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? _ / lewis m. grist, proprietor. i an Inbepenbent Jfamiln fjtetospper: jjdi tjje promotion of t|t |)a[rftcal, Social, Agricultural aub Commercial Interests of tjje j>ont|. |terms?$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 27. YOEKYILLE, S. C? THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1881. NO. 37. ihc JSfomi ?cliff. THE KNIFE AND TOMAHAWK. BY A WESTERN MAN. About thirty miles below the present city of Pittsburg, stood an ancient fort, known as Fort Mcintosh. It was built by a revolutionary general of that name in the summer of 1778. It was one of the line of forts, which was intended to guard the people who lived south of the Ohio river, from the incursions of the savages to the northward. This fort was one of the favorite resorts of the great Indian spy and hunter, Captain Samuel Brady. Although his usual headquarters was Pittsburg, then consisting of a rude * * . - o l r tort ana a score or iwo 01 rougn lruuwer tenements. Brady had emigrated westward, or rather had marched thither in 1778, as a lieutenant in the eighth Pennsylvania Regiment, under the command of General Richard Broadhead, of Easton. When, in the spring of 1779, Mcintosh retired from command in the West, Broadhead succeeded him, and remained at Pittsburg until 1781. Shortly after his advent to the west, Brady was brevetted Captain. Brady had served at the siege of Boston, fought at Long Island and White Plains, gone through the whole of the terrible campaign of Trenton and Princeton, suffered at Valley Forge, distinguished himself at Germantown and Brandywine, and narrowly escaped death at Paoli. But his tastes led him to the erratic mode of warfare known upon the frontier. Indeed his early education upon the upper Susquehanna had inculcated and developed those tastes from the very earliest hoyhood. Hating an Indian with that instinctive hatred, which is begotten in the bosom the white race, by long years of coutest and outrage, a bitter intensity was imparted to the feeling in his case by the murder of his father and a younger brother by the Indians, under trying and terrible circumstances. Having premised this much by way of in- i troduction, it brings us to the opening of our | story. On the 21st day of August, 1779,i Brady set out from Fort Mcintosh, for Pittsburg. He had with him two of his trusty and well-tried followers. These were not attached to the regular army, as he was, but werescouts and spies, who had been with him on many an expedition. They were Thomas - __j r>?! t>: D i? Bevingion ana Denjamiu .DJggs. jjisuj icsolved to follow the northern bank of the Ohio. Biggs objected to this, upon the ground, as Brady well knew, that the woods were swarming with savages. Brady, however, had resolved to travel by the old Iudian path, and having made up his mind uo consideration could deter him from carrying out his determination. Bevington had such implicit faith in his ability to lead that he never thought of questioning his will. Quite a discussion arose between Biggs and his captain at the mouth of Beaver river, about a mile above the fort, and where they must cross the Ohio, if they continued on the northern side. Biggs finally yielded his objections, and they crossed Beaver and proceeded with the habitual caution of woodsmen who fully understood their business. They had started early, and by rapid traveling they had reached, ere noou came, the * * * 1 xl - il _! 1 last piece oi Dottom iaiiu on me norm siue of the river, just below what is known as the Narrows. Upon this bottom a pioneer, more daring than most others, had built a cabin, and opened a small spot of'cleared land. He had planted it in corn, and it gave promise of a most abundant harvest. But as they approached the edge of the clearing, just outside of the fence, Brady discovered "Indian signs," as he called them. His companions discovered them almost as quick as he, and at once, in low tones, communicated to each other the necessity of a keen watch. They slowly trailed them along the side of the fence toward the house, whose ' situation they well knew, until tbey stood on the brow of the bluff bank which overlooked it. A sight of the most terrible description met their eyes. The cabin lay in a mass of smouldering ruins; from hence dull blue smoke rose in the clear August sunshine. They observed closely everything about it. Brady knew it was customary for the Indians after they had fired a settler's cabin, if there was no immediate danger, to retire to the woods close at hand, and watch for the approach of any member of the family who might chance to be absent when they made the descent. Not knowing but that they were even then lying close by, he left Bevington to watch the ruins, lying under cover, whilst he proceeded to the northward and Biggs southward, to make discoveries. Both were to return to Bevington, if they found uo Indians. If they came across the perpetrators, and they were too numerous to be attacked , regularly, Brady declared it his purpose to have one fire at them and that should be the j signal for both of his followers to make the best of their way to the fort. All this rapidly transpired, and with Bra- i dy to decide, was to act. As he stole cau-1 tiously round to the northern side of the in- j closure, he heard a voice in the distance singing. He listened keenly, and soon discov-1 ered from its lutonations, that it was a white j man's. He passed rapidly in the direction whence the sound came. As it approached, he hid himself behind the trunk of a large tree. Presently a white man, riding a fine horse, came slowly down the path. The form was that of Aibert Gray, the stalwart, brave, devil-may-care settler, who had built him a home miles away from the fort, where no one would dare to take a family, except himself. Brady wore, as he almost always did, the Indian garb, and had war paint upon his face. He knew that if he showed himself upon the path, Gray would shoot, taking him to be an Indian. He therefore suffered Gray quietly to approach his lurking place. When the time came, he sprang forward ere the settler could have time to prepare, drew his tomahawk, and seizing him, dragged him from his horse. As he did so, he whispered to him : "I am Captain Brady, for God's sake be quiet." Gray, with the instinctive feeling of one I who knew