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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j ^it Jithjmtiitnt Jatniln llUtosppcr: jfw % ^rdutfftiait erf fjjt political, j>0tia[, ^grintlltiral arrb Cffmnttrcial $ntertsts of f|t Scutjj. |termS--$2.50 a yeah, in advance. "VOL. 27. . YORIvVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1881. 40. Original f octru. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. TEAKS. BY ASAPH. Here, tears flow from various shades of feeling, Bntall triekledown theelieek with many asigh, E'er growing brighter as they go softly stealing In radiant beauty from the downcast eye. Some creep slowly o'er sad, nale cheeks mildly, While others rush down like a mountain rill, With deep feeling flashing oft so wildly, The}' seem, indeed, with powe r almost to kill! Yes, when they come as messengers of sadness And unbidden, they're eloquent with grief; But when they're raised by warm hearts of gladness, 'Tis then thev charm and bring sweet relief. But 'tis while the heart is wrung with anguish, That tears in showers do like raindrops fall, While the soul within doth pine and languish For that which it can never more recall. Too oft they're shed when we sit lonely, And first learn by falsehood we've been misled; None know how such tears sting, but those only Who oft themselves such saddening drops have shed. O ! 'tis then with joy we read the story How Jesus, often weeping, did on earth appear; Some through tears may go to glory. And there rejoice o'er every grief and fear! But who can tell the weight, depth or measure Of a tear, or the cause that makes it flow ? Whether it is from grief, deceitor pleasure. We mav make a guess, but none here can know. But this is true: tears shed at the altar Bv returning prodigals with contrite sighs, If they pray in faith and never falter, Will be turned to bright jewels in the skies. Yea, while a heart-stricken sinner's praying, 'Tisthen that burning tears in sorrow "flow, That naught can stay here but Jesus saying, Arise, poor sinner, go and sin no more. Then there will be peace and adoration That will cause songs and tears at once to leap, Both from eyes and mouth, in exultation, Till the soul lies silent at Jesus' feet! And yet deep and unfathomable treachery Hides well itself in great round tears, And there too oft lurk revenge and lechery With the despair of the inebriate's fears." Thus alike from sorrow, grief and gladness, Here streams of tears from mortal eyelids flow; Bntthey are purest when brought forth by sadness And lorced by anguish down the cheeks to go! m Jto leUcrT" AUTOBIOGRAPHYOFATAWYER. I believe that I started io life under the auspices of my father's aunt Deborah?a maiden lady of sixty-four, who, iu place of father and mother whom I never saw, alternately petted and scolded me as long as she was able. I escaped from both when I was eleven years old by running away ; and although she sent me innumerable messages, when she discovered ray whereabout, to return to her, and be sent to school and fitted for college, I undutifully refused ever to go near her again. I had "hired out" with a small farmer to do his "chores" for ray board and clothes, and I stayed three years; at the end of which time rav roving propensities moved me to run off from him. I had made my arrangements, and was even mounted on the top of the Reading stage, when who should come into the tavern yard but the farmer. "Where are you goiog, boy ?" he called out in a hard and severe tone. "To Boston, sir." "To Boston !" I cannot describe the manner in which he said this; but it woke up all the memories of floggings which left scars yet, I have not time to tell you of now, auy more than the immortal Fusbos had. He was a coarse, profane man, and he launched out into a strain of abuse which would have made my j blood chill if I had beeu afraid of him, and j bade me get down instantly and go home. "Thank you, sir," I said, "I am engaged ! to somebody else." At this moment the stage started. He or- j dered the driver to stop and let me down ; but he drove on, and I am almost ashamed to record that I made a significant gesture,! with my thumb and finger upon my yery de- j cent Roman nose, and calling out, "Good-by, | sir?you shall hear of me some day," I went; off* in the exultant triumph of freedom. I was delighted with the fine prospect which I enjoyed in my elevated seat. The driver was very kind to me, refusing to take my money for the whole journey, and offeriug to find me a stopping place in the city. At that time there was a very old house in Howard street, now demolished, in which a Mr. Jones kept boarders for a number of; years. Here he stopped the stage to let me down. "What shall I do, driver !" said I. "Just ring that bell, my lad," and somebody will come and let you in." "I looked at the top of the door." "I don't see any bell, sir," said I, timidly. The man burst into a loud laugh. "Pull that knob, greeny !" he said, at last; and straightway I pulled it again and again,1 until Mr. Jones, a queer looking old fellow, with one leg, and a dilapidated eye, came to the door, and looked daggers out of the remaining orb of vision, upon the luckless wight who had broken hilbell wire. "Let that youngster stay with you and Ma'am Jones till 1 come up to supper," said the still laughing driver?and I stayed. Ma'am Jones was a lady that would have made a fine companion for Daniel Lambert, j Sheltered beneath her capacious wing, I could bid defiance to little Mr. Jones, who dared not attack anything wbich his wife might take a fancy for petting. The old lady liked me very much ; and this knowledge, together with the daily sight of my friend, the driver, kept me contented and happy through the winter. I scoured knives, and performed quite a series of similar dignified labors every morning ; but when boys of my own age were round, I sometimes thought, while looking at their good and respectable clothing, that it would not have been a very bad plan for me to have accepted aunt Deborah's offer j of sending me to the college. Au opportunity offering to go to sea, I prepared to go, despite the eutreaties, and even | tears of the fat landlady. When she found j me determined, she provided me with everything needful for the voyage, hugged me to