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- ? lewis m. grist, proprietor. | Jniteprniient Jfamilj ffttospptr: Jfffr % promotion of tjjt political, j&orial, ^gricaltnral anb Contmertial Interests of % JSontjj. | TERMS?$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 38. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 33, 1883. NO. 13. fdected fadrg. THE OLD STOKY. I was weeping, sad and weary, And the night was dark and dreary ; Endless seeming to my child heart, Longing for the morning light, Pain and woe full sore wore o'er mo, And the shaded lamp before me Seemed to mock my bitter yearning, Long ago, one winter night. Till my mother's soft caressing Fell upon me like a blessing, As she told of One who suffered Bitter throes on Calvary ; Till I bushed my sobs and crying, On her gentle bosom lying, While she told me of the Saviour And His death upon the tree. Told me o'er and o'er the story Of the Christ child and His glory, Of the shepherds' wondrous vision And the star of promise bright; Of the humble shed and manger Cradling the holy stranger ; Of the angels, praises singing, Long ago, one winter night. Stiller grew mj* heart's quick beating As she told me of the meeting At the tornb, one Sabbath morning, Of the angels fair and bright. Then, at last, the story ended. Up to God a prayer ascended? Ah, it all comes back so plainly To my fevered brain to-night. As upon my couch I languish, Soothingly upon my anguish, Like a star that breaks from the darkness, Or a ray of morning light, Comes the thought of that sweet story Of the Christ child and his glory, That was told to hush my wailing, Long ago one winter night. Ah! ray burden seemeth lighter. And the darkness groweth brighter; Pain and grief no longer o'er me Their dark wings of sorrow cast; Christ, mv king, forever reigneth, And my soul no morecomplaineth; Christ has raised the veil of shadows From my weary heart at last. JU Original Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. . BY HERBERT JOHNSON. CHAPTER XVI. At the sound of her name, softly and tremulously uttered, Sophy turned. For an instant she stood paralyzed ; then, as Harry stretched out his arms, she rushed into them, and fell half-fainting on his breast. She lay there at first in a sort of delirious extasy, oblivious of everything but that her fears had proved false. Harry was restored to her. Harry was alive and well. It was his cheek that pressed hers ; his strong arms that cjasped her ; his voice that whispered broken words of tenderness in her ear. In the first overwhelming consciousness this one fact, of joy inconceivable and supreme, the light which had thus suddenly broken upon her drove every shadow from her mind. But only for a little while. Like a dreadful phantom the recollection of her true position rose up before her. She started from her lover, trying to extricate herself from his clasp. "You must not !?you must not!" she cried wildly. "I forgot.-' "Forgot what ??My darling, what do you mean ?" "Oh Harry, forgive me," she moaned. "I could not help it. They made me. Oh, my love, how can I tell you ?" She shuddered, and the words died away on her lips. Her wild look and incoherent manner .alarmed him. He almost thought she must have lost her mind. "For God's sake, tell me what you mean," he entreated. "Don't tortue me in this way !"?Then with a sudden sickening fear, "Are you married to somebody else ?" "Not married?yet. But I shall be?I was to have been ?" " When ?" "To-morrow." "To whom V" "jir. E.r?Miif. "The traitor ! The false villain !" burst from Harry's lips. "Was it for this that I saved his life ?"? He flung her hand from him; she caught his own again, and clung to it. "Harry, hear me. Harry, don't look that way. Let me tell you everything. -You don't understand." "Let me go, Sophy. I understand enough to know that this is no longer the place for me. False?you false?you whom I trusted beyond every living creature ! Was this your faithfulness?your love ?" "You must listen to me. I have never ceased to love you ; I never could. My heart is not in this engagement, and lie knows it. But I?we all thought ybu were dead. If I had dreamed of the possibility of your ever coming back, even twenty years hence, I should not have yielded, if they had gone down on their bended knees." "Who do you mean by they ?" "Everybody?he, and mamma, and your uncle. They all persuaded me?" "My uncle ! It is strange that he should have been in the plot too?" "It was no plot. Oh, if you could only understand !" cried poor Sophy, wringing her hands in an agony. "We have suffered so much?mamma nearly died. Ever since papa's death she has been ill?" "Dr. May ! is he dead V" interrupted Harry, his voice softening in spite of himself. He stood listening to her now, almost against his will, with his head turned away, as if he could not near to iook on ner iace. "Yes. And we have been poor?very poor. And Mr. Erskine has been our benefactor. He has done everything for us. I do not know what we should have done without him. Indeed, he is not to blame. lie is very noble and good." "I see. He is rich, and