there was danger, and with that vivid presence of mind which characterizes those acquainted with frontier life, ceased at once to struggle. The horse had been started by the sudden onslaught, and sprung to one side. Ere he had time to leap forward, Brady had caught him by the bridle, f His loud snorting threatened to arouse any rma u?li? woe noor Th#? fountain soon soothed the frightened animal into quiet. Gray now hurriedly asked Brady what the danger was. The strong, vigorous spy, turned away his face UDable to answer him. The settler's already excited fears were thus turned into realities. The manly form shook like an aspen leaf, with emotion?tears fell as large drops of water over his bronzed face. Brady permitted the indulgence for a moment, whilst he led the horse into a thicket close at hand and tied him. When he returned Gray had sunk to the earth and great tremulous convulsions writhed over him. Brady quietly touched him upon the shoulder and said, "Come." He at once arose, and had gone but a few yards until every trace of i emotion had apparently vanished. He was [ no longer the bereaved husband and father? he was the sturdy, well-trained hunter, whose I ear and eye were acutely alive to every sight or sound, the waving of a leaf or the cracki ling of the smallest twig. He desired to proceed directly toward the ! house, but Brady objected to this, and they 1 passed down toward the river bank. As ; they proceeded, they saw from the tracks of horses and moccasin prints upon the places | where the earth was moist, that the party was quite a numerous one. After thorough| ly examining ever cover and possible place I of concealment, they passed on to the southward and came back in that direction to the i spot where Beviugton stood sentry. When ! they reached him they found that Biggs had ' not returned. In a few minutes he came. I He reported that the trail was large and broad ; the Indians had taken no pains to j couceal their tracks?they simply had struck back into the country, so as to avoid coming in contact with the spies whom they supposed to be lingering along the river. The whole four now went down to the cabI in aud carefully examined the ruins. After i a long and minute search, Brady declared in an authoritative manner, that none of the inmates had been consumed. This announcement at once dispelled the most harrowing fears of Gray. As soon as all that could be discovered hacl been ascertained, each one of the party proposed eome course of action. One desired to go to Pittsburg and obtain assistance?another thought it best to return to Mcintosh and get some volunteers thereBrady listened patiently to both these propositions, but anne quickly, after talking a moment apart wit Biggs, and said, "Come." Gray and Be 'ington obeyed at once, nor did Biggs object. Brady struck the trail and began pursuit in that tremendous rapid manner for which he was so famous. It was ; evident that if the savages were overtaken, ! it could only be done by the utmost exertion. | They were some hours ahead, and from the number of their horses must be nearly all j mounted. Brady felt that if they were not overtaken that night, pursuit would be utterly futile. It was evident that this band had been south of the Ohio and plundered the homes of other settlers. They had pounced upon the family of Gray upon their return. When the pursuit began, it must have been two o'clock. At least two hours had been consumed by the spies in making the necessary exploration about the house, ere tutrjr appjuauucu it, auu cauiuiucu wg iuiuo. Not a word was spoken upon the route by any one. Their leader kept steadily in advance. Occasionally he would diverge from the track, but only to take it up again a mile or so in advance. The Captain's intimate knowledge of the topography of the country, enabled him to anticipate what points they would make. Thus he gained rapidly upon them by proceeding more nearly in a straight line toward the point at which they aimed to cross Beaver River. At last, convinced from the general direction in which the trail led, that he could divine, with absolute certainty, the spot where they would ford that stream, he abaudoned it and struck boldly across the country. The accuracy of his judgment was vindicated by the fact, that from an elevated crest of along j line of hills, he saw the Indians, with their ' victims, just disappearing up a ravine 011 the i opposite side of the Beaver. He counted them as they slowly filed away under the rays of the declining sun. There were thirteen warriors, eight of whom were mounted?another woman, besides Gray's wife, was in the cavalcade, and two children besides his?in all, fivechildren. The odds seemed fearful to Biggs and Bevington ; although Brady made no comments. The moment they had passed out of sight, Brady again pushed forward .with unflagging energy, nor did his followers hesitate. There was not a man among them whose muscles were not tense and rigid as a whip-cord, from exercise and training, from hardship und exposure. Gray's whole form seemed to dilate into twice its natural size at the sight of his wife and children. Terrible was the vengeance he swore. Just as the sun set, the spies forded the stream and begun to ascend the ravine. It was evident that the Indians intended to camp for the night sor e distance up a small creek , or run, which d bouches into Beaver River, j about three mile from the location of Fort Mcintosh, and two below the ravine. The ! spot, owing to the peninsular form of the j tongue of land lying west of the Beaver, at! which they expected to encamp, was full ten miles from that fort. Here there was a fa-; mous spring, so deftly and cunningly situated j in a deep dell, aod so densely inclosed with thick mountain pines, that there was little j danger of discovery ! Even they might light, a fire and it could not be seen one hundred | yards. The proceedings of their leader, which j would have been totally inexplicable to all i others, were partially, if not fully understood, i by his followers. At least they did not hesi- j tate or question him. When dark came, Brady pushed forward with as much apparent certainty as he had done during the day. So rapid was his progress, that the Indians had but just kindled their fire and cooked their meal, wheu their mortal foe, whose; presence they dreaded as much as that of