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C* . . -? - *. .-> * ? lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Jniicjjcntient Jfamilji l^tctBspaptr: |for t|je promotion of % political, Social, ^griraltnral anb Commercial Interests of l|e Sootjj. TERMS--I2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOI,. 28. YORKYILLE, S. C., THTJBSDAY, MARCH 16, 1882. NO, 11, Original foftrg. Written for the Yorkville Knquirer. A DAY DREAM. BY ORION. Once I sat musing by a flowing stream, Where bright bubbles rose and floated fast, All tinged o'er with gold by the sun's bright gleam That down from heaven on them was cast. On, on they sped, dancing along so bright, All befitting well the gorgeous scene, As they moved along 'neath meridian light, Each robed in gold and a purple sheen. Around me there the richest flowers bloom'd, E'er breathing their sweetness on the air, And the whole vale with fragraut beauty crowned, Delightful, as it was rich and rare. And then around me gentle zephyrs blew And toyed with the flowers they each caressed, Nor quit they their wooingtill they had drew A feast from every one they had pressed. There, too, I heard a sweet and plaintive voice, That greeted mine ears so pleasantly, It made my weary inmost squI rejoice, While I was drinking in its melody; Till, full of joy, my heart forgot its woe, So charming was the bright, dazzling scene, When, rising from the trance homeward to go, I waked and found all was but a dream. And oh, how of:, since that enchanting spell, Bubbles and flowers have I seen most rare, And heard as many voices as sweetly swell Upon a pure, rich and fragrant air; But reason whispered to me, Let them passStrive you not for honor, wealth or fame? Or you may find, too late, alas ! alas ! They are all but phantoms of the brain. Qk Mr /Atftrtfttfttft Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. BY HERBERT JOHNSON. CHAPTER XV. The marriage being once decided upon, there seemed to be no reason why it should not take place at an early day. The preparations which Sophy would have to make were but few and I simple. They could not take long, and Mr. Erskine was naturally anxious to hasten the time when he should have a right to do for his newly-won treasure all that his fond heart dictated. He behaved beautifully, however ; refrained from urging her into unwelcome haste, and left all arrangements to her decision. On the other hand, she left them to the decision of her mother, who was quite on Mr. Erskine's side. She had fully made up her mind that she would, in all things, endeavor to please hi&. If she could not give him the affection he deserved, she could at least gratify him by showing her anxiety to yield in all other resects to his will. So the wedding was fixed for the thirtieth day of October, which would be just a month after the anniversary of poor Harry's birthday. This birthday she had hitherto kept religiously, since Harry's departure from home?the first year, with some tears over this absence, and visits to all their favorite haunts, where they had spent many happy hours together, and where it seemed to her she could recall his presence with peculiar vividness. The next year, she kid passed the day in bitter mourning and weeping, shutting herself in her own chamber, reading over all of his letters, and lingering over the few dear mementoes he had left her; his picture, the lock of hair, and some other trifles, which, though the sight of them filled her with such exquisite pain, were the greatest treasures she possessed. But on this anniversary she told herself that it was ner uuiy to act ainerenuy. one must try auu put aside these foiul memories, these links that bound her all too firmly to the cherished past. She could not destroy his letters, or a single relic that served as a reminder of his love. Once she had almost made up her mind to do so ; but her heart rebelled at the suggestion. It seemed as though it would be needless cruelty to herself to insist upon the sacrifice; perhaps at some future day she would find strength to accomplish it. She put them all together, however, without lingering to examine them, secured them in a package, and locked them up iii a little chest, which she seldom had occasion to open. "It is no crime to keep them there," she thought; "even Mr. Erskine would not mind it, I am sure ; he is so good and kind." The days sped by. Already October was far advanced. Mr. Erskine, in a quiet way, had made many little preparations for his bride, in the home which was to be hers, which she was ignorant of. Dainty appointments, of furniture, and pictures, and some rare china, to say nothing of a magnificent silver set to adorn their breakfast table. As to the rooms appointed for her especial use, it would be hard to describe the flutter of tender joy with which he superintended their arrangement, looking forward to the time when her presence would adorn them, and striving with thoughtful care, to omit no trifling detail Avhich could ensure her comfort or gratify her taste. The little sitting-room, adjoining her chamber, was a miracle of beauty, with its Persian rug, its curtains of azure silk and delicate lace, its dainty work-stand, its writing-table of rosewood, its one exquisite painting of Raphael's "Madonna della Sedia" over the mantelpiece, and the little library stocked with choice books, of the sort she loved best. Here, surrouuded by so many evidences of his carefulness to provide for her gratification, she would be reminded of the love which bad suggested them, and l?erhaps, by degrees, learn to think more tenderly of him, Her gratitude he did not want. That only gave him pain ; but he hungered? O, how intensely !?for her love. Would that blessing ever be his ? He could not tell. lie could only wait, and hope, and pray. He had earnestly begged Mrs. May to make her home in future beneath his roof; but while thanking him gratefully for the invitation, she postponed its acceptance, preferring for the present to remain where she was. The distance between the two houses was so short that she knew she could see Sophy every day. Not only would the latter pay her frequent visits, but she herself, being much stronger than formerly, could now find pleasure in the little walk to Mr. Erskine's, as the hill was by 110' means steep. The truth was, she was too greatly attached to her own home to be able to make up her miud to leave it ; though, to soothe Sophy's disappointment, she promised to stay with them during a part of the winter, when the cold and rainy weather might otherwise prove an interruption to their intercourse. About the twenty-first of the month, Caj>tain Russell found himself, most unexi>ectedly, obliged to leave home 011 some business which required his immediate presence in New York. He did not expect to be absent longer than a week at farthest, and so would return in time for the wedding. During these days of