can give you ease and plenty. So many women marry for that reason ! But I never should have supposed you one of the many," said Harry, bitterly. "Blame me if you will. I know I cannot justify myself in your eyes. Oh, it is all misery ! I wish I were dead." "No. It is I who ought to have been dead," said Harry, with a laugh that sounded dreadful in Sophy's ears. "I have made a fearful mistake. Never mind, Sophy ; I'll make it all light. Just as soon as I've seen my old uncle I'll go off again, and leave you to your new choice. I don't want to stand in your light. Cruel as you are to me, I love you still, too well for that." "You will kill me, if you talk in that way." She stood shivering all over, as it with an ague fit. He looked.at her slight figure, her l>ent head, her white, worn face, and a feeling of compunction rushed over him "Forgive me, Sophy," he said, more gently. "I was a brute to talk so. After all, I dare say you are not so very much to blame. Only, after such a terrible time as Fve had?with nothing to sustain me through it all but the thought of your love, and what the coming home would be?and to return to find f/tis?" His voice broke down. He felt choked, suffocated by the sobs that were rising up in his throat, and which he was trying to suppress. They stood, those two, held apart by the Fate that had thrust itself between them. i For a little space the silence was unbroken, ! save by the struggling breath, the deep-drawn | sighs, that told of what was going on in the bosom of each. Then their eyes met. Glances j that said what words were powerless to exI press, caught and kindled, and drew them j irresistibly together. The barrier was swept ' away, and by a simultaneous movement they embraced, clinging together in a desperate clasp that seemed to say "We defy Fate?it shall not part us!" "Sophy," muttered Harry hoarsely, "it is not too late for things to be changed. You were bound to me first. He shall give you up." "But I?dare I ask him ?" she moaned. "There is nothing he would not do. But after all that is post?" "After all that is past, who can have a better right to you than I ? You were mine I minn nlu'UVC Wllilt". UtSL, JUU llclVC UCDIl Ui lliv m II I.J u. ....... can he have done, to merit a sacrifice on your part that will destroy two lives?yours and mine V He is only a stanger, whom chance?a cursed chance?threw upon our shore." "He teas a stranger ; but he has been an invaluable friend. Harry, his generosity has been without bounds. I feel myself so deeply his debtor that I know no other way of repaying him but this. I know that he would release me; but it would break his heart." "And would you break mine instead ? Are your vows to him more sacred, more binding, than those you have made to me me a hundred?nay, a thousand times V Answer me that." "Xo?not more sacred. But I am pledged? and the time is so near?" "You were pledged to me before you ever knew him. Your present engagement was only made under the supposition that I was lost?and is compulsory, you yourself admitted." "Xot exactly compulsory?they begged me?" "Well, if you spoke truly when you said that your heart was unchanged, it is easy I enough to settle this matter. Follow the dictates of that, and forget everything else. Choose between us two. It is not too late for you to choose. Be true to yourself?and to me. Oh Sophy ! can you hesitate ?" lie si>oke with a force and vehemence that seemed to defy opposition. Sophy had already felt, as she listened to him, that he was no longer the boy, ardent, ignorant of the world, whom she remembered. An added manliness, a new self-reliance, a self-assertion, that sprung from the experience of a lifetime, crowded into a few brief months, spoke in an authoritative manner and resolute tone. lie no longer pleaded. lie seemed to command, and to feel the right to do so. He had conquered the agitation which had deprived him of all power of reason. His only aim now was to prove to her clearly where right and justice lay. Rapidly, fluently, he continued to follow up his arguments, while she listened, powerless to answer. Had she not already said all that she could say ? Right or wrong, she could not resist him when he drew her to his heart, when he kissed her drooping face, when he told her that this, and this alone, was her true resting place ; that she was his own, and could never belong to another. "Was not this what she had been yearning for all these years, and now must she dash the sweetness from her lips, when she had drained the bitter of the cup already to the dregs ? While this tumult was going on in her heart, while she stood, still supported by his arm and listening to him in a bewildered, half comprehending way, a window of the house, near which they stood, unclosed. Mrs. May had heard their voices, and not understanding what could have happened, now arose from her bed, where she had been for some time vainly trying to sleep, and looked out to see what was the matter. "Sophy, my darling," she tremblingly asked, "is anything wrong ?" "Mamma, dearest, I will come in. I am coming now, and will tell you. You