the I small-pox, stood upon a huge rock looking j down upon them. His party had been left a short distance in the rear, at a convenient snot, whilst he went forward to reconnoitre. There they remained i impatiently for three mortal hours. They discussed, in low tones, the extreme disparity | of the force?the propriety of going to get j assistance. But all agreed that if Brady ordered them to attack success was certain. However impatient they were, he returned at last. He described to them how the women and childreu lay within the centre of a crescent formed by the savages as they slept. Their guns were stacked upon the right, and most of their tomahawks. The arms were not more than fifteen feet from them. He had crawled within fifty feet of them, when the snortings of the horses, occasioned by the approach of a wild beast, had aroused a number of the i savages from their light slumbers, and he had i been compelled to lie quiet for more than an j hour, until they slept again. He then told them that he would attack j them. It was impossible to use firearms. 1 They must depend solely upon the knife and tomahawk. The knife must be placed in the j left hand and the. tomahawk in the right. To Biggs he assigned the duty of securing their arms. He was to begin the work of slaughter | upon the right, Gray upon the left, and Bevington in the centre. After each fairly understood the duty assigned him, the slow, difficult, hazardous approach began. They continued upon their feet until they had gotten within one hundred i yards of the foe, and then lay down upon : their bellies and began the work of writhing themselves forward like a serpent approach* i ing a victim. They at last reached the very verge of the line, each man was at his post, J save Biggs, who had the farthest to go. Just i as he passed Brady's position, a twig cracked roughly under the weight of his body, and a huge savage, who lay within the reach of Gray's tomahawk, slowly sat up as if startled into tliis posture by the sound. After rolling his eyes, he again lay clown and all was still. Full fifteen minutes passed ere Biggs mov; ed ; then he slowly went on. When he reached his place, a very low, hissing sound indicated that he was ready, Brady in turn reiterated the sound as a signal to Gray I and Bevington to begin. This they did in | the most deliberate manner. No nervous| ness was permissible then. They slowly felt ! for the heart of each savage they were to j stab, and then plunged the knife. The tomaj hawk was not to be used unless the knife proved j inefficient. Not a eound broke the stillness of the night as they cautiously felt and stabbed, unless it might be that one who was feeling would hear the stroke of the other's knife and the groan of the victim whom the other had slain. Thus the work proceeded. Six of the savages were slain. One of them had not been killed outright by the stab of Gray. He sprang to his feet, but as he arose to shout his war cry, the tomahawk finished what the knife had begun. He staggered and fell heavily forward, over one who had uot yet been reached. He in turn started up, Rrnrtir vena fnn nnielr hia knife reached his heart and the tomahawk his brain almost at the same iustant. All were slain by the three spies, except i one. He started to flee, but a rifle shot by j Biggs rang merrily out upon the night air and closed his career. The women and children, alarmed by the contest, fled wildly to the wood ; but when all had grown still and thev were called, they returned, recognizing amid their fright the tones of their.own peo! pie. The whole party took up their march for Mcintosh at once. About sunrise next morning the sentries of the fort were surprised to see the cavalcade of horses, men, women and children, approaching the fort. When they recognized Brady, they at once admitted him and the whole party. In the relation of the circumstances afterward, Bevington claimed to have killed three. Thus Brady, who claimed nothing, must have slain at least six, whilst the other two slew as many. The thirteenth, Biggs shot. From that hour to this, the spring is called the "Bloody Springs!" and the small run is called "Brady's Run." Few, even of the most curious of the people living in the neighborhood, know aught of the circumstances which conferred these names which will be preserved by tradition forever. Thus ended one of the very many hand to hand fights which the great spy had with the savages. His history is fuller of daring incident, sanguinary, close, hard contest, perilous exploration and adventurous escapes, than that of either of the Hetzels, of Boone or Kenton. He saw more service than any of them, and his name was known as a byeword of terror among the Indian tribes, from the Suequehanna to Lake Michigan. IgisttUauMtis |iefltUmj. HOW TO MAKE A PAPER BALLOON. For large balloons, strong manilla paper is best; for smaller ones, use tissue paper.] When you build a balloon, decide first what height you want it, then make the side pieceB or gores nearly a third longer : a, balloon of 13 gores, each six feet long and orte foot greatest width, makes a balloon a little over j four feet high. For such a balloon, first make ! a pattern of stiff'brown paper by which to cut the gores. To make the pattern, take a strip of paper six feet long and a little over one foot wide ; fold the paper in the center lengthwise, so that it will be only a little over a half foot from the edges of the fold. Along the bottom, at right angles from the folded edge, measure three inches and one half, and i mark the point ; in the same manner, mark off five inches from two feet up the fold. From a point three feet four inches from the bottom, measure off six inches, and mark the point ; from this place the width decreases, j * A . c?.1. a... 1. _ _ :..i x:.._ :_..i ! Al ine iourm mot, iuura 11 puiuL live nieiiea and one-half from the fold ; about three inches and a third at the fifth foot, or top, where the gore will come to a point. With chalk or pencil draw a curved line connecting these points, then cut the paper along this line and unfold it. You will have a pattern the shape of a cigar, four inches wide at the bottom, one I foot greatest width, and six feet long. After pasting your sheets of manilla or tissue paper together in strips of the required length, cut, by the pattern just made, 13 gores ; lay one