preparation, Sophy was calm, even cheerful in her demeanor. She busied herself in every conceivable way, so that her mind should not, for any lack of occupation, fix itself upon dangerous subjects. She smiled upon Mr. Erskine when he spoke to her; though he felt, sorrowfully, that it was not her old bright smile?and never | avoided Ids companionship, even when she ! felt most inclined to be alone. She flitted | over her mother's house, putting everything I in the nicest order, and giving many minute directions to their one old servant, Jane, so that Mrs. May should have as little trouble as possible after she was gone. She centered her thoughts steadily on the present and future. She was about to turn over a new, unwritten leaf in the book of her life, and all its former l?ges should be closed and sealed. She must have no retrospects?none, at least, that could interfere with her peace or tliat of the one to whom henceforth her duty and obedience would be owed. She dwelt much on the consideration of his goodness, his noble qualities, his lofty, generous heart; all these touched and warmed her. She could respond fully to them, though not, alas ! to his love. The thought ol! that only gave her pain. The twenty-ninth of October came?the eve i of her wedding-day. i Captain Russell was expected home, either ? this evening or early on the following morn- ] ing. She wondered that he had not arrived, i +v. ? 1,11/1 ln/i1ro/l fm/nrnrrl In )iic ToflimintT I lUi blicy J IUU iUVAC-U JLVl TV (?l U uv sooner. But he had sent her a brief note, stating that at the latest lie would be back by ten o'clock on Wednesday (the thirtieth.) The wedding was to be at eleven. She occupied herself in getting the cottage ready for him ; arranged his sleeping room, putting some late flowers both there, and in the little parlor, to give the place a cheerful air, and to let him see that he was expected and welcome whenever he should come ; dusting the books and pictures, and the nautical instruments which lie always kept, in lieu of other ornaments, over his chimney-place, and tying up with fresh ribbon the white curtain that draped the windows. Moreover she laid on his table a book, which she had got Mr. Erskine to procure for her as a sort of patting gift to her old friend ; though, indeed, the parting was to be rather between herself and her old life, than between her and any of her friends. All this done, she returned home, to pass the remainder of the day with her mother. Mrs. May was looking brighter and better than she had, at one time, ever hoped to see her again. Surely, thought Sophy, as she noted the change with a grateful heart, it was worth a sacrifice to gladden the spirits of this dear parent, and restore her as she had doubtless been instrumental in doing, to health. She well knew that not even her mother fully understood or appreciated the depth of those feelings which had so long restrained her from yielding to the wishes of all around her. In | urging her compliance, they had believed they [ were acting for her welfare. They thought, i perhaps, that they knew her better than she ; knew herself. "See what Mr. Erskine has sent," said Mm. I May, pointing to the package that Jay on the I table. "He would not bring it himself, thinking you might uot care to see him at this hour, but sent a little note with it instead." "Who brought it V" "MrsPerry. She was very communicative," said Mrs. May, with a smile, "and gave me OAmn AAnoAiminnf wbof liUO Imon (YAl'tlfV i OU1IIO liiiiio 11 iitiu iuko i/V'Vii ^ving j j on lately at Mr. Erskine's, which perhaps he ! f would have suppressed if he could. At all events, he intends it as a surprise for you, j so I shall not repeat what she said." ] - Without any comment, Sophy opened the ; little note. It ran thus? i I hope you will gratify me by wearing the ] accompanying sett to-morrow. I chose the i simplest pattern I could find, fearing you i might otherwise consider it an inappropriate < ornament for so quiet an occasion." She unwrapped the package. Within the , paper was a morocco case, which, on being , opened, displayed, lying on the blue satin j lining, the most exquisite pearl necklace and ; ear-drops sne had ever seen. "How chaste !" exclaimed Mrs. May, as ] she saw them. "Surely there can be nothing 1 inappropriate, my dear, in your wearing them with your vhite dress." i "Oh no," said Sophy, calmly. "I shall wear j them of course." ] "They are beautiful, are they not V" "Very. 1 never saw anything like them." ; And with this comment, she closed the box i and put it aside. She could not be enthusias- . tic over the gift. Indeed, it troubled her to think that he had gone to so much expense on her account; for though she had only an irn- , l>erfect idea of its actual value, she was well . aware that it must have cost no small sum. It was, however, his first expensive present ] since their engagement. He had shown his delicacy, in refraining from heaping offerings upon her, which might oppress her with a painful sense of the contrast between his circumstances and hers, reminding her of the wealth which he was always so careful not to display. He came over that evening, and sat with , her mother and herself for an hour, chatting, in his usuai pleasant way, of different things. No allusion was made to the following day. It did not seem as if this was really a wedding-eve. "It's a little strange that the Captain has not yet returned, isn't it V" he asked, as he , rose to go. "We thought he would have been back before this: but you know he wrote word that he might not be here before to-morrow morning, so I am not uneasy." "Oh no, I don't think there is any cause for uneasiness, particularly as he was quite well when you heard." He led Sophy out to the frontdoor, and they stood there for a moment, looking at the moonlit garden, and shimmering line of water in the distance. "It is a beautiful night," said Sophy. "Beautiful; unusually mild, too, for the season. I am glad it is such lovely weather. My love," he added, his voice sinking to a lower tone, "I hope the calm, peaceful night is a happy augury for your future. I need 110 augury for mine!" She was silent. She longed, more than he knew, to be able to respond to his feeling for her; she felt herself so ungrateful, so cold ! "Sophy," he pleaded, "will you give me just one kiss?" It was the first time he had ever made this request. Ilis caresses, such as they were, had always been bestowed without seeking a return ; and even these had been few and quiet, usually limited to a pressure of his lips upon her cheek or hand. But now, ;ts he stood looking down upon her, the yearning for some evidence of her affection was too strong to be resisted. He bent his face near her, clasping her hand to his breast, his whole soul shining in his eyes. "Just one," he whisjiered, passionately; "just one!" Without a word, she lifted up her face and kissed him. She never