must talk to her," said Sophy to her lover as she led him towards the door. "You and she must decide; I trust to Tier. I cannot think, nor reason any more. But let me go first to her room and prepare her. Too sudden a knowledge of your return may do her harm, for she is still weak and cannot bear a shock." ******** Mr. Erskiue, when Harry had passed on, had lingered a little while in the road, and then, mechanically turning, had walked towards his own home. Ilis home! There was mockery in the words. What spot was there on earth now that could be to him a home '? He reached his house, and went in. Entering his study, where, as everywhere else, his housekeeper had, that afternoon, busied herself in putting things in the most exact order, in anticipation of the arrival of its new mistress 011 the following day, he sat down and thought, or rather tried to think. His brain was a chaos. He felt, but did not yet fully comprehend, the dilemma in which he stood. "Am I awake ?" he muttered, passing his hand over his brow; or is this a fearful dream, a nightmare from which I shall soon be released ?" He rose up presently, and began to walk about. He took some turns about the room, then passed out through the hall, into the opposite apartment. From thence into another. The demon of restlessness had seized him. He must keep in motion, if only to escape from his own reflections, or they would drive him mad. He ascended the stairs, lie entered the chamber 011 the second floor. This was the one assigned to the use of his bride, and next to it was the dainty little boudoir, that he had taken such joy in fitting up to give her pleasure. He looked around on the furnitufe, the delicate knick-knacks that were awaiting her coming to take possession of them. They fowl- nuituiu for liar nvpspncp How 3CU1UCU IU c?oxv in 14 v,v,ij iiw often, in fancy, had he seen her sitting, as she would have been, in that very chair by the little work-stand 1 Picturing to himself her very attitude, seeming to hear the very tones of her voice as she would speak to him. IIow real, how true the picture had appeared! And that night?that self-same night?had he not held her in his arms ? Had she not kissed him?and was that first kiss to be her last ? Yes, he said to himself, it was all over. Not for an instant did he dream of holding her to her promise now. Bitterly, bitterly he remembered how hard that promise had been to win ; how much (notwithstanding her efforts to conceal this) it had evidently cost her to make it. lie .-still believed that had it been kept, she would not have repented it; that he could, by the sheer force of his conquering love, have made her happy. This belief made his loss all the harder to bear. He could have supported it better, had he thought that she would really have been miserable as his wife. Fate seemed very cruel to him. If only this could have luipjiened earlier?before matters had gone quite so far. True, his love would have been the same ; but he had nerved himself to disappointment, and the way in which it might come could make little difference. But to have his wish all but granted?to have so glowing a hope placed before him, only to vanish as it came within his very grasp?this was, indeed, hard. He seemed to have been made the very plaything of chance, tossed j from hand to hand, from billow to shore, and . back again on the merciless waves, only to l>e j stranded forever on the rocks of desolation and despair. When he had lingered in this room awhile, ! he went to his own chamber, and locked the | door. The moonlight streamed broadly in ! through the open window. Its radiance fell j upon the polished surface of something that lay on a little table beside his bed. It was a pistol, which, by a strange chance, he had that day been handling for some purpose, and had forgotten to put aside. He took up the weapon, and looked at it. A strange smile came upon his face. "Odd that I should haye left this here," he said to himself. "There seems to be something suggestive in the fact. How easilv. with this. could I end everything! IIow quickly find oblivion from my mysery !?How many, in my place, would seek its friendly aid 1" The idea, however, quickly passed from his mind. With a resolute air he put the pistol in its accustomed place, on a shelf within his closet ; closed the door, locked it, and threw the key into a drawer. "It shall never be said that Destiny made a coward of me," he said. "But why am I wasting my time thus ? Much remains for me to do ; the morning will soon be here." He closed the window and struck a light. His purpose was to write, and arranging his materials on a table before him, he sat down, and after some deliberation, commenced his task. Having once commenced, it seemed easy for him to pursue it. His pen flew rapidly over the paper. For the space of an hour, he wrote without intermission, then the pen dropped from his hand. As if utterly exhaustd by the effort, he leaned back for some time in his chair without motion, his eyes closed, and his features fixed and pallid as in death. The striking of a clock in the hall below aroused