her capacious heart, and bade me God-speed. Jones, who was so angry because I stayed there, was still more so wheu I went away ; and in his wife's absence, taunted me with t my new clothes, which he more than half suspected caine from her, although they passed as the stage driver's gift. The servants all assembled to see me go away, and their hearty, "Good-bye, Sam ! a safe return to you, old fellow !" was probably more sincere than nine tenths of the good wishes that have been spoken to me since that time. I shall say but very little about my sea-! life. It did not answer my expectations at all. I never passed a day without intolerable sea-sickness, and being a slight, delicate boy, the captain advised me as a friend to stay in future upon the land. Going on shore, the mate stepped forward and shook my hand, saying : "Well, Sam. you have killed a sailor after all." I did not then know the meaning of this phruse ; but wheu I got back to the old I house in Howard street, my friend, the driver repeated it, and from him I got the ex| planation of the term. I could not go back to my kitchen work again after my voyage, so I looked out dili! gently for son e employment. An advertise| ment in the p per for a printer's boy caught my eye, and a applied and was received. Here I was quite happy. I made myself a favorite in the office, and fortunately succeeded in learning the business so that my services would always command a fair remuneration. At twenty-one I married Susan Russell, the daughter of my employer. I am thus brief in recording this, because by no alchemy whatever could I convert old-fashioned and matter-of-fact liking for each other, and subsequent union, into anything like romance. The whole might be compressed into a single sentence. I liked her, and married her when I found that she also liked me. My description of our new home would be Quite as brief. We took two rooms, furnish* J "" " ed thera comfortably, and Susan kept them shining like silver the whole year round. If ever I eujoyed true, real, unmerited happiness, without care or anxiety, or fear for the future, it vras in those days. What peace we enjoyed ! Our two eldest children were born here, aud then our limits seemed too small ; but it was real pain to both of us to move from the snug abode which had been the scene of so many calm and peaceful hours. We removed to a cottage in the suburbs of Boston ; not those miniature cities which now rise up beside the venerable Tri mountain, but a sm8.ll and obscure village, since risen to the size and importance it deserves. About the time that we removed, and were quietly settled, a very important law case was on the docket, aud when it came on, we were very busy printing the reportBof the trial as it progressed. I became intensely absorbed in it; not so much from sympathy with the parties concerned, as from a feeling that, were I acquainted with the technicalities of the law, I could seize upon very many points of importance wl.ch I believed the prisoner's counsel had overlooked altogether. This idea grew stronger and stronger upon my mind. I bad access to law books which were in my employer's sanctum, and I pored over them sometimes all night long. Mr. Russell had been bred to the law, but had relinquished his profession for that of an editor some years before the birth of my wife. I frankly stated to him my wishes in regard to fitting myself for the bar. He at first laughed, then seriously tried to dissuade me from attempting it. Opposition onlv strengthened mv Dumose. and I enter J o mJ ^ a ed the office of an eminent lawyer, who overlooked ray deficiencies in some respects, in consideration, as he was pleased to term it, of the talent and acumen which iny replies to his questions displayed. I now wrote for the journal which I had been accustomed to print, and with such secrecy that Mr. Russell did not find out who his new contributor wa3. He would often wonder in my presence, who it could be, and ascribed to him a degree of talent a brilliancy of expression such as I had hardly hoped to deserve. He often?too, imputed my articles to and then the two leading writers of the day, and expressed his opinion that they would not remain incog, a great while. This flattery pleased me, but I did not allow my vanity to lead me into betraying myself. Through a third party, I received a larger compensation for my labor, certainly, than I should have done had my wise father-in-law mistrusted who was his correspondent. 1 studied hard, and at length had the inexpressible satisfaction of being admitted to < .1 ? < > n i r . i /y? :.l I tne ctunoiK oar. i iook an orace wim au- < other young lawyer in order to reduce our expenses, and waited anxiously for the firBt brief that should be offered. Poor Susan ! My heart aches at the re- ! membrance of certaiu privations to which, j with angel sweetness she submitted at this period, in order that I might appear respectable. My contributions to various literary journals barely gave"us the means of sustenance ; end I had so nearly offended Mr. Russell by slighting his advice, that I dared not apply to him for assistance. One day, in passing from our suburban residence to the city, I met my old landlady. Mrs. Jones. She looked at me hard, and I returned it. There was no mistaking that good honest countenance and expressive form even when dressed in the deepest mourning. A widow's ample veil hung on the back of her head and nearly swept the street. The recognition was mutual, and the old lady's raptures at finding me were almost too strong for out-door exhibition. She told me of poor Jones' death, and of her removing to the country when the old house in Howard street was torn down. "And now," she said, plaintively, "I am alone in the world." "Come and live with me," were my first words. "You gave me a home when I was a lone child." I stopped, for the thought pressed back upon me that I was poor, and unable to sup- j port my own family. A strange smile flitted ' over the face of my friend, while she inquired > my situation. I told her, and described my j wife and children. She said : "I will go to you. I cau help your wife ] enough to pay my board." I was almost dismayed at what I had done, ! when I considered the immense appetite which I had inconsiderately