ceased, through her whole life afterwards, to be thankful that she had done so. lie held her, for an instant, to his heart. She felt its strong, tempestuous throbbing, the upheaval of a sea of emotion too deep to find utterance in words. She realized his mighty love, as she had never done before; and still the question arose within her, "Why is all this wasted where it can never find return ?" When he had left her. she went in ynd help ed her mother, sis she always did, with her preparations for retiring to rest; and having done so, returned, impelled by an unusal impulse, to the garden. It was, indeed a singularly lovely night. The moon was nearly at its full; calm as a dream of Heaven it slept on the sleeping flowers, and touched with its radiance the quivering waters of the bsiy. So clear, so effulgent, was the light, that she could plainly discern the sails of a little boat coasting along the shore, and even trace the outline of its form as it approached the landing. Some fishing-boat probably, whose owner had been tempted by the beauty of the evening to reman out later than was his wont; or, perhaps, it might be bringing back some of the village people from an expedition to a little settlement across the bay, which held frequent intercourse with theirs. She watched its motions with a vague feeling cao nrlinn if cf ATIT1P/1 ujl UltClCaU) aiiu tuiuu it 11vu aw uvv^vm and its occupants sprang out on the beach. One, two?only two men ; one of these quickly lost himself to sight in the shadow of an nverhanging cliff, nearer inland; the other, after busying himself a few moments with the fastening of the boat, and some adjustment of the sail, which he left unfurled, also walked away, and disappeared from view. "That man must be going off again, otherwise he would have taken down his sail," thought Sophy; and then her thoughts turned to some other subject, and did not revert to the boat or its occupant again. In the mean time, Mr. Erskine, instead of ?oing directly home, had walked down towards the beach. He, too, found it impossible as yet to seek repose. That kiss of his betrothed 3till lingered on his lips, thrilling him with a new, delicious joy. His heart was still beating with the delight of that moment, brief as it had been, when, for the first time, he had seemed to feel all his own. "Was it possible that for his love a brighter day was dawning ; that hers, at last, was being awakened to yield it a return V Dreams of the future they were to share together thronged over him, intoxica1 * -- 1 -? ?~ /\f *\ramion Ding mm Willi me Ullgiitliroaui. men j/iuiiiioc. His soul expanded, exulted within him ; he trod as if 011 air ; all his doubts, all shadows of fear, had vanished from his mind. Suddenly, in the path he was treading, he perceived a figure before him, rapidly ascending the cliff. It was the same person whom Sophy had seen leave the boat first ; a young man in a sailor dress, with a waterproof cloak lung carelessly over his shoulder. He bounded, rather than ran, with long springing steps up the acclivity. Haste, eagerness, were displayed in his impetuous movements. Why did Mr. Erskine's pulse stand still, as this swiftly-advancing figure came before him? Why did his heart, a moment before bounding liigli with hope and anticipation, suddenly sink down like lead, as though its warm throbs iiad been stilled by the pressure of an ice-cold nand ? Even before a closer opportunity of discovering the identity of the new-comer was granted him, something whispered to him who it was, that Fate had sent to blight his fairest, fondest holies. The mighty sea had given up its prey ; the dead, or he who was supposed to be 30, was come back to the living world again ! "Oh, God of mercy, sustain me!" broke, in i stifled groan, from his lips. Jlisbrain reeled; :ie clutched at a neighboring tree for support, is the ground, for a moment,,seemed to be slipping from beneath his feet. Then his nerves grew steady again, and with a restored realization of his situation, came to the consciousness of the necessity for absolute selfcontrol. "Mr. Erskine! is this you ?" rang out, in a clear, glad voice?the voice he well remembered, though it had only been for a short period familiar to his ear. "Don't you know me ? How are they all ? Is Sophy well ?" "So vou are back?at last." Mr. Erskine managed to utter, with white, faltering lips. The other was too excited, too much occupied with his own feelings to notice anything remarkable in his look or manner. He answered rapidly as he wrung Mr. Erskine's hand, for tie was impatient to press on home? "Yes, I'm back again, sir ; not drowned, as I suppose everybody think?don't they ? I've been shipwrecked, though?cast on a wild island?gqt nearly eaten by cannibals?such adventures as I never expected?would fill a volume ; couldn't write, or anything ; only one other fellow besides me escaped. Is my uncle still here ?" Mr. Erskine could only make a motion with his head. Ilis tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Harry dashed past him, to the top of the cliff, along through the narrow path that led to the cottage door. He burst in?the cottage was empty ; after a rapid survey of the premises, he left as quickly as he had entered, and bent his steps in the same breathless way, toward the house on the hill. Through the old shrubbery he ran. Vaulting over the gate, he found himself in the front garden, where the moonlight beamed, and Sophy stood dreaming among her flowers. [to he continued.] Charming Girls.?If you are fortunate in possessing beauty, my dear girls, be thankful for the gift, but do not overrate it. The girl who expects to win her way by her beauty and to be admired and accepted simply because she is a lady, has the wrong idea. She must secure a lovable character if she wishes to bo loved, and my advice to you all, is to lay the foundation of a permanent influence. To win and hold admiration you must cultivate the gifts that nature has bestowed upon you. If you have a talent for music, develop it; learn to sing some choice songs antl to perform upon some instrument, for many are charmed more by music than by handsome features. Pursue the same course with regard to painting, drawing, and designing, and if you have the power to obtain useful knowledge in any direction do it. I have heard young men in speaking of their lady acquaintances, "Oh ! they look well, but they don't know anything." There is no necessity for such a state of things ; books are cheap and accessible. If you lauor all day in shop or store, still, at odd intervals, you can gather up an education and contend with no greater difficulties than did Clay, Fillmore, "Webster and others of our greatest men. If you go through life like a flitting butterfly, how will you be si>oken of by-andby V I own it is nice to eat, drink and be merry, and be courted and flattered by all your l\?if liati? niurtb l\nff I a nulf