him from this stupor. It warned him of the lateness of the hour. It was twelve o'clock. "Already !" he cried, starting up. "Aiul I have made no preparations yet. Well, they will not take me long. At four?let me see?yes, at four it will almost be daybreak. Before that, I must rouse up Saunders and make him get his boat ready. And now, what is it I must do ??Oh yes, I recollect." He got out his traveling portmanteau, glanced over some papers and other trifles lying loosely inside, and threw them on the floor. Then opened a drawer, selected some articles of clothing, and proceeded to pack them up. This task was soon accomplished, though he stopped once in a while during its performance, pressing his hand in a confused, hesitating way to his forehead, as if there was a pain there that annoyed him and could not be driven off. "Strange this dizzy feeling," he murmured. "It reminds me of the typhoid days. Ah, how much better it would have been if tho*e had ended in a different way! And yet my convalesence was very pleasant. I remember ...i ~i.~ .1 ..... C/. WIl^Il SI1C U3CU tu UU111C UYC1 UIJ lllUC UU" phy?no, no, not mine. I was wrong?.ill wrong. But I don't blaine lier. God bless her; God forever bless and guard her 1 I wonder if she will think of me kindly sometimes V Yes, I am sure she will. She has such a tender, pitiful heart. Poor little heart. "Would that I had not added to its sufferings. But I meant it for the best. She knows that. It is my comfort to think that she has always known it. 'TIow weary I feel. The torture of a lifetime has been condensed into the last three hours, and like a prisoner taken off the rack, I long unutterably for a little repose. If I do not rest, my strength will fail me. I shall wake up in time?" In a groping manner he made his way to the bed. With the light still burning, he threw himself dressed as lie was, upon his pillow. It was not long before he slept or seemed to sleep ; but even in this repose a feverish restlessness agitated him. Incoherent mutterings, as when under the influence of delirium, escaped his lips. A vision flitted before his dreaming fancy, and this was what he saw: A stormy, wind-tossed sea, its billows rolling mountain-high, and, and struggling against them ; a lonely ship, damaged by the tempest, and feebly trying to make her way to the still distant shore. lie heard the signal guns booming, and the voices of the eager, laboring crew ; the orders shouted by the captain, the very tones of his hoarse voice, sounded distinctly in his ear. Then came joyful words of hope, the signal of approaching help, and a small bark, manned by- a few brave men, appeared in sight, promising rescue to those on the slowly sinking ship. Tiien an interval of oblivion, in which darkness engulfed him ; a bewildered, slow return to consciousness, to find himself saved from peril, and his rescuer? Sophy's lover. The whole scene passed before him as vividly as in reality. He lived through it all again. It was less a dream than an actual, living representation of what had occurred. The vision passed away. On his senses a calm was gradually stealing. Like the hours of peaceful repose which had followed his deliverance from his great danger, came a respite from grievous recollections and distressful thoughts. An angel face smiled ui>on him. A voice of celestial melody sounded in his ear, blent wondrously with the echoes of other and half-forgotten voices, which had wrung through his childish days. .Now far, now near, a strain of harmony vibrated as from golden chords ; and as he listened, the vexed contraction of his brow smoothed magically away, and in its place a smile as peaceful as a child's settled upon his features. Was it the hand of an angel that stamped it there V When the light of dawn stole into the room, where the candle in its socket had burnt down, it played upon that smile, serene, ineffable, traced in lines that no mortal eyes would see fadeaway. [to be continued. | Tiie Use of Tobacco.?It is rather singular that Americans are the only civilized people who habitually chew tobacco, although sailors of nearly every nation are addicted to its mastication. It is singular too, that we, probably, employ tobacco in other ways less than other countries. Snuffling is rather rare here, common as it is in Europe, especially ! on the continent. We do not smoke any more than, if as much as, the English ; and the French, Italians, notably the Germans, Dutch and Spaniards, exceed us in smoking. But as tobacco eaters we occupy the field alone, having, it is to be regretted, a monopoly of one of the most unwholesome and obnoxious of practices. The rational mastica tion and expectoration iire known over the world, ;uul do ample service in all conceptions and caricatures of Brother Jonathan. To see a landsman chewing towacco any where abroad is to know him for an American, native or adopted. Perhaps we stick to the worst of three customs because tobacco is to so large an extent <111 American plant. Europe knew nothing of it until the discovery by Columbus of the Western world. The sailors lie sent ashore at Cuba