of these gores flat upon the j floor, fold it in the center, over this lay an-1 other gore, leaving a margin of the under J gore protruding from beneath. With a brush j cover the protruding edge with paste, then ; turn it up, and over upon the other gore, and with a towel or rag press it down until the J two edges adhere. Fold the upper gore in the center, as you did the first one, and lay a j third gore upon it; paste the protruding: edge, and so on until all 13 are pasted. It I will be found that the bottom gore and top ! gore have each an end unpasted ; lay these two edges together and paste them neatly. Next, you must make a hoop of rattan or some light substance to fit the mouth opening, which will be about one foot and a half in diameter. Fasten the hoop in by pasting the edges of the mouth opening around it. In very large paper balloons it is well to place a piece of string along the edge of each gore and paste it in, letting the ends of the strings hang down below the mouth. Fasten the hoop in with these ends before pasting the , paper over it. It will be found next to im-! possible to tear the hoop from a balloon 1 strengthened in this manner. Should you discover an opening at the top of your balloon, caused by the points not! joining exactly, tie it up with a string, if it be small, but if it be a large bole, paste a piece I of paper over it. When dry, take a fan and fan the balloon as full of air as you can, and j while it is inflated make thorough inspection of all sides, to see that there are no accidental tears, holes or rips. The fire-ball is best! made of old fashioned lamp wick, wound I rather loosely in the form of a ball, the size i depending upon the dimensions of the balloon. The sponge commonly used soon burns out and the balloon comes down in a very little while, but the wick-ball here described seldom fails to propel the little air-ship upward and onward and out of sight. A short, fine wire j should next be run quite through the wick- j ball, so that it can be attached to the mouth of the balloon in an instant by hooking the ends of this wire over the cross wires at the mouth. , If you use a little care, you will have no difficulty in seuding up the balloon. Place your wick-ball in a pan or dish, put the corked bottle of alcohol beside it, and about 30 feet away make a simple fire place of bricks or stones, over which place an old stovepipe. Fill the fire-place with shavings, 1 twisted pieces of paper or anything that will light readily and make a good blaze. In a loop of string fastened at the top of the balj loon for that purpose, let one of the party put t the end of a smooth stick, and with the other | end in his or her hand, mount some elevated j position and hold the balloon over the fire! place. Before touching a match to the combustibles below, expand the balloon as much : as possible by fanning it full of air ; then I light the fire. Be very careful, in all the! I process that follows, to hold the mouth of the ; balloon directly above and not too near the stovepipe, to prevent the blaze from setting : fire to the paper, which would easily catch. At this stage of proceedings one person must itake the bottle of alcohol, uncork it, and pour the contents over the wick ball in the basin, and the ball inuBt be made to soak up all it will hold of the spirits. The balloon will be! come more and more buoyant as the air be, comes heated inside, aud at length, when dis; tended to its utmost, it will begin pulling to free itself. Holding the hoop at the mouth, | walk to one side of the fire, aud with all speed have the ball attached securely in place. ; Touch a light to it, and it will blaze up. At the words "All right," let go. At the same instant the stick must be slipped from the loop on top, so, as not to tear the paper, and away will sail the balloon upon its airy voyage. ICE* If we trace the history of ice and snow as applied to the wants of mankind to early periods, we find that both were utilized in the East at a very ancient date. The manufacture of artificial ice was known, we are told, to the Greeks and Romans. The custom of cooling beverages with saltpetre was general in Italy in the sixteenth century. In the sevenieemn century ice cujm were imiu duced into France and Spain. A method of producing ice by chemical means was invented by a Mr. Walker in 1782. Leslie introduced the employment of sulphuric acid for the same purpose, in 1810. Harrison invented an ice-making machine, in which ether and salt were used, in 1857. The ice trade of this country was first introduced by Mr. Tudor, of Boston, in 1806. It is said that in many poitions of Asia the snow was in early times gathered in-sacks, far up in the mountains, and transported to the principal cities on the backs of mules, and there preserved in cavities sunk in the ground, carefully packed in layers of straw. Frederick Tudor, a wealthy citizen of Boston, largely engaged in salt works at Nahant, about the beginning of the present century, conceived the project of the shipment of ice to the West Indies, in 1805, at which time the yellow-fever was prevalent there; and his scheme was considered about as ludicrous, by his towns people, as was that of Lord Tim othy Dexter, who shipped to the same locality a cargo of warming pans. As to the success of both these ventures, history has chronicled the happy results which attended the enterprises, and Tudor is credited with the pioneership of an important commercial industry to the couutry. In the winter of 1805 Tudor harvested a crop of ice from a small pond near Boston, amounting to about three hun dred tons, which he conveyed by teams to Charlestown, where he loaded the brig Favorite with his novel freight and sailed with it to the island of Martinique, where the article was received with manifestations of surprise ! and incredulity by the inhabitants. Its ben| eficial advantages, however, were soon demonstrated, and in due time additional shipments amply paid the enterprising person, who became to be regarded as a benefactor, i | while profiting by his speculation. The British Government was the first to appreciate the advantages likely to accrue to i colonists from the introduction of ice, aud ; ten years after Mr. Tudor's first shipment, or < shortly nfr.pr the close of the war of 1812. he I received overtures that were very favorable