a lllUJIUd , Ullt JHJW UJULU urutj t\J LUlll > (liu character, sense, and tine womanliness. The Mormon Women.?Hill Nye recently paid a visit to Salt Lake City, where lie attended the Church of the Latter Day Saints, and in a letter to his paper, respecting these people, he closes as follows : "I thought I had seen homely women before, but to-day was revealed to me a spectacle of Mormon hideousness that will haunt me always. In my opinion polygamy carries its own punishment along with it. It Is sufficient piuiisliment for the men to stay in the house with the warty toads they call their wives, and the women get enough suffering out of living with a husband who deals out his affections in installments and allows his multitudinous wife to herd the progeny. I have said some mean things about the Mormons, but the more I know about them, the more I despise myself for the weak and inefficient way I have attended to this matter. I ought to go to bed now, as the hour is late, but I don't dare to get into bed and turn off the gas, because I know I shall be tortured all night by visions of a crooked-necked old Mormon woman who sat in the seat near me today and ate peanuts.'* fpsttHaneflusi HUadittg. VICTORIA'S ESCAPES. Tliere is certainly no sovereign in Europe who is more worthy of affection and respect than the Queen of England, and there is no country in Europe where there is so little excuse for regicide in the organization and administration of public affairs. Yet scarcely a sovereign of modern Europe?not even the much plotted against Napoleon III?has been so frequently attacked, though it should be added that in but a few instances was her death ! really compassed, and that without exception her assailants were more or less weak-minded. Two years after her accession?May 10, 1839? a mad-man was arrested on the garden-steps of Buckingham Palace who announced his intention of killing her because no Protestant should be suffered to sit on the throne of England. A few days later a lunatic, like those who frequently turn up at our own White House, was caught clamoring over the inclosuresat Windsor to take possession o'f the Castle as rightful Vinnnf VnfflfliiH ar?H rm t.hp. 17t.h nf .Tulv a commercial traveler was sent to prison for two months for persisting in getting in the Queen's way in Hyde Park, blowing kisses to her and smiting his heaving bosom with all the passion professed for the young sovereign by Dickens in a well-known playful letter. On June 11, 1840, a pot-boy of seventeen, Edward Oxford by name, attempted to shoot the Queen and Prince Albert as they were passing in a low carriage by the garden gate opening from Constitution Hill. Oxford fired a pistol directly at the Queen, then drew a second weapon from his breast, and resting it on that he had already discharged, fired it also with deliberate aim before the* bystanders could rush on him. The Queen rose in the carriage, but was pulled down by her husband, but so soon as Oxford had been seeured she stood up again, composed, though very pale, to show that she was unhurt. Oxford, who was calm and collected, admitted his act when taken before* the Privy Council. Powder and shot were found at his lodgings with the rules of the alleged Young English Society, a terrible secret organization whose members were pledged to meet "armed with a brace of pistols and a sword, and with a black cra]>e cap to cover the face." Some of the Irish Catholic papers claimed that Oxford was agent of "Orangeism and Cumberland," employed to bring the Queen's odious uncle, the King of Hanover, to the throne, but as a sensible historian says : "The trial showed that he was the agent of nobody and was impelled by nothing but his own crack-brained love of notoriety." He was brought to trial on the 8th of July, when, we are told, he wore a listless smile, and played with the herbs strewn ip front of the dock, which with the Judge's nosegays are survivals of the good old days of jail fever. The defense showed that Oxford's grandfather and father had been of weak mind and lie was found "not guilty on the ground of insanity," and turned over to an insane asylum for life. Unless we are in error he was released some ten or twelve years ago on condition of his leaving the country. Dr. Samuel Warren, who had an interview with Oxford in iuil /lamp t.r? th*> r?stnr>liiainn that h? wns Tier J"" VV V"~ VW..V.MM.W.. I fectly sane, and Oxford told him "A good horse-whipping was what I wanted." Sir Theodore Martin, in his "Life of the Prince Consort," thinks it would have been well had Oxford been dealt with in the ordinary way, and adds : "The best commentary on the lenity thus shown' was pronounced by Oxford himself on being told of the similar attempts of Francis and Bean, in 1842, when he declared that if he had been hanged there would have been no more shooting at the Queen." The Oxford affair made a great sensation at the time, and the members of Parliament competed furiously for locks of his hair when he underwent the prison crop. On the 2d of December, William Jones, a boy whom the wits dubbed "In-I-go" Jones, because of his pertinacity, was routed out from under a sofa in Buckingham Palace and sent to jail for three months as a rogue and vagabond. He had been concealed in the palace for several days. March 15, 1841, Jones was caught in the palace again, but this time the magistrates induced him to ship on a manof-war. On May 30.1842, John Francis, the son of a machinist at Drury Lane Theatre, a young man who had been out of employment for some months, fired at the Queen as she was driving rapidly down Constitution Hill, and missed her, being promptly seized by a policeman and a soldier. The Queen behaved with her usual calmness and came in for an enthusiastic reception at the opera in the evening. This time the Orangemen had their innings and sent up an address of congratulation on Her Majesty's escape from "Popish machinations." Francis, who 'remained doggedly silent as to his motives was convicted and sentenced to death on the 17th of June by Chief J ustice Tindal. He fainted on hearing the sentence couched in the terrible old terms?dragging on a hurdle, hanging, drawing and quartering?but his sentence was commuted to transportation for life. It is by no means certain that the pistol was loaded, and it is probable that it was Francis who on the night before the attempt was seen by the Queen?so, at least she thought?to present a pistol at the carriage, a circumstance which had prepared her for the events of the 17th. Francis' ambition was that of the mountebank rather than of the assassin. Prince Albert was opposed to carrying out the capital sentence as judical murder, and the Queen, I who shared his views, insisted that the attacks would be continued until the law was changed and a sharp and degrading punishment was substituted for the penalties for higli treason which the offender incurred and