offered to supply, and which I well remembered of old. But I j clung to my bargain, and begged her to come j immediately. "You will find us in rather close quarters," 1 I said, "but you shall come and be welcome." ! We agreed that she should be there the i following Monday, and I went home to Su- J san whom I in t with rather an embarrassed air. She look d at the matter more philo- ; sophically thar I had expected, and prepared her best chair r for Mrs. Jones' reception, | heroically carr ing in many little conveniences of which w? had no duplicates. My relatiou of Mrs. Jones' former kindness to me, and my description of her present lonely and widowed state, made Susan shed tears. She promised to do everything in her power for the forlorn whom she thought would now be thrown upon me for maintenance and upon herself for companionship. Mrs. Jones arrived on Monday morning, carpet-bag in hand, and followed by a handcart, bearing her old and somewhat dilapida- | ted hairtruuk. We received her kindly, and she seemed pleased and happy when she sat down to Susan's simple and excellent dinner. The children were attentive, and kept passing food near the new guest. A fortnight passed away, and we began to feel that we could scarcely do without Mrs. Jones. She was invaluable as an assistant to Susan, and in marketing for us, her services were beyond all praise. We gave her our slender purse every morning, as she thought she could do better with it than we could ; and it was perfectly amazing to see the loads of provisions, and the superior quality of the same, which she obtained. Susan and I began to think we had been greviously cheated in our former purchases, t So, wheu our wardrobe imperatively called | for additions, Mrs. Jones would go out with I the money for a sixpenny print, and return with something handsome and valuable, for my wife, aud a nice raiment for Kitty, and then Bhe would sit down and make them both up with all the skill of an experienced mantau-maker. Susan handed me some bills, one day that she said had been left there by a collector, including one for our rent, and one for the last suit of clothes which I had been unwillingly forced to buy in order to keep up a respectable appearance. My countenance fell I some degrees I fancy, for I had no money to pay them. Mrs. Joues was bustling round the dinuer table, and she said rather sadly, that she felt that, she ought not to be living upon us, and j perhaps she had better go away. "Kever, my good friend," said I, and "Nevj er," echoed Susy. I assured her that I would not listen to her leaving us?that I trusted very soon to I get business, and that come what would she j should share our last; loaf. The good old ! soul hugged us both at once, and then setting j her cap and wiping her eyes she went quietly i back to her work. After dinner she went I out, hut we reiterated our injunctions that she I should not seek another home as long as she I could put up with ours. I I called round in the evening at the vari ous places from whence I received the bills. To my utter surprise, the answer was that they had all been settled. I inquired by whom, but no one could recollect. They were all cancelled on the various books. I was thoroughly amazed, for I knew no one but Mr. Russell who could do it for me, and hardly thought it of him. Susy was as surprised as myself, but she rather inclined to the belief that it was her father, so I quietly let her indulge her pleasant belief. We got through the summer, but winter was coming on, and I actually trembled at its approach. Industrious as I was?prudent as Susy had ever been?we could not hope to get through the cold weather without both suffering and toil, and with debts superadded. I had been at the office all day, on one gloomy time in November, anxiously debating whether I should go to printing again. I considered all the whys aud wherefores, counted the costs again aDd again, and by the most careful arithmetic, I could not find that the change would benefit me a sou. I was toiling unremittingly now, and I should have done 30 if I returned to printing, and with scarcely even so much success as now. I became heartily discouraged with the prospect before me. Had I been alone in the world I could have borne it patiently. Suffering aud privation brought no terrors to me individually, but the thought of those who were dear to me at home, unmanned me. And the darker the prospect, the more I shrunk from allowing Mrs. Joues to feel that -L 1... ?i \r? sue was a uuiuen ujjuu us. nu ? uuiuu unui might, the good old woman should not be removed from the circle in which she seemed to have placed all her happiness. She should live with us as long as she lived at all, and if we were reduced to beggary, why we would beg for her too. I started up and paced the office with an impatient step. It may seem strange that a strong healthy man, should be so powerless as I was to procure a living for my family ; but so it was. It was growing dusk, and I felt it was near my time to go home. I had intended sending some fuel to my house, but I was disappointed in some money that a certain publisher of a daily paper was owing me, and I now dreaded that there was darkness on the hearth at home. I was just locking up, when a boy came up to me with a folded paper. I read it under the lamp post. It ran thus: "Come to No.?, Tremont Road at six o'clock." I saw no alternative but to do as I was asked. The boy was gone, so I could make no excuse; and I walked over the damp leaves that crushed upon the sidewalks, which the November blast had shaven that very hour from the trees. I went over the ground rapidly, tor I wanted to learn the errand, and be away. I rang at the number designated. It was a good brick house, with substantial granite steps, a well lighted vestibule with glass doors, and I could see that the whole front was well supplied with gas. I heard little feet scampering through the hall, but as the doors were of grooved glass, I could see nothing. A servant came to the door, and waited on me to a handsome drawing-room, with plain but new and good furniture. I waited in curious speculation for some minutes. There had been no plate upon the door, so I could not even tell the name of the person wishing to see me. I was standing before the chimney-piece, examining a picture, when a child ?