n. He secured a home with a white planter | f the neighborhood and went to work in j arnest. After remaining here six years he ! ad accumulated enough money to buy a! arm of his own, which he has finished pay- j ag for, and is now comparatively indepen- ; lent of the world. These three negroes are all full-blooded j Africans, but among the copper-colored, or j Qixed breeds, there are a number of men , rho have prospered abundantly. Beverly! /ance and Mitchell Goggins are notable intances of what men with little education but j trong muscle and industrious habits can ac- J omplish. They have both taken part in ! olitics?Goggins being a member of the legislature for two terras during Radical ule ; but they are now making money in the oore honorable competitions of industrial ife.? Cokesbury Correspondence of the News \ md Courier. Yorktown.?The scene of the surrender | ias long been a much neglected spot. York-! own is not reached by railway, and is off the ! ine of progress. Some day it may revive its | ild time prosperity ; at least it ought to be-; orae more accessible as a point of future [ jilgriraage. Before the revolution the town ras quite an emporium, the only port from vhich the Virginia planters shipped their | obacco to England. Baltimore and Nor- j IrJlr orrnHiiRllv reduced it bv competition. ! & J - J 1 5ome two centuries or more ago we first leard of ft as one of the outposts or forts in he colony. In 1725 it was the centre of a hriving County?au Episcopal parish of ixty communicants, with a church. Wiliamsburg, the capital, with its House of 3urgesses and growing college, attracting hither the wisdom and fashion of the Dorain- j on, was scarce a dozen miles away. Until j Joruwallis stationed himself there, Yorktown j tad escaped the ravages of war on the Vir- j jinia coast, and after its surrender it still con-1 ained about seventy houses, not more than ! wo or three having been wholly destroyed, fifteen years later it had not extended its imits, and we find its population, more than talf of which was composed of negroes, nura>ering about 800 souls. The last war, it ieed hardly be said, left it in a depressed conlition, almost beyond recovery, and to day t contains not more than 300 inhabitants, imong whom are to be found but few de/ scendants of the ancient proprietors. In fact, it seems to be the lot of Yorktown that the more it becomes a historical spot, the less it becomes anything else.?Harper's Magazine. WHAT THEY PUT IN FLAVORS. "There is mighty little genuine fruit extract in the syrups and flavors of commerce," the chemist of a manufacturing house said, pushing aside glass jars, strainers aud retorts, so as to make a clear space for some of his books of formulas. "Natural flavors are both weak and costly. For instance, if you sugar down pineapples or strawberries, you get a delightful natural syrup, but your white sugar alone will cost you eighty-eight cents a galIon, and the fruit is expensive, as you know. The flavor is iust at its proper strength and will not go a great ways in flavoring additions to the syrup ; and so only a small portion of the fruit syrups and essences of commerce have any fruit about them. Smell this." He unstopped a vial of thin,; transparent liquid. It diffused a strong pineapple odor of irritating pungency. "That," he said, "is butyric acid. Mixed with alcohol, it is the pineapple oil of commerce, and it enters iuto nearly every flavor manufactured and into most perfumes. It is extracted from rancid fat. The tallow oil, which.is the basis of artificial butter, will furnish it. Another prominent ingredient of artificial flavors is amyle, which you will know better by the name of fuse! jil. Some one of its compounds go into the manufacture of the flavors of pineapple, strawberry, raspberry, apricot, pear, orange and apple. Compounds of methyl, an extract of coal tar, are also much used. Succinic acid, obtained from amber; sebacic acid, extracted from fat; and benzoic acid, originally extracted from a vegetable resin, but now made from nathaline, a coal oil product, are also much used in vari! ous shapes. Formic acid, another ingredient, was originally obtained from ants, and hence its name is derived from the Latin word for ant, formica. But it is now manufactured artificially. Chloroform goes iuto some flavors, notably grape essence, and oxalic acid goes into the bloom of gooseberry, apricot, lemon and apple. Tartaric acid is also largely used. | Most of these substances are used in the form j of ethers, and their strength of odor is due to their exceeding volatility." I "Are not such compounds injurious ?" ( "Not when used simply for flavoring pur- ] poses," was the answer. "The reason why < -i i _ T. a. __A i a - tney may oe usea 10 imitate natural uavurs with such success, is doubtless due to the fact , that the flavors of the natural fruits are due j to their presence. Butyric acid is naturally < present in the pineapple, tartaric acid in wine, i citric acid in lemons, and oxalic acid in j gooseberries. While artificial flavors or essences would be poisonous, taken in large { quantities, it does not follow that their use as g flavors, is injurious any more than that al- ( monds should not be eaten because their concentrated extract is poisonous. As a matter of fact, soda water flavors and candy flavors are almost invariably artificial, and the bouquet and flavor of many a bottle of wine is due to the various amylic or fusel oil eth- ' era." ' < "I remember," he continued, "seeing some . time ago an anecdote about a French wine seller, who said to his son: "Always remem- ] ber, ray son, that wine may be made out of anything, even grape juice." I have thought . the same