coveted. Iler Majesty was right, for on the 3rd of July, a half-witted hunchback, named Bean, snapped a leaded pistol at her as die was passing to the Chapel Royal. I . ,>as punished by eighteen months' imprisonment in Milbank for misdemeanor, and a few days later Peel introduced the "bill for the better protection of the Queen's person against minor offenders," making such attempts punishable "by transportation for seven years, or by imprisonment for a term not exceeding three years, the culprit to be publicly or privately whipped as often and in such manner as the Court shall direct, not exceeding thrice." On May 19, 1849, an Irish bricklayer, named Hamilton, tired a pistol loaded with gun powder at the Queen as she was driving down Constitution Hill. He subsequently pleaded guilty and was sent over seas for seven years. May 27, 1850, as the Queen was passing out of the gate of the Duke of Cambridge's residence in Piccadilly, an ex-Lieutenant of the Tenth Hussars, Robert Pate by name, who thought himself injured by the War Office, struck her ' on the head with a cane, crushing her bonnet j and bruising her cheek. He was seized by a j bystander, and on the 11th of July sentenced | to seven years' transportation, Baron AlderI son omitting the whipping, as he believed the ! man was insane. There was some talk about | a mysterious Fenian plot to abduct and assassinate the Queen during her visit to Switzer| land in 1808, and on the 29th of February, ' 1872, a lad of seventeen, Arthur O'Connor by name, presented a pistol at her as she was entering Buckingham Palace after a drive. The pistol was a harmless weapon, with a broken Hint-lock and nothing in the barrel but a bit of red rag. O'Connor had in the other hand some sort of petition in favor of the Fenian prisoners. On the 11th of April, OlConnor, who had at first pleaded guilty, but whose insanity it was then thought j to establish, was sentenced to one year's im| prisonment and twenty stripes with a birch | rod. Finally, on the 10th of December, 1878, one j Mr. Edward Byrne Madden, a mild and inof! fensive lookimr man of fiftv-six. bv nrofession : an interpreter, was arrested for threats to kill J the Queen, made in letters to the Home I Oflice and Lord' Lyons. Madden had been twice in a lunatic asylum and was undeniably crazy. lie had made similar threats in France, Austria and Belgium and had expressed a desire to be Andrew Johnson's Booth when the President was at war with the ltepublicau leaders. On the 13th of January, 1879, he was arraigned, and his insanity being clearly proven, was ordered to be detained during her Majesty's pleasure. THE DEAD. How few there are (as lias been remarked by a forcible and impressive writer) who read the ordinary list of deaths who know any thing of the depth of human feeling, or the intensity of human suffering, which is recorded in the simple and brief notices which we read with so much carelessness and so coldly in the newspapers. Finding no familiar name to arrest attention, or awaken sympathy, we think no more of the matter, for what care we for the long midnight vigils of watchful, affectionate friendship?the weary, aching head?the afflicted, desponding heart V We do not feel the pain the languishing sufferer has experienced, and we know nothing of the agony which exhausted his frame and wore out his weary nature ; nor care we for the spirit which lias fled its frail tenement, and uttered its last., final, gasping farewell. We know nothing of the heartbreaking anguish which is felt, or the hot burning tears which gush out, in the agony of severed friendship, from bosoms swollen and bursting with an excess of passionate grief. We know nothing of the bitterness of parting, of the strength of affections which have been torn asunder, of the hopelessness of the first " ' * ' i % . 5 il. _JJ^ 1? nooa 01 tears, or tne uepm 01 protrueieu Building, cr of the intensity of the afflictions which real friends have been called upon to suffer and endure. It is a melancholy though instructive consideration, that the tendency of every thing is to decay ; that the happiest prospects and brightest visions of future bliss are but delusive fancies, which become extinguished when they shine out most vividly, and give the strongest evidence of permanent duration. "Hopes which were angels in their birth," become, from their . timacy and close connection with human frailty and decay, but things of earth ; and thus it is, that those dear objects upon which we have lavished most flattering hopes of future happiness and bliss are couscious of the palsying illness which quenched the spirit and laid them low. "We grieve that they are taken from us so suddenly?that they could not have been spared a little longer ; then we could have appreciated their worth, returned their manifold kindnesses, and gradually prepared ourselves for that event which, from its sudden occurrence, unmans our resolutious and prostrates us in the dust by the sternness and severity of the blow. There is another sad thought, but, nevertheless, a true one?that the more friendships we form, the more attachments we make, the more tender and endearing connections we weave around us and invest ourselves with, in this world, the more of grief and suffering we shall be called to endure. A time will come when all earthly attachments must be severed, and the more fond we have been of friends and the more devoted to connections, tlie more agonizing and severe will be the struggle which separate us and tears us away from them. It may be that the stoic's life is productive, eventually, of less pain and suffering than that Individual endures who possesses more delicate seusibility, and is alive to the generous impulses of nature and the finest feelings of the human heart; it may be so, but yet his cold enjoyments and benumbing sympathies afford him but poor comfort, when most he needs the sympathy, the sustaining hand, and upholding arm of ardent and enduring friend strip. Life would not De wortn possessing 11 this polar star did not illuminate its dark paths, and throw around us dreariness some evidence of sympathetic love for each other ; and though separation, when it comes, crush th^heart and tear asunder its very fibres, yet how eagerly we taste of its delicious sweets and exult in the participation of its delirious enjoyments. WHAT IS MAN 1 While the gastric juice has a mild, bland, sweetish taste, it possesses the power of dissolving the hardest food that can be swallowed. It has no influence whatever on the soft and delicate fibres of the living stomach, nor ujion the living hand, but at the momeut of death it begins to eat them away with the power of the strongest acids. There is dust 011 sea, on land, in the valley, and on the mountain; there is dust always and everywhere; the atmosphere is full of it; it penetrates tire noisome dungeon, and visits the deepest darkest caves of the