* wnnm Tf U'Q a on llftlo IT it. I t&U llltu U1C 1 UUlli. ? V II UU ov iinv i?vw?w ty, that I would have called her so, had not the pretty embroidered robe and silk apron looked so different from our children's plain clothes. But another little head was peeping in at the open door, and that was little Charley, only for the scarlet frock and neat gaiters ; and then the two made a long rush across the floor, and ran into my arms; while slowly and majestically, sweeping along in her ample crapes and bombazines, came portly Mrs. Jones, and behind her Susy, smiling and blushing like the dawn. I think I had a womanly feeling come upon me just then. I felt a sort of faiutness, and I passed my hand across my eyes, to be sure that I was wide awake. Susy laid her hand upon my shoulder. "You owe it to this kind friend here," whispered she. "She has been trying you deeply." "Trying me?" I said aloud. "Yes, ray good friend," said Mrs. Jones, herself. "I was rich, and had no one about me but selfish and interested people, who wanted all my money. I have long owned this house, and lived in it when I met you first; hut a thought suggested by your invitation to go to you induced me to try whether you would keep me if I had happened to be poor, aod I am abundantly satisfied with the result. We made money at the old house in Howard street, which no one but ourselves ever knew of, and I always intended to find you and make you my heir. I had, however, rather that you would enjoy ray property, while lean have the pleasure of seeing you ; on I invito vnn to return mv visit. You will find a handsome office, well fitted up for you i in Court street, when you go down to morrow. I The boy who will wait on you has the key of the door, but here are the keys of the desk and library. I declare to you, reader, the generosity of this woman unmanned me more than the disi consolate thoughts which had haunted me the whole afternoon. It seemed too good to | believe, and when we walked out to the diningroom, and sat down to supper at which no : expense was spared, I could only look from one to the other, and wonder if I was in a dream. j I took possession of my grand office the next day. Briefs poured in upon me ; for who ! will not require the services of a rich lawyer, and who wants the services of a poor one? I rose rapidly, and am still standing in high places. I speak it with reverence, I owe it to a woman. We bought the cottage, with its little garI den, and we go there in summer and play poverty again for a few of the hottest weeks. We have four children now, and Mrs. Jones pets them all. She is now trying to have me seek out my old aunt Deborah, and perhaps I will. The old farmer, too, I intend . now that he shall "hear from me." IpsttUmus fvcatUug. Written for the Vorkville Enquirer. A MONTH AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. The scorching rays of a July sun drove us from our otherwise pleasant home amid the oaks, whose wide spreading boughs made a contiguity of shade second to none we had ever enjoyed. But even the breeze that seldom fanned our cheek seemed laden with heat. In consequence thereof, we abandoned the shades of home to seek the cool and bracing air among the mountains, Henderson ville, N. C., being our objective point. w- -?i IT e luutt. uii uic upaiittuuuig auu Asheville Railroad. Tbe entire country along this line of road is perfectly enchanting. The towering mountain peaks, covered with luxriant verdure of living green, are grand, baffling description, to speak of which all language fails and silence begs for thought. Enraptured, we gaze upon the beauteous scenery; with insatiate ardor we feast our eyes in profound silence, drinking in each healthful draught as it comes to us fresh from the mountain heights. Insensible to time and travel, we find ourselves at our destination, to our surprise, some time after the sun had set, as we had during our travel to this point, been living far above the common level. Wrapt in profound admiration of the scenes through which we had just passed, our admiration was wrought (o the spirit land. This sudden, abrupt termination was a shock to our sensibilities. Hearing the wild and uncivilized yells of "Take the yellow 'bus for Chase's Globe !"?"This side fur the red 'bus; take you anywhere in the city!"?'twas most certainly chaos and confusion. A fellow hardly knew which way to turn?whether he was on his head or heels?a perfect nuisance over which the town authorities should exercise some degree of control, to the relief of the poor traveler. Well we had tickets for the yellow'bus, and must needs ride therein and go to "Chase's Globe," and go we did, and a most excellent house we found it, preferable to any in the town. The town was crowded to over! flowing. Hotels and private boarding hous: es had all that they could comfortably accora Imodate; but still they came. Henderson vim; seemeu iu ue me peace, una aumuuei. Many went through to Asheville, the Warm Springs and Waynesville ; but their stay was short. They would return to Hendersonville to spend the remainder of their mountain summer trip. Indeed, Hendersonville was the most popular resort this summer, and it possesses as many attractions and facilities for making itself a permanent name for a summer resort as any we have seen. It is a very convenient distance from the many places of interest among the mountains. The view from Stony Mouutain, four and a half miles, is very fine, and the view from Mount Hebron is perfectly entrancing. A full view of the French Broad and the surrounding mountains is truly grand?sublime in the extreme?the most beautiful picture the eye ever beheld in the whole book of Nature. The afternoon we drove to Mount Hebron, we drove to the top. Following the circuitous windings of Mr. Jones' pleasure drive, we beheld to our delightful surprise, the Brat and only 6teamer that over plied the waters of the lovelv French Broad. She moved slowly up the river on her trial trip. We must confess that we were somewhat disappointed in the French Broad ; for in our imagination we had pictured a broad, majestic stream, while to the contrary, it is narrow, crooked and rugged, though picturesque. Congress will have to