toward the development of the industry. < The first was a grant of a monopoly of the trade upon conditions which he at once erabraced. The second was the release of certain port dues (then very heavy) to all ships bringing ice. The first regular cargo was shipped to Charleston, S. C., in the summer of 1817. ] That city was then the most important com- , mercial port in the Southern States. In | 1818, Mr. Tudor established a branch of the < trade in Savannah, a rival at that time of | Charleston ; and, in 1820, he established ice ( houses in New Orleans, which city, thirty < years later, became the greatest consuming j city in the United States, south of Philadel- , phia. It is a remarkable fact that at this j time, and for some little time later, the ice | trade was confined mainly to foreign export | and the supply of the Southern States, while | the localities in the vicinity of the sources | of supply in the Northern States were slow to ( adopt the new commodity. At the present , time ice is regarded more as an article of < staple use throughout the year than one of , mere luxury. There are delivered and con- j sumed in New York city alone, during the winter months, more tons of ice than were j cut, shipped and consumed in the United , States in an entire year thirty years ago. , WHAT IS RESPECTABLE SOCIETY. i We heard a man, otherwise intelligent ' enough, lately sneer at another, "because," 1 said he, "one never meet8 him in respectable 1 society!" The speaker did not mean, however, i that the person he affected to look down upon i was immoral, but merely that his circle of in- < timates were not composed of the fashionable i or the rich. I This notion of what constitutes respectable society, is quite a favorite one with that class ' of individuals whom Thackeray has so signifi- . cantly called "snobs." Empty pretence al- < ways makes its own characteristics a stand- 1 ard by which it strives to measure the respect- ] auilliy or persona ui jarge. m a ouujuiuuuy j of mere money getters, wealth is the test of respectability. Among the proud, narrow- 1 minded, eftete nobility of the Faubourg St. 1 Germain, respectability depends upon being < descendants from ancestors who have married I their cousins for so many centuries, that nei- I ther muscles nor brains are left any longer to I degenerate descendants. With the dandy of- < ficers who constitute a considerable portion of 1 the American Navy, respectability consists in I having sponged on "Uncle Sam," in wearing gilt buttons, and in jilting tailors. Every conceited fool thinks himself, in like way, the i only man really weighty, the only person who I is respectable. ' lit trnp rpyripntnliilitv dpnpnds on no such I adventitious circumstances. To be respecta-j | ble is to be worthy of respect; and he de- j i serves respect who has most virtue. The . humblest mau who bravely does his duty, is | I more worthy of respect, is more truly respect- j I able, than the covetous millionaire among his ! i money bags, or the arrogant monarch upon < his throne. The tine lady who backbites her I neighbor, is less worthy of respect than an j honest wash-woman. The profligate noble, j 1 though he may wear a dozen orders at his i < button-hole, is often not really as respectable 11 as the shoe black who cleans his boots. That JI which is called "the world" exalts the one I I and despises the other, but it does not make ] them respectable according to the real mean-:' ing of that word. Their respectability is but [ i a hollow sham, as they themselves frequently j 1 feel ; and those who worship them bow down i to a Fetish, a thing of feathers and tinsel. < The selfish, idle drone, who wastes life in his i own gratification, and dissipates the fortuue ; I of his progeny, is not and cannot be respecta- I : ble ; but the hard-working, self denying fath- i er, who wears out his life to bring up his chil- i | dren is, even though he be but a day-laborer. 1 Nothing can make Dives fit to lie upon Abra- I ham's bosom, while Lazarus is welcomed there, even with the sores the dogs have licked. 1 This false view of life, which would meas- j ure respectability by a conventional standard, is totally at variance with our Republican institutions. It creates an "imperium in imperio," for while the Jaw declares all citizens equal, it erects a social standard which endeavors to ignore that great truth. The coarse, brutish, knavish, profligate criminal? in short, all who fall short of their duty to themselves aud their fellow-men?are those who are not "respectable and this whether they are rich or poor. While those who live honestly, and strive to do what good they can, constitute in reality, the respectable class, ir respective of the fact whether they eat with silver forks or steel ones.?Philadelphia Ledger. RESPECT OLD AGE. There, give him all the path. Tread slowly and reverently in his presence. Hush that - *11 r* rude laughter ; cnecK mat line jest, oee you not upon bis temples the snow of many winters ? See you not '.he sunken eye, the bowed form, the thin hand upon whose surface the blue veins stand out like cords ? Gone are the beauty and the strength of manhood ; and in that faded eye but little light is left, save that of love and kindness. That voice has lost its music, save the soft undertone of affection. Sit down, young friend, and hear that story of the olden time; and if, in looking backwards into the mists of the past, he sometimes forgets?sometimes confounds dates, and incidents, or tells the same old tale for the twentieth time?think, over what a va9t, vast field his laboring memory wanders. Think, over what a checkered web of events, thought takes her beaten track down into the depths of years. Oh, the joys and sorrows, the hopes and disappointments, the anxieties, and wrongs, artd sufferings he rouses from their dreamy beds, as he tights life's "battle o'er again." "And scenes long lost, of joy and pain, Come wildering o'er his aged brain," Standing upon the boundary line between life and the untried future, his feet would fain turn backward into the paths of the past. One moment he longs for rest?the next come back the mocking memories of departed joys. The thorns have dropped silently away amidst the leaves of the ioses he gathered in childhood and youth?their beauty and fragrance alone remain. Oh, you in whose hounding veins young