earth; no palace door can shut it out, no drawer so secret as to escape its presence; every breath of wind dashes it upon the open eye, yet that eye is not blinded, because under the eyelid there is incessantly emptying itself a fountain of the blandest fluid in nature, which spreads itself over the surface of the eye at every winking, and washes every atom of dust away. But tliis liquid is mild and so well adapted to the eye, itself has some acridity, which, under some circumstances, becomes so decided as to be scalding to the skin, mid would rot away the eyelids, were it not that along the^d^es of them are little oil manufactories, winch spread over their surface a coating as impervious to the liquid necessary for keeping the eyelids washed clean as the best varnish is impervious to water. The breatli which leaves the lungs has been so perfectly divested of its life-giving properties, that to rebreathe it unmixed with other air the moment it escapes from the mouth, ...tiiuA imrMA/llofft V?r anfpA/m finn WUUiU tsAUOU ilillUCUiAbU uuaifii vjj ouiiwrtvtvii ^ while if it hover about us, more or less destructive influence over health and life would l)e occasioned. But it is made of a nature so much lighter than the common air, tli&t tlie instant it escapes the lips and nostrils it ascends to the higher regions above the breathing point, there to be rectified, renovated, and sent back again, replete with purity and. life. How rapidly it ascends is fully exhibited on frosty mornings. But, foul and deadly as the expired air is, nature, wisely economical in all her works and ways, turns it to good account in its outward passage through the organs of the voice, making of it the whispers of love, the soft words of affection, the sweetest strains of ravishing music, the persuasive eloquence of the finished orator. If a well-made man be extended on the ground, his arms at right angles with the body, a circle making the navel its centre will just take in his head, the fingers' ends, and the feet. The distance from top to toe is precisely the same as that between the tips of the fingers when the arm is extended. The length of the body is just six times that of the foot, while the distance from the edge of the hair to the edge of the chin is onetenth the length of the whole stature. Of the sixty-two primary elements known in nature, only eighteen are known to the human body, and of these seven are metalic. Iron is found in the blood, phosphorous in the brain, limestone in the bile, lime in the bones, and dust and ashes in all. Not only these eighteen human elements, but the whole sixty-two of which the universe is made, have their essential basis in the four substances of oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen and carbon, representing the more familiar names of fire, water, saltpetre, and charcoal. And such is man, the lord of the eartli !?a spark of fire, a drop of water, a grain of powder, an atom of charcoal. Terrors of the Snow Slide.?To those who have never witnessed a snow slide, the term has 110 terror, while those who have seen an avalanche in the Wasatch shudder at the very thought of it. The mountains in the ? 2 ?-?11.? A%\wf/\/v^o 11fn ufann unrl Vicinity UJL LI ir vuuiuiinuimo aic bure. It is said an Indian will not venture up Little Cottonwood Cafion. When questioned as to the cause of this strange fear of that particular cafion, tliey shake their heads and say "No good." Perhaps in former years while, hunting in the mountains, a slide might have sent a number of them to the happy huntinggrounds. Since thediscovery of minerals in that section the timber along the mountain sides has been nearly all cut down. The snow falls deei>er on this range than on any other part of the Rocky Mountains, and the least jar at the bottom will start the snow to moving gradually. At first it starts gently, the whole mass gaining strength and speed till it finally comes down like a thunderbolt, with the roar of a thousand pieces of artillery. Trees and houses are licked up and snapped away as though so much paper. Immense boulders are taken up in its course, and nothing but desolation and ruin remain behind. There are many causes for snow slides. If a heavy fall of snow is followed by a thaw and then a sudden cold snap, the next enow i will be very restless on this smooth surface. ] Again, if a party should undertake to wade along through the snow on a steep mountain side, they leave a furrow behind them which the immense pressure of the snow above is bound to close up. The maguitude of the slide depends upon the momentum the mass may acquire before closing up this gap. Hence it is that men who know the capricious nature of snow in our mountain ranges are very cautious in moving around. The explosion of a heavy charge of gunpowder hundreds of feet beneath the surface, has been known to start the snow overhead.?Salt Lake Tribune. THE MORMON INIQUITY. [ Speaking of the Mormon iniquity, the New York Press says the discussion in Congress of | the question has again aroused public opinion on that greatest of all iniquities. That paper remarks: The question of how it can be hidden from view without offending the Saints in Utah, is beinsr considered, ana the end of the debate ( and the session of Congress will no doubt find ' the subject in the same position as at present. There is but one solution of the problemeradicate the evil; quietly if possible, but stamp it out of existence at the point of the swora if need be. Let Congress take hold of the matter promptly, and let the majesty of the law step in and say to these people: Live as other people live or leave the country! American women have been insulted long enough. Let their fathers, brothers, sons husbands, now come to the rescue, and dethrone this harlot of the West, and teach these people that they can no longer offend decency by their free-love pranks. The wretches are poisoning the miuds of the young and innocent. Victims from all parts of the world are led to the slaughter and their bodies made sacrifices for fiends in human shape. Every man and woman of common sense is in favor of crushing this monster now and forever. Blow it out of existence if it fills the great Salt Lake with human blood ! The Columbia Christian Neighbor, reviewing this subject, says: The Mormon question is occupying now, as it has for some time, considerable attention from the friends of good government. The matter is being discussed in the religious and secular press, and the writers all endeavor to show how to deal with this class of our population. At last Congress has taken a forward step, a bill having been passed by the Senate for a radical reconstruction of the territorial government of Utah, the provisions of which strip the Mormon element of its political power and influence, and make the enforcement of the law against polygamy practicable and possible. But will this bill pass the