appropriate many thousands more before the French Broad can be made sufficently navigable to promote the commercial iuterests of the section through which it runs. n. The steamer, ''Mountain Lily," is a private enterprise, belonging to a joint stock company. We had the pleasure of meeting the president, Mr. Pickens. He showed us over the boat. He seems quite hopeful that it can be made successful. The mountaineers visit this little boat by scores and gaze upon it as the greatest wonder of the age. It is certainly a novel sight to see a steamboat riding upon the waters of such a stream among the mountains. The "Mountain Lily," is a very light boat, drawing only thirteen inches, with a carrying capacity of one ton to the inch. She is propelled by two side wheels, driven by two engines of eighteen horse power each. Since the trial trip, the company has concluded that she has not power enough and has decided to put in two larger engines. As a I means of transportation, it will be a great | convenience to the people of that section. We have made a casual allusion to the "Globe," the place where we took up our abode during our stay among the mountains. We met there, youth, beauty and old age, wealth, worth and intelligence among the ! lnrtirprs As Renin] heincrs we were most nat i urally drawn towards each other. We did not stand upon conventionalites, formalities, j or strict etiquette, according to the rules as j adopted in the high social circles of the day ; j but we mingled together, enjoying each i others' society, reaping the mutual benefits to j be derived by such an intercourse; by each I j others' expression and observations. Thus J j the pleasure of our stay was greatly en- ! ! hanced. We had gay, dashing, gushing i young widows, peculiarly fascinating and at-! ' tractive, whose attractions were never lost j i nor allowed to waste their sweetness upon the j mountain air ; young ladies of lovely charac j ter, face and feature?one with a dark, co-' | quetish eye; another with eyes blue, affection- ; I ate and glad, that seemed to love every thing j ; they looked upon. There was walking, dancing riding and flirting, as usual. Says the indignant Kinj ston Freeman : "Abolish flirting at summer 1 resorts, and at once the saints from Ocean Grove and Chautauqua, and the sinners from : Coney Island, Saratoga and the C'atskills, . would fly home, as from the breath of a pestilence. Expunge that usage from our social ! statute book and the whole fabric of society would be subverted and social anarchy would I ensue. Strike down this priceless privilege of every free born man and woman and i the faintest blossom of pleasure is withered." I i Our company was also made up wilh a j plentiful supply of children. There were children?I was tempted to say by thousi amis?but they were there in such numbers ! i that really we sometimes could not rest, and , i we were often led to exclaim : "Is there no place on earth, no hole in the ground, j Where hoops ami children are not found?" But bless the sweet little innocents, what; would life be without the darlings? Thus time passed unheeded. Some new : ; pleasure each day kept down ennui. New i i places, new faces, were enjoyed, and relieved ; even the slightest approach of monotony in j the ceaseless rounds of gayety. j It was our pleasure to meet many of the I most agreeable and highly accomplished la| dies and gentlemen from Augusta, OharlesI ton, Wilmington and other places of less size and note, and we are happy to acknowledge this month spent among the mountains "as another link in memory's chain," and a halo of sweet memories will ever encircle our path. With no small degree of reluctance and regret did we bid adieu to such a pleasant place and people. Jickey Brick. THE NEW PRESIDENT. Features of the Life of Chester Allan Arthur. Chester A. Arthur is the son of a clergyman. His father, William Arthur, was a Protestant Irishman, a native of Ballymena, County Antrim, Ireland, who came to this country fresh from graduation at Belfast College and entered the ministry of the Baptist denomination. As a preacher he was successful, and iu authorship he made some mark. He died at Newtonville, near Albany, N. Y., October 27, 1875. From 1855 to 1863 he was pastor of the Calvary Baptist Church in New York City, and at other times filled pulpits at Bennington, Hinesburg, Fairfield and Williston, in Vermont, and York, Perry, OfAanwinK Qnliononlarlo T .uncinrrhn PfT H nn. " ,v"'l ?."6?pi ? sic, West Troy, and Newtonville, in New York. His wife, Malviua Stone, bore him two sons and five daughters, and the eldest of these children, Chester Allan Arthur, now becomes President of the United States. The date of his birth was October 5, 1830, and the placeof his nativity was Fairfield, Franklin county, Vermont. Young Arthur's first tutor was his father, but in the public schools of Schenectady he was prepared for entering Union College, where he was matriculated at the age of 15. In college he was an industrious student, took high rank in his classes, and was an active member of the Psi Upsilon Society. Meanwhile he eked out his funds by teaching a country school and boarding around. In 1848 he was graduated with high rank, and forthwith began the study of law at Ballston Springs. After two years at the law school, he resumed teaching by way of getting a little money ahead, and accepted the place of Principal of the North Powual Academy in Bennington county, Vermont. This was in 1851. By rigid economy and hard work he bad managed to save five hundred dollars, and with this in his pocket he went to New York, and entered the law office of Erastus D. Culver, afterward Minister to one of the South American States, and a Judge of the Civil Court of .Brooklyn. Boon after entering Judge Culver's office he was, in 1852, admitted to the bar, and entered the firm of Culver, Partsen & Arthur, which was dissolved in 1857. Later he formed a partnership with an old friend, Henry D. Gardner, with an intention of practicing in the West, and for three months these young gentlemen roamed through the Western States in search of a place to locate. In the end, not satisfied, they returned to New York and began a practice, successful almost from the start, and which lasted ten years, till 1865, when