life yet lingers ; and you in the full beauty and vigor of manhood, respect the aged ! Speak gently, hush the rude laugh, check the idle jest, listen to the wisdom which is the voice of experience. Cheer him with kindly words ; encircle with yourstrong arm, and lead him as he descends the Western hill of life, the shadows deepening into night? the white hairs upon his temple already driftinn, in tko ?nnl Kraa7o trliinh nnmPK lin frnm the valley of death. Honor the aged, that he may leave you his blessing on the threshold'of the unknown land. Honor him, and God will raise up for you friends to remove the thorns from the last league of your own life journey ; for the sake of the weary one of the long ago, who never wept for your ingratitude, whose bowed form never struggled with a weight of care or grief which you might have carried, while you walked carelessly along, intent upon your own ease and pleasure. Honor the aged, for His sake who was old before the world was?whose life is from everlasting to everlasting. Honor liim that feebly walketh With his staff, the white haired sage, God will curse the wretch that mocketh Hoary hairs, with slighted aye. LAKGE AND SMALL BULLETS. The fact that the assassin used a large bullet instead of a common sized one, is very much in the President's favor. Jtisa fact [.hat most people, not versed in surgical science do not realize, that the small ball is more dangerous than the large one. They eall it strange thut harm can come of the in iignificant bits of lead carried by our small pocket pistols. The fact is as stated, however, and the reason is simple. In the first place, musket ball wounds are less dreaded by surgeons than pistol ball wounds, because the musket halls are more apt to go clear through. The worst thing to happen is for the ball to lodge, for the presence of thv, foreign substance causes inflammation, foul gatherings and discharges and blood poisoning. 3o, carrying the comparison along, a large pistol ball is more likely to go through than * TT _ _ ?_ I J i small one. nence n, is jess aangerous. Its only increase of peril comes in the fact of its size, which gives it greater opportunity to :ut an artery. If it does not do that, its chance of mischief is less than if it were smaller. If it does make that cut, death comes at once from bleeding. But the large bullet has not gone clear through President Garfield's body, and the explanation of its lessened danger might not seem to apply, but it does. The larger the ball the larger hole it makes on its way in. This facilitates the lischarge of the wound very much. There is a greater opportunity for the affected spot lo get rid of its own evils and so to heal, rhis factor is worth considerable in the opinion of skillful physicians and is all in the i President's favor. Thus it happeus that the j cold-blooded design of making the work J ihorough by the use of a large bullet may j prove the one condition on which recovery is | possible. A leading surgeon has in his possession a : pistol ball, not much larger than a buckshot, < which killed a man ; and yet he treated a sol-; lier, now alive and well, though a half-pound i call had made a clean hole, going in through ! die lungs and out at the back. In this case ! ihe hole was so large that the wound took j care of itself and cured. In the other, the | bole was so small that the accumulated mat- j ;er could not escape. Phenomenal Railroad Building.?A remarkably feat of railroad building will be l.he line from Portland to Dallas, Oregon, j when it is finished. Much of the roadway j must be blasted in the flintv face of loftv preci- ; pices, or drilled through no less unyielding rock, and every foot is a struggle with nature. About 10 miles below Dallas is a bluff of oasaltic rock, rising abruptly 300 feet from the Columbia river, along whose side the road is to pass. Men suspended by ropes 150 feet! Dver this wall drill and blast the solid rock, | their work being attended by the greatest dan- { >er. The largest blast on the line thus far ! lias been at a point 10 miles above the Cas-! lades, a mass of rock 165 feet high, 170 wide j ind 70 thick at the base, containing more ; than 40,000 cubic yards, being removed by i the explosion of 10,000 pounds of Judson | powder, equal in force to 20,000 of black, j Three tunnels from 300 to 550 feet loog are now being drilled, steam or compressed aw { being used in the work. At two points a j new and phenomenal difficulty is encounter- | 2d, the mountain settling, or sliding into the river at the rate of about twelve inches a , year, and the trouble will not cease with the , finishing of the road. In other places the | mountain side is covered with small broken i stones, which slip with every movement below, and the walls of heavy rock to be built high up on the cliff to check the descent. Trestle-work and bridges will also have to be erected along the line. The maximum 2jrade is 20 feet to the mile, and there is hard ]y a mile of straight track at a stretch. Notwithstanding these difficulties and the fact that the road was located only a year ago, the Oregon railway and navigation company expect to have the line of 86 miles finished this year. It will cost 83,600^000, or nearly $42,000 a mile. THE WATER OF THE NILE. Bruce, in his "Scenes and Sights in the j East," says : The waters of the East, wheth er good or bad* are all soft. About the , analysis of the water of the Nile I have no ! curiosity, and I would not be pleased to re! ceive information. To be made acquainted | with the chemical elements which compose I our food or our drink, is enough to destroy all pleasure in eating and drinking, and to 1 n.