found the natives smoking, and seeing them emit smoke from their mouth and nostrils, imagined them to be 011 fire. All the natives from the northwest coast to Patagonia used tobacco, and to chew it is one of our inalienable and aboriginal rights. ! Jdtjntme (tott ?ecmm. I' SELLING LIQUOR WITHOUT A LICENSE. THE STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA. ix the supreme court. November Term, 1881. f [Opinion by McQowan, A. J.] t j The Slate, respondent, vs. William Thorn- c burg, appellant. c I c This was an indictment under the Act of . December, 1880, for selling spirituous liquors \ without a license. i Eugene Lowry testified as follows : < "On or about the 21st or ttns montn, ^june, : 1881), I bought and paid for a quart of whisky from the defendant, William Thornburg. His place is outside of the town limits ; outside of j corporation; a short distance outside. It is in c this county, York. The defendant sold it to v me, and I paid him for it. I have a very sick j brother. His disease is consumption. The j doctor uses whisky in the treatment of broth- s er's case. He told myiatbac to send to Thorn- i burg's for whisky, because his whisky was bet- v ter than any other he could get. Father sent me for the whisky, and I told Thornburg all a about what the doctor said and what the whis- s ky was wanted for, before I got it. Thornburg f owns a government distillery outside the cor- t porate limits. The whisky I bought from him v was used strictly in the way for which it was s bought." c The Judge charged the jury that "the Act ^ under which the indictment was found, con- t tained no exceptions as to the use that might 0 be made of the spirituous liquors sold; that -v the prohibition was absolute and without ex- p ception, against all selling outside of the cor- t porated limits of a city town or village, t Hence, if they were satisfied that the sale was c made as alleged, it was no defence that the j whisky was bought for medical purposes, was a sold for such purposes, and that, in fact, it t; was so used." j. The jury found the defendant "guilty," with n' a recommendation to mercy. His attorney ri moved for a new trial, and in arrest of judg- j( ment. The Judge refused both motions, and he appeals to this Court upon the following s1 exceptions : w I. For that his Honor charged the jury g that if it was found that the defendant sold n spirituous liquors without a license, in the t] county of York, outside of the corporate w limits of Yorkville, that would be sufficient ^ upon which to base a verdict of guilty. p II. For that his Honor charged the jury p that the fact that the said liquor was sold for C( the purpose of being used, and was in fact w used, only for medical purposes, did not con- f. stifntp a larriil dafpnsfl. f. III. For that his Honor charged the jury ej that if they believed the facts as testified to a by the witnesses for the State, the same con- s. stituted a violation of the Act. tl IV. For that his Honor did not grant the jr motion for a new trial upon the ground that ;l( the testimoney was not sufficient to base a C) conviction upon under the Act. j? V. For that his Honor did not gran* the p, motion in arrest of judgment upon the ground f( that the testimony was not sufficient to base g. a conviction upon under the Act. d The Act of 1880, XVII Stat., 460, provided t] as follows: 0 Sec. I. That from and after the passage of a] this Act, no license for the sale of spirituous f( or intoxicating liquors shall be granted in o; South Carolina, outside of the incorporated ^ cities, towns and villages of this State, and it u shall be unlawful ior any person or persons j, to sell such liquors without a license to do so. u *****-** ^ Sec. IV. Any person violating any of tin ti provisions of this Act, shall, upon conviction w thereof, be fined in a sum of not less than two tl hundred dollars, or imprisoned for a term of e, not less than six months? or both fined and a] imprisoned in the discretion of the Court 8( trying the case. These provisions are positive and without S( qualification of any kind, and we have no tl authority to amend them or construe them in S( such way, as in effect, to add the words : "Pro- w iwled, This inhibition shall not inplude a sale ^ to one who declares at the time that the liquor ^ so purchased is intended alone for medical jj purposes." Such construction would not only n disregard the plain and positive words, but n completely emasculate the Act and thereby tl defeat the manifest intention of the Legisla- t< ture. We do not think that the case cited from u Kansas is analogous to this^Neither the title j or reference was given ; but as stated here, the Q case involved only the question whether cer- vv tain compounds or tinctures containing alco- jj hoi as one of the ingredients, should be held ^ to be within the meaning of Section X of the ir Kansas Act, which is in these words: "All tl liquors mentioned in Section I of this Act, and ^ all other liquors and mixtures thereof, by what ever name called, shall be considered and e] held to be intoxicating liquors within the ^ meaning of