thing often when I have drank the. { sweet cider of commerce. Of course there is ( a sweet cider that is made from apple juice, ' and it may be kept from getting hard by the i addition of bisulphite of lime. But there are immense quantities of sweet cider sold that 1 are perfectly innocent of apple juice, and , there are plenty of receipts for making it. j People that know what good apple cider is are not likely to drink much of the manufactured cider, and if they did it would not hurt them, although I could not like to drink cider made i from this receipt. The chemist showed the reporter a trade . receipt for cider, which called for honey, catechu, (an astringent resin), alum, yeast, bitter almonds, cloves, burnt sugar and alcohol. The receipt adds : "If too sweet, add sulphuric acid to suit the taste." "Sulphuric acid," he said, "is not a health- . ful article of diet; but, as I said before, a . thing may be perfectly innocent in a diluted shape and in a very small quantity that g would be hurtful in a concentrated form. . ion'f if fV*of rlolinofn flftworfl flnrl npr. VUU( 1CU U 11/1 tliUb \lbuvuir^ uviiviw wmv* fumes should come from the refuse of the abbattoir and the coal of a distillery ? But a great many pleasant things have humble origins. THE MORMON WAR. Several months ago, by authority of the War and Interior departments, a gentleman of Boston went on a secret mission among the ftformons and endeavored to learn the truth or falsity of reports that they are arranging for an uprising against the government. Although he has not yet made an official reporof his conclusions and observations, he bat indicated something of his important discovers E ies. In a private letter to a friend he says that the time is not far distant when an army of 100,000 men will be none too small for a campaign that will spread from Utah to Wy* c oming and Montana on the north, and to Ari- v zona and New Mexico on the south. At the c bottom of these troubles lie the Mormons. v The infamous sect is the most thoroughly dis- c, loyal element in the Union. All their ac- * lions since they settled by the Great Salt Lake 1 have been governed by comprehensive and deep laid schemes some day to establish ^ a grand empire of their own, independent of the national Union. This scheme they are now 1 now carrying out with accuracy and compre- 1 hensiveness worthy of anything that ever distinguished Jesuitism. They have not con- * centrated themselves in one region, but have spread out over the widest possible territory. Therefore, an invading army would have to * distribute itself over a very wide extent of ground. All the region over which they s have spread they have covered with a mesh- t like warp of ranches and farms and are fill- 1 ing up with the woof of their rapidly raulti- 1 ' ? - i 1 __ : v piying Drooa wmcn increases at au maceuv orous rate. Polygamy is part of the scheme, ' and the best instrument they could devise c speedily to secure a dense population to cover tne land with their own progeny. Mormon 3 women, far from finding it burdensome, as has frequently been asserted, really glory in it. Wives vie with each other to see which c will bear the most children. Through the { fertile valleys of New Mexico and Ari- t zona, along the available water courses and i around good springs, these Mormons are i spreading themselves, and the government is \ giving them weapons with which to strike it ( back. 1 The agents say they have made themselves \ independent of the outside world for the ne- 1 cessities of life. They have factories, and in i case of war against the Union they could 1 not be starved out; surrounded by their f battlements of sky piercing mountain ranges ' they would make a hard fight against the 1 invaders struggling for their false faith with \ the fanaticism of a Mahommedan. A Mor- \ mon war would be a general Indian war as < well. They are untiring in their efforts to i poison the minds of the Indians against the \ national government and undermine their r faith in its supremacy. They artfully secure i Indian favor by never losing an opportunity t to show them consideration and place them ( under obligations. While it is true that the ( average American frontier settler unwisely, t and even stupidly treats every Indian with contempt and unaffected dislike, no Indian tribe is too insignificant for them to seek its favor. Their favorite method is to seek to breed a contempt for governmental authority, and a distrust of all its movements. They adapt their proceedings to the conditions of each tribe.' YORKTOWN PROGRAMME. The programme below has been arranged for the 18th, 19th and 20th of October, or what are known as the United States govern- , ment days, at the Yorktown Centennial. The exercises on these days will be under the control and direction of the Yorktown Congressional Commission, of which Senator Johnston is chairman. Congress, it will be remembered, gave this commission $20,000 in addition to the $100,000 for the monument. It also gave Secretary Blaine a like amount to entertain the French visitors. The Commission will have their headquarters on the steamer George Leary, which has been chartered for the purpose. Mr. Blaine will have his headquarters, it is understood, on a war vessel, 1 s- > J 1 wmcn is to ue oecoruieu iu a luauuei ucuiuug the occasion. Before the 18tb, and after the. 20th. the Yorktown Association, of which Col. Peyton is the chief manager, will carry out their programme of exercises already noticed in these columns. The following are the details of programme on government days: October 18th?Medley overture of national airs by the Marine Band, of Washington; meeting called to order at 12 o'clock (shar^ by Senator Johnston; prayer; "The Star* Spangled Banner," by the Centennial Chorus (as the last line of the air is being sung the United States flag will be hoisted, and the batteries on shore will fire a salute, which will be taken up by the ships in the harbor); introductory address by Senator Johnston ; "Marseillaise Hymn," by the chorus; address by Governor Holiday; "Hail Columbia," by the chorus; laying of the corner-stone of the monument by the Masons, during which appropriate music will be rendered by the chorus ; "Yankee Doodle," by the Marine Band. At night there will be a grand display of fireworks from barges, anchored in the stream, in position to afford a view to every spectator. October 18.?The exercises on this day will be as follows : Music by the Marine Band at a. little before 11 o'clock A. M.; prayer, followed by the singing of the hymn entitled "The Prayer," by the chorus; address by President Garfield ; "Centennial Ode" by the shorus; oration by the Hon. Mr. Wintbrop ; music by the Marine Band; reading of an iriginal poem by James Barron Hope, Esq.; _ -i. ? v - x? i AL- r> :j A music; at nig/ii, recepuou oy me rresiueub ind bis Cabinet. October 20~Military day. There will be i grand parade of all the troops, and a review 3y the President and other distinguished officials. GUITEAU. Guiteau has confided to District Attorney Oorkhill a petition to the Court to be admitted to bail. It is a curious document. He expresses great sorrow that the President has ruffered so much and so long from the wound ie inflicted. He did not intend to cause him pain, but to remove him from the world in- . licantly, and he seems to ask a favorable con- * sideration from the Judge of the Supreme uourt of the District of Columbia, because he Feels as much sympathy as any one for the iuffering President. He asks his release because he fear9 that confinement will make rim insane. He repels with scorn the idea Jbat he is now insane, or that he was insane when he conceived or committed the crime. Be insists strongly that he is now sane, but ie says that he feel%"the nimbus of insanity playing around his brain." He then goes on ;o recite some facts to indicate that there is nsanity in his father's family. He says that lis father himself was a religious monomaniac, ind that two relatives on bis father's side lave been, and are perhaps still,, confined in in asylum for the insane. He repeatB again ind again that he fears that the unaccustom:d confinement will result in driving him nad, and he urges his release on that ground f no other, although he thinks that, under he circumstances, the President's recovery jeing now regarded as certain, justice denands that be should be admitted to bail. 3e offers a bond of $1,500, although he says hat his own recognizance would be as good, IO tin monto t/\ ko trios? ons? wnillH nrPBP.nt liras^lf in court on the day appointed as cerainly as the day will come, which he suggests shall be February 1, 1882. He announces that he proposes to make bis >wn defense, with competent legal assistance. !t may mentioned, in this connection, that jruiteau is very desirous that first-class legal aleut should assist him. He says that he rants none of the riff-raff of the bar, and be ias more than once suggested that Emory itorrs shall be his lawyer. Guiteau wants his eraporary release, not only that he may escape spending insanity, but that he may take a rip to Europe, where he wishes to remain a oonth or two. A Bad Liar.?Among the inmates of the ounty Insane Asylum of New York, is a man rho is often perfectly sensible, and when acosted at such times causes visitors to wonder vhy he is confined. This inmate entered into onversation recently with a caller, whose Iress proclaimed him a clergyman. Said the nadman: "It was too bad, was it not, the killing of Tones, at Chicago?" "It was," said the minister, who followed he adopted custom of assenting to the stateneots of lunatics for peace sake. "Brown was assassinated at Cincinnati, was le not ?" again asked the lunatic. "Yes," replied the clergyman. "And was not Queen Victoria murdered in ler palace ?" To this query from the madman the clericd visitor once more answered in the affirmaive. The lunatic, with "damnable iteration," jamed, one after the other, a dozen living oyal personages, all of whom the clergyman vas led to admit bad been put out or tne way. finishing bis catechism, the madman turned >n the clergyman and said fiercely : "Your dress shows you are a minister, but 'ou are the worst liar I ever met." Unconscious Influence.?The very banning of the nursery is significant, and the )etulance, the passion, the gentleness, the ranquility indicated by it, are ali reproduced n the child. fc'Iis soul is a purely receptive lature, and that for a considerable period, vithout choice of selection. A little further >n he begins voluntarily to copy every thing je sees. Voice, manner, gait?every thing vhich the eyes see?th . mimic instinct deights to act over. And thus we have a vhole generation of future men receiving rom us their future beginnings, and the deepist impulses of their life and immortality. They watch us every moment?in the family, Defore the hearth, and at the table ; and vhen we are meaning them no good or evil, vhen we are conscious of exerting no influ;nce over them, they are drawing from us mpressions and moulds of habit, which, if vrong, no heavenly discipline can wholly renove ; or, if right, no kind of association Jtterly dissipate. Now it may be doubted, I bink, whether, in all the active influences of, >ur lives, we do as much to shape the destiny >f our fellow-men as we do in this single arIcle of unconscious influence over children. A\