Mr. Arthur continued alone. Mr. Arthur, soon after being called to the bar, married a daughter of Lieutenant Herndon, of Central American fame, who died in January, 1879, leaving two children, a son of 14 and a daughter of 8. AN ADVOCATE OF HUMAN RIGHTS. The law career of Mr. Arthur includes some uotable cases. One of his first cases was the celebrated Leinmon suit. In 1852 Jonathan and Juliet Lemraon, Virginia slaveholders, intending to emigrate to Texas, went to New York to await the sailing of a steamer, bringing eight slaves with them. A writ of habeas corpus was obtained from Judge Paine to test the question whether the provisions of the Fugitive Slave Law were in force in that State. Judge Paine rendered a decision, holding that they were not, and ordering the Lemmon slaves to be liberated. Henry L. Clinton was one of the counsel for the slaveholders. A howl of rage went up from the South, and the Virginia Legislature authorized the Attorney General of that State to assist in taking an appeal. William M. Ev * * ? .i t J i I arts ana unester a. Artnur were empioyea 10 represent the people, and they won their case, which then went to the Supreme Court of the United States. Charles O'Connor here espoused the cause of the slaveholders, but he, too, was beaten by Messrs. Evartsand Arthur, and a long step was thus taken toward the emancipation of the black race. Even as late as 1856 colored people were not permitted to ride on the Fourth-avenue street curs. Lizzie Jennings, a colored woman of excellent character, superintendent of a Sunday school, was roughly expelled from a Fourth-avenue car because she was black. She brought a suit against the railroad company, and applied to Mr. Arthur for advice. He accepted charge of the case, and managed it before Judge Rockwell, in a Brooklyn court. The jury gave a verdict of 3500 damages in favor of the colored woman. The 8500 was paid by the railroad company, and the next day the company issued an order to permit co.'ored persons to ride on their cars, and the other car companies quickly followed their example. Before that the Sixth-avenue Company ran a few special cars for colored persons, and the other lines refused to let them ride at all. his war services. At the outbreak of the war, E. D. Morgan was elected Governor of New York, and in making up his staff, he appointed Mr. Arthur Engineer-in-chief. He had just before this held the position of Judge Advocate of the 2nd Brigade, State Militia. He was, a little later, appointed Inspector-General, and soon after?January 27, 1862?was advanced to the very important post of QuartermasterGeneral, which be held until the expiration of Mr. Morgan's term of office. In these offices he did yeoman's service for the government in the equipment of volunteers. Of his services then a friend wrote : "No higher encomium can be passed upon him than the mention of the fact that, although the war account of the State of NewYork was at least ten times larger than that of any other State, yet it was the first audited and allowed in Washington, and without the deduction of a single dollar, while the quartermasters' accounts from other States were reduced from one to ten millions of dollars. During his incumbency, every present sent to him was immediately returned. Among others, a prominent clothing house offered him a magnificent uniform and a priuting house ' proffered a costly saddle and trappings. Both | gifts were indignantly rejected. When he be-j came quartermaster he was poor. When his j torm pvniiwl hp ivns nnnrer still. He had od- i "V"M * i ' # i portunities to make millions unquestioned. j Contracts larger than the world had ever seen were at his disposal. He had to provide for ; the clothing, arming and transportation of hundreds of thousands of men. So zealous was he in his integrity, that I have known instances where he could have made thousands of dollars legitimately, and yet he refused to do it, on the ground that he wus a public offi- j cer and meant to be like Ciesar's wife?above j suspicion. His own words in regard to this amply illustrates his character: 'If I misap- j propriated a cent, aud in walking down town J saw two men talking on the corner together, j I would imagine that they were talking of my j dishonesty, and the very thought would drive j me mad.'" In July, 1862, he was invited to he present at a secret meeting of the loyal Governors, held in New York for discussing measures to provide troops for carrying on the war. He was the only person present who was not a Governor. In the same year he was on duty on the staff of Major General Hunt, in the Army of the Potomac, as inspector of New York troops in the 6eld. At the expiration of Governor Morgan's terra he returned to his law practice, and business of the most lucrative character poured in. Much of this work consisted in the collection of war claims and the drafting of important bills for speedy legislation. In consequence, a great deal of his time was spent at Albany and Washington, i where his uniform success won him a national [ reputation. For a short time he held the po! sition of counsel to the Board of Tax Comi missioned at a salary of 810,000 per annum. : In 1871, he formed a partnership with Mr. Ransom, and later with Mr. Phelps, the presj ent Distrk Attorney of New York City, and i he is now the senior member of the firm of Arthur, Phelps, Kuevals & Ransom. THE MAN. Personally General Arthur is a man of great culture, wide experience and remarkable geniality. He is over six feet high, of full habit and fair complexion. His face is clean shaven except for thin gray side whiskers. There is nothing about him of the politician, as so many have been led to suppose. He does not talk in offensive accents ; his voice is low and gentlemanly. He dresses in perfect good taste?at present entirely in black. Of his home in New Yo-ik it is written: There is little in Lexington Avenue to distinguish one block from another. No. 123 is just one of the dozen in its own particular block near Sixteenth street. Here Chester A. Arthur lives. Inside the house is exactly what was to be expected. It is a house in which gold and white were selected for the drawing room. At present all the beauties of furnishing are beneath the homely ban of furniture