this Act." It seems that there C( were three cases heard together. In one, the a; article sold was "bay rum"; in another, it jj( was "a compound of whisky, tolu and wild cher- n ry, prepared by a physician;" and in the third, ? it was a compound known as "Prickly Ash ^ Bitters," and the question was whether these r< were such articles as fell within the meaning w of the act. li Judge Brewer, in delivering the judgment t] of the court, said : tl "It cannot be doubted but that Section ten tl is broad and sweeping enough to bring within s; the statute every liquid, which, by reason of 0 the presence, of alcohol, will produce intoxica- cj tion, and tins irrespective or the amount ot ? alcoliol contained, or the presence of other ingredients, of such a character as to prevent v\ any use of the liquid as a beverage. But such s| was not the intent of the Legislature. * * * c, The use of intoxicating liquors as a beverage w was the evil, and the statute must be read in n the light thereof. * * * * "Now the cases before us group themselves tj into three classes. The first embraces wlmt are generally and properly known as intoxica- j ting liquors, unmixed with any other substan- p ces. Thus, in one case, the sale of brandy is s, charged. The second includes articles equally ? well known, standard articles, and which, t] while containing alcohol, are never classed as e] intoxicating beverages. Their uses are culin- j, ary, medical or for the toilet. They are named n in the United States Dispensatory and other u similar standard authorities; the'formula; for s( their preparation are there given ; their uses j( and character areas well recognized and known by their names, as those of a horse, a spade, ? I or an arithmetic. The possibility of a differ- ? I ent and occasional use does not change their ^ ! recognized and established character. A par- ? I ticular spade may be fixed up for a parlor or, nament, but the spade does not belong there. ^ \ So, essence of lemon may contain enough of al- r ] cohol to produce intoxication. * * * It is p > possible that a man may get drunk upon it, ^< but it is 110 intoxicating liquor. ? "Bay rum, cologne, paregoric, tinctures g generally, all contain alcohol ; but in 110 fair or reasonable sense are they intoxicating liq- ^ | uors, or mixtures thereof. Now in reference ^ | to these several classes, we think these rules n j may be laid down : The first class is within ? 1 and the second is without the statute, and the c Court, as matter of law, may so declare. It is unnecessary, in charging the sale of whisky or brandy, etc., to allege that it will produce in- U toxication ; nor will it bring the sale of essence fi of lemon within the statute to allege that such tl essence will produce intoxication. TheCourts n will take judicial notice of the uses and cliar- n acter of these articles. You need not prove fi what bread is, or for what purpose it is used, ii No more need you in respect to whisky or gin t 011 the one hand, or cologne or bay rum 011 the 1 other. They are all articles of established a j name and character," &c. 0 , This case distinctly holds that there can be t] 1110 doubt when the article sold, as in the pres- ti 1 ent case, was whisky, pure and simple. The c ; quality of the article, as to the power to pro- h ! duce intoxication, is well known, and its sale ii 1 is forbidden without regard to the purpose for d which, in particular cases, it may be intended, tl "Yon need not prove what bread is, or for what I purpose it is used. No more need you in re- b spect to whisky or gin on the one hand, or co- p logne or bay rum on the other. They are all g irticles of established names and character." The judgment of this Court is that the judgneift of the Circuit Court be affirmed. "We concur. W. D. Simpson, C. J. IIenry McIver, A. J. Filed, March 4,1882. Note.?It is deemed advisable, for the sake )f comparison, to give the following extract rom Sec. 3, of the Act construed by the Court, o wit: "That hereafter * * * wines, 'ruits prepared with spirituous liquors, bitters, or *ther bevcrayes of which spirituous liquors form in ingredient, * * * shall only be sold unler the same terms as intoxicating liquors." HJisttllaiMOttis ^eatliug. SOUTHERN BOURBONS. A Boston clergyman, who lias been travelng in the South, attempts in a recent number if the Atlantic Monthly to explain who and vhat manner of men the so-called "Bourbon )emocrats" of the South, are "as used in the forth?"though he might more properly have aid, "by the Republican press of the North?" 