House of Representatives ? It is exceedingly doubtful. And should it pass will the law against polyg- ' amy be enforced ? We shall see, although we confess we have but little expectation that it will be. In the meantime, the abomination increases and gathers strength daily. And a recent visitor to Utah states that a very large part of the increase of the membership of the Mormon Church is obtained from the Southern States, where its agents have been and st'ill are actively at work. This same visitor says that the population of Utah is 144,000; the aggregate wealth-, $26,000,000; the sohool system, in which 20,000 children are enrolled, is supported at an annual cost of 5142,000. The : Mormon population is put at 120,000, and the membership of the Mormon Church at 56,000. But how is this blot upon our civilization to be removed ? A writer says that polygamy must be put down by law. and that Mormonism may reform itself or disintegrate and fall to pieces from internal dissensions, and that the Christian churches must counteract Mormon missionary work abroad and in Utah by exposing its errors and endeavoring to reclaim its deluded votaries. SWEETS FOR THE SWEET. "The old world was essentially a sour one. It never felt the sweetening influence of sugar." A thought of this nature occurred to me as I was taken through the workshop of a fashionable confectioner lately, and allowed to see candy in the process of manufacture. It must be confessed that condiments which look very tempting when exposed in the shop window are far from attractive when seen in embryonic state, in the kitchen. But, then, it is as unfair to judge this work unfinished as any other. Two or three caldrons set over hot fires, contain pure sugar which is being melted. As soon as the liquefaction is complete, water is added and the mixture is allow ed to eOol. In this way a considerable gain in the weight and bulk of the material is accomplished. On round, tin frames are stuck thirty or forty needles, and on each of these is placed half an English walnut. Then the mixture is heated again and the syrup poured over the nuts and cooled. By this simple process sugared walnuts are evolved. There are several tables covered with large marble slabs in the room. On these, caramels are poured out in a viscous state, and when they grow liard they are carefully cut into rectangular pieces. Some are then covered with oiled tissue paper, while others are left in their natural condition and placed on the , counters. The white paste of chocolate creams is prei>ared in a large vessel resembling a coffee pot. When boiled to the proper consis- ( tency, so tliat the material can be poured out s slowly^ it is poured into a pan, each drop being < cut off with a knife. Then the chocolate coat- j ic ??it nn on.l eat. qqi/Ia until it. linrdflnh. 1 Two or three men are making old-fashioned i molasses candy, kneading it over a hook, throw- j ing it to and fro like a shuttle in a loom, until j at last the desired whiteness and firmness are i obtained. Others are flavoring messes in pans j ! which will turn out eventually to be very i palatable peppermint or lemon drops. One boy t is kept busy all the time in cracking and < cleaning English walnuts, which have to be 1 washed before they are used. This cracking t requires some skill, for the nut must be left in * two pieces; when it is broken into more, it is j not used for sugaring, but is worked up into < less expensive nut candy. At respectable confectioners, where pure materials are used, little coloring matter is s employed, the chief being cochineal, which, as 1 every one knows, is a small red insect found i in the "West Indies. This gives the crimson i tinge to peppermints and other varieties, and t is perfectiy harmless. But unscrupulous deal- 1 ers not only adulterate their stock itself, but t they use poisonous brown dyes for tlieir choc- ^ olate; and it is safe to say the variegated t coloring matter iu all cheap confectionery is f injurious. After a thorough inspection, the i writer went his way musing, inclined to pity 1 the poor ancients less for their want of candy, 3! reflecting that though they had no confection- 'i ers they also had no dentists. a Tim Upas Tree.?No tree has been the p subject of so many ridiculous fables as the i, upas, and till quite lately they were popularly believed. On the faith of a Dutch snrgeon named Foersche, it was related that the upas c flowed from a unique and singular tree, which i: vegetated in the midst of a frightful solitude n in Java, ''the valley of death." According to c this traveler, no living creature could resist r the poisonous vapors which it exhaled, and for c three or four leagues around only dead bodies fi aud skeletons of men and animals were to be 1 met with. The birds themselves which ven- I - ? Jf.11 tured into tne surrounamg air ieu iu me \ ground as if struck by lightning. Criminals, a consigned to capital punishment, alone essayed a the task of wresting its infernal produce from t tire tree, Many tried the perilous journey, but a very few returned from it. c We owe the refutation of this fabulous nar- e rative to Leschenault, a recent French traveler. This traveler noticed that the famous poiBon is furnished by two species of trees I which grow amid the forests of Java. So far f from exereising a deleterious influence upon all t that surrounds them, they are encomjiassed by r a luxurious vegetation, while birds, lizzards. c and insects lend animation to their boughs ana i foliage. The learned Frenchman, while ex- s amiuing one of tliese trees, which lie had cut t down, had his face and hands covered with the t exudation flowing from the broken branches, c yet he experienced no bad effects. But wlieH 1 the upas juice is introduced by means of a i puncture, the effect is rapidly fatal. Eight a drops injected into the veins of a horse will kill it directly. The story of the "valley of death," probably, had its origin in the fact that there was jorne locality in this volcanic country where earbonic-acid gas poured out from a crack in the earth ir suoh quantities as to produce the fatal effects attributed to the tree. The native Javans use the juico as an arrow poison, prejiared much the same as the South Ameriuans make their woorara, with which their blow-gun arrows are envenomed. The upas tree belongs to the bread-fruit family, and jrows, in a beautiful symmetrical shape, to the height of 100 feet or more. Encouragement.?An amusing story is told of a little fellow named Artie, one of three mothers, wtiose parents had brought them up co be brave and self-reliant. He couldn't do much, but what he could do he did with all ais might. And as their parents were Metholists of the good old-fashioned kind, the boys vere in the Ibabit of hearing?at such times? ;he hearty "Amen" break forth from their 'ather's lips when the sermon was particularly mjoyable. One cold Sabbath day