% I 1 _ j subject the substance 01 tne veneraoie goou Nilus to the tortue of scientific analysis looks like impiety. The Nile water is particularly soft; it fills the mouth with a rich creamy taste; and in drinking it, in order to enjoy it, it is well to spread it over every part of the palate. It should be drank, not to quench thirst, but to create high pleasure. It should not, therefore, beswajlowed in large draughts at a time, but taken at short intervals, every hour or so. In the house, the water jar?the admirable Egyptian water jar?should be at hand day and night continually. Mhch refreshment of soul would be obtained by your rising from bed during the night and taking repeated draughts?allowing them to remain 6ome little tiuie in your mouth, so as to keep up an abidiug sense of pleasure on your palate. The passion of Nile water, like the love of every thing that is intensely exquisite in its way, increases with its enjoyment. No one who h* once or twice tasted Nile water, and has a capacity for pleasure, will ever after consent to drink of it poisoned with the iufusion of any other liquid. Jealous of its own honor, it appears to be the most averse of all waters to join in harmony with wine. Indeed, mixed with wine, it is a nauseous compound. The illustrious river seems opposed to alliance with ignoble fluids, and to court admiration and love in its own character, "without the foreign aid of ornament." At the hotels the water undergoes Alteration. In the cottages through the country, it is kept in large vessels which allow the sediment to fall to the bottom. The small clay jars in which it is placed before you in tne hotels, are very graceful in form and finely adapted to keep the liquid cool. Expensive Drugs.?A Milwaukee baldheaded man told a doctor that his hair was falling out, and asked him if be didn't know of something that would stop it. The doctor 9aid he would fix him, so he wrote a prescription, which was as follows : Chloride of Sodium 1 oz. Aqua pura 8 oz. Shake well ana rub on the scalp every morning. The bald man went to the druggist and had the prescription put up, paying 81.17 for it. He asked the druggist if it wasn't a little high, but he felt ashamed when the druggist asked him if he knew how much aqua pura cost a gallon. He said be didn't, but supposed it comes high. The druggist told him that aqua pura was one of the most penetrating drugs in the store, and as for chloride of sodium, there was nothing like it, and the war in Peru had sent it up kiting. The bald man used the medicine and felt us though it was doing him good. His wife noticed little new hairs coming out, and be felt good, so when the stuff was gone he took the bottle to the store and had it filled again. The chap who filled it this time was another chap, and when the bald headed man threw down a dollar the drugger said: "0, never mind, we won't charge you anything for that." The bald man asked him how that was, when the drugger said : "Why, it is only salt and water, anyway. The salt is only 2 cents a pound, and the water is pretty cheap this year." The bald man gave one gasp, and said : "Well, by the great bald headed Elijah, I paid 81 for filling that bottle before, and I want my money back. It is a baldheaded swindle. I thought that Peruvian story didn't look plausible." The drugger gave the man a box of cigars to keep still about it, but he won't speak to the other drugger who charged him a dollar.?Peck's Sun. The Southern Crops.?Senator Joseph E. Browu, writing from his plantation in North Georgia, to the Atlanta Constitution, giving the condition of the crops in that portion of the State, predicts that this will be one of the shortest years ever known. He says: "The crops in all this section are cut very short by the drought. I have lately been in Arkansas, and they are the shortest I have ever seen all the way. The fall crops, such as potatoes and turnips, promise very little. My opinion is that the prospects for provisions for man and beRSt for the coming year are less promising than any I have ever seen. In this emergency our people should be extremely careful to save everything that will sustain life. There is now a very large quantity of corn in the State that has no ear. The tassel is dead or dying, and no amount of rain could cause it to make corn. Much of the fodder is still green and the stalk is green. All such corn should be cut down immediately just below the green blades, and after lying in the 9un a day or two it should be carefully shocked and stalks tied tightly around the tops of the shocks. As soon as tUo ofq 1 lra q? ftrv in flip shnnir it should be put under shelter. In this way a vast quantity of food for stock, which is now wasting, could be saved. It will be greatly needed next winter. No stalks should be cut that are not yet in tassel, as in the case of good rains, they might make corn. When it does rain people should sow heavily of winter varieties of turnips. If they do not grow large they may make salad. I trust you will warn the people of their danger, and do all you can to induce them to prepare for the severe trial which awaits them." Why the Law is Uncertain.?Language is an imperfect instrument for the ex-1 pression of ideas. Not a few of its forms are j ambiguous?that is, they speak in two ways. j Readers and hearers are left in old Isaac's ' perplexity. The voice is that of Jacob, the 1 hand is that of Esau. Many of the terras of language are equivocal. They have two meanings, so the reader1 is in doubt as to the mind or intention of the writer. Those who draft statutes know how difficult; it is to frame a law which shall be free from ! ambiguous expressions or equivocal terms. | Judge Story once told a personal incident, | which illustrates this difficulty. He was employed by Congress to draft an act. So important was it tha. be spent six months in trying to perfect its phraseology. His purpose was to make the statute so clear that the most astute lawyer should not be able to cast the shawow of a doubt upon its meaning. The draft, proving satisfactory to the lawyers in Congress, became a'law. In less than a year, a suit, involving the interpretation of this very law, came before the court over which Judge Story presided. Having heard the arguments of the able attorneys, the judge confessed that he was unable to docide upon the meaning of a statute which he him-H. self had framed. He, of'course, knew what be had meant to put iuto the law. But the criticism of the two lawyers showed him that he had used such ambiguous expressions, that it was doubtful if he had said what he meant to have said. How She Cured Him of Swearing.? The husband of a certain Nashville Ldy was, before his marriage, a furious tiwearer. Through his wife's influence he left off this bad habit, except one favorite cus word, which clung to him under all circumstances, and which, to the great annoyance of his good wife, he would unconsciously use everywhere?the word "damn." Several months since he arose one cold morning, before the servant came in to make the