'this word 'Bourbon' designates a class of white men composed chiefly of the leading citzens of the Southern States. The Bourbons re the principal business men, lawyers, phyicians, teachers, clergymen, merchants and armers of the South. They are everywhere he leaders of society, in the best sense of the rord. They sustian the churches, and give uch efficiency to the moral activities and disipline of the local communities as they have hus far attained. Taken broadly or generally, he class includes the best people of the South, r most of them. They are Bourbons because a politics they are Democrats and act in oposition to the principles, policy or methods of he Republican party, which has administered lie national government since the time of our ivil war. In the Southern States the term lourbon has no distinct significance. It is pplied indiscriminately by all classes of poliicians to any one who differs from them. It i there a convenient though empty epithet or ame of reproach. Every improvement?the epresentative or embodiment of the only leas by which society can exist or civilization e maintained ; and he is of course entitled to tigmatize his opponents as Bourbons. The ,'ord is a sham or burlesque weapon in the outli, and is used there by everybody in potical wrangling "for all it is worth." As to lie Southern men who compose the class to rhicli this name is usually applied in the forth, I am compelled to say that, aside from olitical matters, they are much like other eople, or like the best people in our Northern (immunities. They do not appear to love rhat it wrong for its own sake, nor to prefer ilsehood, baseness, cruelty or injustice to ) the virtues and good qualities which are Isewhere revered in good men. They are miable, truthful, conscientious, kind, public lirited and religious, resembling very closely le foremost men in our New England towns 1 all the important elements of personal charter; differing only, in general, in being more immunicative and having- less reserve than i usual among New Englanders. As to their olitical action, it seems to me to have been )r some years largely inevitable ; the necesiry product and result of the peculiar conitions of life and society in the South since le civil war. It does not appear to have been wing to sheer depravity 011 their part, nor to uy choice or agency of theirs, that there was >r some years a disturbed and unsettled state f things in the Southern States. Collisions etween different classes followed unavoidably pon the elevation of the emancipated slaves lto political supiriority over the disfranchised 'bite citizens of the country. There lias ever been any such completeness of organiza011 among the people of the South since the 'ar as many persons believe to have existed lere. That part of the country is distinguishI by mucli greater feebleness of community nd less organic life than belongs to Northern jciety; and the Bourbons are not really relonsible for everything that has been done )uth of Mason and Dixon's line. The men ius designated are, as a class, eminently jcial, hospitable, honest and upright men, if e leave their politics out of view. They ave, in a large measure, built up and mainlined such moral, social, industrial and regious organization and anxiety, as the South ow possesses, and much of what is best and lost encourageing in the present state of caii f 1mm gfofna 1q yihd IllJgd 111 bllC |JllliUipai KJUU L11C1 11 UVUIVO <U v* uv ) them and their efforts for practical reconduction in a time of extreme difficulty and ncertainty, when their resoursces were most iscourageingly slender, and when they had 0 precedents to guide them except such as 'ere furnished by the experience of mankind 1 the long contest between civilization and arbarism in the past. I think they have lade mistakes and done wrong things since ie war. I am not certain that we o:: anyody else would have done better than they. In conversation with these gentlemen I evrywhere express my conviction that illegal iterference with negro suffrage could not be mtinued without the most serious injury to II Southern interests, and that it would be etter that Southern men, Democrats, should lake the ballot entirely free to all who are leally entitled to its possession, and then enure whatever ills might result. They always ?plied that disturbance, violence and fraud ere each year diminishing, and that negro potical supremacy would be utterly ruinous for ie State and for society, and insisted that if ie Republican party of the South possessed ie character and employed the methods of the une party in the North they would gladly co[>erate with it, that they were ready to disard and abandon their present political oranization whenever any other party would ike up the real problems of the South and selously address itself to their solution. In :udying the Bourbons I have been forced to [include that nothing has been attained anyrhere much better than the domestic life of lis class of the Southern people in its intellience, refinement, beauty and general elevaon and wholesomeness. The plain English of this Boston clergyman's issertation upon the "Bourbons" is that the usiness, intelligence, refinement, culture, releetability and wealth of the South is in the democratic party. The Republican papers of ie North are in the habit of calling the SoutlirnDemocrats"Bourbons," an epithet which, i the light of this clergyman's investigation, lust be hereafter regarded as highly complilentary. The Republican party of the North ;eks to disrupt and overthrow the Democrat: party in the several Southern States, and Isioe a barbarous horde of half-civilized lie roes in control of the