these children were eft at hom t, with many cautions to be Caesar Hardly had the parents left, ere the woodvork near the stove pipe was discovere^.to be in fire, and out of the children's reach; but, vith wonderful activity and energy, the eldest ilimbed upon the table and put out the flames. When the father and mother returned they ihuddered to see the danger to which their lear ones had been exposed, and with thankful iearts praised them for their courage. "How did you manage, Tommy, to reacli he fire ?" asked their father. "Why," said Tommy, I pushed the table ip to the wall and got upon that." "And did you help your brother, Jimmy ?" o the next. "res, sir; I brought him a pail of water and tended him the dipper." "And what did you do V" said the proud ather to his pet, the youngest of the group. "Well, papa," said Artie, "you see I was oo small to help put out the Are, so I just tood by and hollered 'Amen.'" ? ? m Wkll Pot rED.?He was a plain old man rom the country; lie wore an old-style, brimned hat, and his clothes were homespun; but vhen a slick-looking stranger stepped up to dm on Vine street and professed to know tim, and asked all about Ins wife and family, aid wanted to know when be came down and vhen he was going back, the old man declined lie rirnffere<i hand, and drawing back, said: 'That's all right, young man ; never mind he perliroinftries; git right down to business twonce. You've got some goods at the de>ot and want to pay freight. Hain't got lothin' but a hundred-dollar check. Would ' hold the check and let you have $60.43 to >ay the freight ? Or p'r'aps you've just drawid a prize in a lottery, and would I jts' step troutid with you and see you git the money; >r p'r'haps?but the confidence man slipped iway; the granger was two well posted, altogether. As the old man gazed after his rereating figure he chuckled out: Slipped up ? hat time, Mr. Bunko; I'm posted?I've read ' he papers.''? Cincinnati Saturday Night. v Tihb.?It waits for no man?it travels onvardj with an even, uninterrupted, inexorable itep, without accommodating itself to the deays of mortals. The restless hours pursue heir course--moments press after momentslay treads upon day?year rolls after year. 3oes man loiter ? procrastinate ? Is he listless >r indolent ? Behold the days, and montlis, ind years, unmindful of his delay, are never iluggisli, but ra$rch forward in silent and solemn procession. Our labors and toils, our deas and feel iugp, maybe suspended by sleep? laxkness, and silence, and death, may reign around! us, but time rests not?slumbers nevsr, but presses along, and knows no stoppages, we may dam up mighty rivers?stop them in iourneying to the ocean?press them back to ;beir source ; but the arrest of time is beyond the power of any human being, besides Onnip)tence. The clock may cease to strike, the bell to t(Al; the sun may cease to shine, the noon stand still; but the busy hours pass on. rhe months and years must move for ever forward. Newspaper "Organs."?If the excellence )fa newspaper is not always measured by its profitableness, it is generally true that if it loes not pay its owner, it is valueless to the public. Not all the newspapers which make raoney are good, for some succeed by catering :o the lowest tastes of respectable people, and ;o the prejudice, ignorance and passion of the owest class: but as a rule the successful journal pecuniarily is the best journal. The reairnis for this fire on the surface. The ininecu lious newspaper cannot give its readers prompty the news, and, still worse it cannot be inlependent. The political journal that relies for support on drippings of party favor or pat onage is a poor affair, and, in the long run or iliort run, comes to grief. The newspaper >nly becomes a real power when it is able on ;he basis of pecuniary independence to free tself from all such entanglements. An edi;or who stands with hat in hand, has the reipect accorded to any other beggar.?Charles Dudley Warner. ? A Shrewd Peddler.?Sharp dealing is sonfined to neither place nor people. In a imall German town an inn-keeper, to get rid )f a book-peddler's importunities, bought an ilmanac from iiim, and putting it in his pocket eft the inn, his wife just then came in to take lis place. The woman was tlien persuaded to luy an almanac, not knowing that her husinnd had one already. The husband shortly returning and discovering the trick, sent his >orter to the railway station after tlie peddler, with a message that he wished to see the lat;er on important. business. "Oh, yes," said ihe peddler, "I know, be wants one of my alnanacs. but I really can't miss my train for ;bat. You a n give me a quarter and take the ilmanac to lii.a." The porter paid the money md carried the third almanac to the inn-keei>;r. Imagine the sensation of the victim! An Arctic Winter.?It is a mistake to luppose that the Arctic winter, in the higher atitude, is a long, dreary one of opaque darkless. The highest latitude yet reached by nan is eighty three degrees, twenty minutes, ;wenty seconds, and there twilight lasts four lours and forty-two minutes on December 22, he shortest day of the northern year. Man vill have to go some 327 miles further north iban he has yet gone if he is to reach the region of absolute darkness. The pole itself is n the dark but seventy-seven days?from November 13 to January 29. There is a pe iod of about four days in the year during vhich the sun shines on both poles at the lame time. This is due to the feet* that the iuu is larger than the earth, and that his rays ire bent by the earth's atmosphere in such a vay as to converge upon its suTfa.ee. A Productive Battle-Ground.?IlunIreds and thousands of old soldiers, both Conederate and Federal, will remember Missiontry Ridge, near Chattanooga. It is the site of ?ne of the most decisive battles of the war? ugged, rocky, steep, poor in soil as any part >f the table land, aud was, until recently, re yarded as worthless. For what purpose men ield it was not known by themselves, or any>ody else. Three or four years ago its lands voukl not bring over two to four dollars an icre. Now the ridge is covered with orchards, ,nd the profits are such that no land can be (ought for less than forty or fifty dollars an .ere. It is thus old ideas give way before new onditions and new infusions of brainsand enrgy. "By tiie Card."?In the lime of George II, Horace Walpole tells us th?at everybody ollowed namlet's direction, and spoke "by he card." They were made the vehicles of nessages of all kinds, and even reverend biships would take up an ace of hearts to convey nstruction on serious matters of business; ome of which are still in existence. Caricaures, then a new species of satire, were someimes drawn upon them, the ministers of state . ondescending to invent the devices, Charles Fownshend himself carricaturing the trial of Idrairal Byng so cleverly that tlte pack was fterwards engraved.