wood Are, and, after a long effort and fruitless burning of many matches, turned and said : "Sallie, this rtnmn w.in't hum " To this the CTOod wife earnestly said: "Yes, the damn wood is too damn green, and the damn servant has forgotten to bring up any damn kindling wood to start the the damn fire with." He looked at his wife in absolute dismay, but at once saw the point and said nothing. A longer period than usual passed without the favorite expletive being used, but later on he wanted a basket aud said, after looking for it: "Sallie, where has the damn basket got to ?" The wife quietly, as if putting a child to sleep, said : "Ask the damn cook to get the damn basket?damn her, she keeps it." As before, he said nothing; but months have passed, and, if he damns anything, it is not where she is. She says it was like taking quinine, and she always went and washed out her mouth afterward ; but he is cured. The First Saw-Mill.?The old practice in making boards was to split up the logs with wedges; and, inconvenient as the practice was, it was no easy thing to persuade the wsrld that it could be done in any bettor way. Sa v-mills were first used in Europe in the fifteenth century; but so lately as If55, an English ambassador, having seen a saw-mill in France, thought it a novelty which deserved a particular description. It is amusing to see how the aversion to labor-saving machinery has always agitated England. The first saw-mill was established by a Dutchman, in 1663 ; but the public outcry against the new-fangled machine was so violent, that the proprietor was forced to decamp with more expedition than ever did a Dutchman before. The evil was thus kept out of Eng' j * 1 ? Mn.nliAni J Ann ior several jcanjj ur l atuci gcuuovivua f bub in 1768, an unlucky timber merchant, hoping that after so long a time the public would be less watchful of its own interests, made a rash attempt to construct another mill. The guardians of the public welfare, however, were on the alert, and a conscientious mob at ODce collected and pulled the mill to pieces. Such patriotic spirit could not always last, and now, though we have nowhere seem the fact distinctly stated, there is reason to be* lieve that saw-mills are used in England.? Philadelphia Ledger. ???? V The Invention of Shoes.?Sandals were most common among the Orientals. Asi they were mere soles of wood or leather fastened to the foot with strings, they were no protection from the dust; hence arose the hospitable practice of washing the visitors' feet? a practice so much insisted upon by public opinion, that if any one passing out of a ' house beat the dust from his feet, it showed that they had not been washed, and loft on the house the reproach of inhospitality, which was the deepest of .all dishonor. The Greeks and Romans added the moccasin or buskin to the sandal?the former was worn by tragic actors. The shoe makes quite a feature in English history. In the time of Richard I, says Stowe, "began the detestible use of piked shoes, the toes being tied up to the knee with chains of silver or gilt." Edward IV, says the same historian, ordained "that no man shall wear shoes or boots having the toes pc3sing two inches loner: no peaks of boots or shoes to pass that length on pain of cursing by the cle-gie."?Home Journal. An Artful Miser.?Some time ago, a gentleman called upon a certain nobleman, in Paris, a very wealthy and inordinately mean character, and found him at the breakfast table, quite alone, and deing his utmost to catch a fly which was buzzing about the room. "What the deuce are you about?" demanded the astonished visitor, to whom the spectacle of an old man amusing himself by catching flies seemed very singular, to say the least. "Hush !" exclaimed the other. "I'll tell you presently." After many efforts, the old fellow at last succeeded in entrapping the fly. Taking the insect carefully between his thumb and foreflnger, he put it into the sugar-bowl and quickly dropped the lid over his prisoner. His visitor, more annoyed than ever, knowing as he did the avaricious character of the man before him, repeated the question. "I'll tell you," replied the miser, a triumphant grin overspreading his countenance as he spoke; "I want to ascertain if the servants steal the sugar." t&' In the winter of 1863-4, Hayes' Louisiana brigade presented Maj. John W. Daniel, who will be remembered as the orator al; the Centennial celebration of the battle of King's Mountain, as a token of their admiration, a pair of silver spurs which cost $3,200 in the currency of the Confederacy. When he was badly wounded in the thigh in the battle of the Wilderness, the foot of bis shattered 'inb - - - 11 * - ? *i. lay upon his breast as ne leu, wnen wim ma own hands, he unbuckled one of those spurs and handed it to a friend who had taken off the other, telling him to take care of them. Expecting to fall in the hands of the enemy, he was unwilling for them to capture his spurs, and they are still in his possession. He also took from his haversack the Confederate countersign, and gave it to the same friend, lest it might fall into the hands of the enemy. A Gentleman.?What is it to be a gentleman? Thackeray says: Is it to have lofty aims, to lead a pure life, to keep your honor virgin; to have the esteem of your fellow-citizens and the love of your firesides ; to bear good fortune meekly; to suffer evil with constancy; and through evil or good to maintain truth always? Show me the happy man whose life exhibits these qualities, and him we will salute as a gentleman, whatever his rank may be. Show me the prince who possesses them, and he may be sure of our love and our loyalty. The 100th Psalm.?The long-disputedquestion whether Purcell or Handel was the author of the grand music of the Old Hundreth has been set at rest by a discovery made a few days since in Loudon Cathedral Library. Purcell died" in 1695, and Handel in 1759. But in the Cathedral library, a French psalter, printed in 1546, contains the music of the Old Hundredth, exactly as it is now sung, so that it could not be the production of either of the great musicians to whom it bad been attributed. 9&* We could explain many a coldness could we look into the heart concealed from us; we should often pity when we hate, love when we think we cannot forgive, admire when we curl the lip with scorn and indignation.