covers. The gilt gasoliers are swathed in mosqnito-net; so are the pictures. Enough of these can, however, b$ seen to testify that the dweller here is a man of correct taste. The cattle pieces are all better than Verbockhoven ever drew; the quaint bit of still life beside the mantle, looks to be, from where you sit, a genuine Teneirs. Its companion is, perhaps, an Ostade. Upon the low book-cases, that contain some handsome volumes, are some excellent bronzes?one a spirited group just over your host's shoulder, looks to be Russian handiwork. It certainly is a (Jossack horse. General Arthur has undoubtedly been a traveler in his fancies, and yet he is a man who cares for cushions and comfort. His parlor has 110 stiff furniture. The tete atete is a very easy one, the armchairs are generous in proportion and generous in stuffing. Near the fire-place a handsome silk screen shows a monogram in rainbow-colored silk, the work of deft fingers. But it is impossible to take a mental inventory and participate in your host's conversation. Turn your attention to him rather than his. HIS POLITICAL CAREER. General Arthur's political career began early?at 14 years of age?as a champion of the Whig party. He was a delegate to the Saratoga Convention that founded the Republican party in New York Stale, and was henceforward actice in local and State politics. It was not long before he was a leading spirit in the party and when Hon. Thomas Murphy resigned the Collectorship of the Port of New York, in 1871, President Grant nominated him to the vacancy. The nomination surprised no one so much as its recipient. It had been previously offered to John A. Griswold and William Ortou, both of whom declined and recommended Gen. Arthur. He was appointed November 20. Upon the expiration of his four years' term he had so acceptably filled the post that he was reappointed and unanimously confirmed by the Senate without the usual reference to a committee, a compliment usually reserved for ex-Senators. He was removed by President Hayes on July 12,1878, despite the fact that two special committees made searching investigation into his administration, and both reported themselves unable to find anything upon which to base a charge against him. In announcing the change both President Hayes and Secretary Sherman bore official witness to the purity of bis acts while ft office. A petition for his retention was signed by every Judge o( every Court in the city, by all the prominent members of the bar, and by nearly every important merchant in the collection district, but this General Arthur himoolf cmnnrpcopr) r* In a letter to Secretary Sherman, reviewing the work of one of the investigating committees, General Arthur produced statistics to show that during his term of over six years in office the percentage of removals was ODly two and three-quarters, against an annual average of about twenty-eight per cent, under hia three immediate predecessors, and an annual average of about twenty-four per cent, since 1857. Of the nine hundred and twenty-three persons in office prior to his appointment, five hundred and thirty one were still retained on May 1, 1877. All appointments except two to the one hundred positions commanding salaries of 82,000 per year were made on the plan of advancing men from the lower to the higher grades on the recommendation of beads of bureaus. The reforms which General Arthur instituted in the meth- 1 ods of doing business in the Custom House ' were as numerous as they were grateful to the | mercantile community. After his removal he was engaged in the practice of the law, and 1 in the direction of Republican politics in the 1 State, being Chairman of the Kepublican ' State Committee, and contributed greatly, by successful management, to the success of the Republican ticket. i NOMINATED FOR THE VICE PRESIDENCY. General Arthur was nominated at Chicago for Vice President, at the evening session of the Convention, on Tuesday, June 10. The Convention met without pl?r in regard to i1 completing the ticket. Nobody cared for delay, and the roll was promptly called for j nominations for Vice-President. California presented E. B. Washburne; Connecticut s brought out ex Governor Jewell ; Florida < handed in the name of Judge Settle ; Tennes- s see urged Horace Maynard. But these at- j tracted little attention. Then ex-Lieutenaut i Governor Woodford rose in the New York delegation, and standing upon his seat, and ( after a brief reference to the loyal support s which New York had given to General Grant, 1 said that New York could not be behind any I in support of the candidate nominated to-day, t and he presented the name of General C. A. t Arthur for the second place on the ticket. The nomination was received with a good , deal of applause in the New York delegation. t It was seconded by Governor Dennison of t Ohio, and immediately supported by a speech , from Storrs, of Illinois, in behalf of Arthur, ( and a suggestion from Filley, of Missouri, i that the nomination be made by acclamation. It was apparent to every one what had been , going on during the recess?Arthur had be- j come New York's choice for Vice President, j' and the Ohio men, with the help of the Old : Guard of the Grant hosts, had arranged to 1 1 put him through. As a general thing, the i crowd had very little interest for another can- ' didate. They were impatient for a ballot and 1 hooted at succeeding speakers. Hicks of Florida finally withdrew Settle's name and i was followed by Cessna of Pennsylvania, who ' said that the great Keystone State seconded Arthur's nomination. A ballot was finally reached. Its result was so generally foreseen that no particular concern was manifested over it. There was some cheering, but the enthusiasm of this extraordinary Convention had about worn ont. The ballot stood : Arthur, 468 ; Washburne, 19; Maynard, 30; ! Jewell, 44 ; Bruce, 8 ; Woodford, 1 ; Davis, 2. The nomination of Arthur was made ! unanimous, on motion of California, and then a committee of one from each State, with Senator Hoar for Chairman, was appointed to notify the candidates of their nomination. Filley, of Missouri, then got in amotion to adjourn sine die, which was carried. Elected with General Garfield, General Arthur took the oath of office ori the 4tli of Vf r? maK laof an/) maa inofollorl QQ Prp<jj. mat V/ii iaot| tuiu nuo inobanvu uv ? .?v. dent of tbe Senate. During the trying dayu of the long dead-lock he presided over the Senate with a decisive firmness and calm, graceful dignity which commanded the respect of both parties. In these later days, when the country has been bowed in sorrow, General Arthur's quiet, dignified and sympathetic bearing has been the subject of the most gratified remark. Except when he went to Washington to express in person his condolence, he has remained at his home in New York, hoping with the rest of his countrymen for the recovery of the President. As showing the tender feeling and courtly gallantry of the new President, the scene in the White House when General Arthur called to condole with Mrs. Garfield may be recalled. The Vice President advanced to meet the wife of the wounded President, took her. extended hand in his, pressed it to his lips, and in tones that went to her heart assured her of his sympathy, and suddenly, as though overcome by the 8adnessof the situation, exclaimed : "God knows, madam, I do not wish to be President!" m ? ECHOES OF THE NATION'S SORROW. ? The burial lot presented to Mis. Garfield by the directors of the Lake View Cemetery, Cleveland, is the one for which $10,000 has been repeatedly offered and refused. The Directors decided not to sell it, under a vague impression that it would some day be needed for a great occasion?perhaps as the site of a grand Masonic Monument. The cemetery is one of the most beatiful in the United States, combining exquisite natural scenery with all that landscape gardening and art could do for it, and overlooking the broad expanse of Lake Erie. The lot given is by all considered the most desirable within its bounds. ? The bullet which was cut from President Garfield's body at the autopsy was given into the hands of Dr. Bliss, who immediately handed it over to the custody of Private Secretary Brown. Mr. Brown carefully wrapped up the ball and Bealed the package, and will preserve it till such time as it may be needed in the evidence in the trial of Guiteau. The fractured vertebra, which was taken froijo the President's body, is in the hands of scientific gentlemen, who are cleansing and preparing it, after which it will be placed on exhibition in the National Museum in Washington city. ? Queen Victoria, directed the British Minister to have prepared and presented in her name, a suitable floral tribute to be placed on the casket containing the-President's remains. The wreath was very large, and is an exquisite specimen of the florist's art, composed of wime roses, sraiiaz ana stepharatis. It is accompanied by a mourning card bearing the following: "Queen Victoria, to the memory of the late President Garfield?an expression of her sorrow and sympathy with Mrs. Garfield and the American Nation, September 21,1881." ? The Nashville American remarks as a peculiar phenomenon, that Gen. Garfield's assassination is the first event which has called forth from the women of the South a wide and profound sympathy. This, it thinks, is a sign of restoration worth all the rest, and also a fact highly creditable to the man who could inspire Southern feminine instincts, long dead, to the beat of any national chord, or for the North any sympathetic chord, with such a feeling. ? The New York Herald editorially states that the President probably received as careful and effective norsiDg as medical skill could suggest; but it nevertheless appears that had not the case been improperly diagnosed at first, had not professional courtesy caused distinguished surgeons, called for consultation, to accept the diagnosis already made, and had the bullet been extra ted at any time during the first three weeks, I resident Garfield would, in ail probability, been alive to-day. ? A medical man who heard the report read said that the treatment of the President^y the surgeons was condemned by their own report, and that the diagnosis of the case made at the time of the shooting was now proved * i* 1 -a. &? 1a. rv tt to 08 WDouy wrong ana ai jauiu urv. xiaiuikon and Bliss expected to find the ball where they had insisted for a month it was?in the front part of the right groin?but the autopsy disclosed its presence in another part of the body. ? A Washington dispatch says that telegrams from all parts of the country show that during the funeral ceremonies in that city over the body of the late President Garfield, there were marks of respect to the occasion 3hown everywhere by the suspension of business,, tolling of bells and holding of religious services. ? Dispatches have aleo been received in Washington from all parts of Europe, announcing meetings and the passage of resolutions of sorrow and sympathy for the family of President Garfield ; also, that' business was suspended and religious services held in various portions of Europe, as well as in the United States and Canada. ? The mother of the martyred President passed her 80th birthday a week ago last Thursday in seclusion and sadness. Though she bears up better than might have been jxpected, she feels that with the death of her ion her work of life is ended, and her sole aspiration now is to be soon reunited with him n the world above. ? Dr. Hammond thinks the President died jf embolism of the heart. He takes care to itate that he lost hope on the 23rd of July ; iad little hope after the first forty-eight lours, because the bullet had not been loca;ed and no operation made to extract it while ;he President was strong. ? Uartield was a sensitive, impulsive, poetic nan, easily annoyed by the cares and impor;unii;ies of the Presidency. Arthur is of a ;ougher fibre, more stolid, and better used to ;he assaults of the political rabble. He no loubt incarnates the New York money power ind ought to be, therefore, conservative. ? President Arthur will not move into the White House for some months, but will occupy the residence of Senator Jones, of Nevada. In the meantime the White House will be thoroughly overhauled. ? Mr. Garfield was born and died upon the sarao day of the month, which was also the anniversary of the battle of Chickamauga. ? Secretary 13rown estimates that the President's sickness will cost $250,000. Congress will pay it.