wealth, property and usiness of the South. The federal administration is bending all its patronage and eneries to this end, as if it were a good thing to lace virtue, intelligence and prosperity under he heels of vice, gross ignorance and business uin, as personified by the thick-skulled, black Republican party of the South. All this is atiinpted in order that the otlices of the federal overnment may be kept in the control of the entry who at present administer them. To cconiplish this they are not only willing but nxious to destroy the prosperity and welfare f a third part of the federal union. This lay be smart politics, but it is not only unpariotic but wicked.?JDoylestoum, Pa., Demand. Look at Your TmrMns.?If anybody will >ok carefully at the end of his thumb, he willl nd that the surface is ridged with little liread-like ranges of hills, wound round and ound in tiny spirals. If lie will take a nullifying glass and examine them closely, he will nd that there is a good deal of individuality 1 the way in which these are arranged. No svo thumbs in all the world are exactly alike. M.r, miiilnfnvo 111 f a in ratirrPH ill'P. JIS fixed lie liilllKlblil v ItlWUli Vl?lll * v?npvw **>w ncl decided as the Alps or the Sierras, the gegraphy of the thumb as unmistakable. Now lie Chinese have made use of this fact for esiblishing a rogue's gallery. Whenever a riminal is examined by the law, an impression s taken of his thumb. Smeared with a little imp-black, partially wiped and then pressed own 911 a piece of paper, an engraving of the Immb is made, and kept in the police records, t serves just the same purpose which is served y our photographing our burglars and pickockets. The accused can be identified with reat certainty. Nothing short of mutilating or burning the thumb can obliterate its fea- 1 tures. Sometimes a ghastly proof of guilt is furnished! A murderer, red-handed with his 1 crime, may touch his Anger's end upon a white ' wall, and so leave in the color of his guilt a photograph on the accusing wall. His signa- ] ture is left, just as unmistakably as if lie had signed the bond of his iniquity; and thus great crimes have been brought to light, and.deeds 1 of blood made to tell their own story. But this individuality in the skin of the tip ' of the thumb, strongly marked as it is, yet ad- < mits of strong family likeness. Brothers and 1 sisters who will take impressions of their ' thumbs will find resemblances among each 1 other that they will not find when comparing i them with the thumbs of strangers. Even < thus minutely does that strange thing, family 1 likeness, descend. What wonder is it that 1 faces look alike, voices sound alike; how can 1 it seem strange that members of the same fam- 1 ily should have dispositions aud similarities of i temper, of mental aptitudes and hereditary i diseases, when such minor peculiarities as the < texture at the end of- the thumb, and its ranges 1 of hills should also have familv resemblances in tiie midst of their indefinite diversities ? PECULIARITIES OF THE JACK RABBIT. The American jack rabbit is an inhabitant of Texas and of some other western States. He is often called the "mule-eared rabbit," and, by the cowboy, familiarly spoken of as the "muley." He is not a rabbit at all. A rabbit is an unobtrusive little annimal, who is found by school boys, in a hole in the ground, at the end of a long track in the snow. The so-called jack rabbit is quite a different 1 kind of soup-meat. He is identical with the British hare, except that he is larger, his color lighter, and his ears much longer. His avoirdupois is about twelve pounds, and hisears i measure, from tip to tip, about sixteen inches. 1 He does not burrow in the ground. He lies 1 under cover of a bunch of prarie grass, but is t very seldom found at home, his office hours 1 being between sunset and sunrise. He is to < be found during the day on thd open prarie, < where he feeds on the tender shoots of the ? mesquite or sage grass. He is not a ferocious ? animal, as a stranger might be led to suppose i from an examination of what purports to be 1 his picture, under the alias of "The Texian t Hare." i The jack rabbit has many enemies, among i them the cowboy, who shoots him with his t rifle, the coyote and the dog, that try to run 1 him down. lie has two ways of protecting i himself against his enemies. One way is to s squat, when he suspects danger, and fold his i ears along his sides. By doing this he often t escapes observation, as only his back is ex- a posed, the color of which harmonizes with the t brown of the withered grass. The other plan, t that he uses when discovered and pursued, is a to create remoteness between himself and his 1 pursuer. In giving his whole attention to a this matter, when necessary, he is a stupen- i dous success, and earnest to a fault. When J disturbed, he unlimbers his long legs, unfurls ^ his ears and goes off with a bound. He gen- 1 erally stops after running about one hundred c yards, and looks back to see if his pursuer is a enjoying the chase as much as he thought he ( would, and then he leaves for parts unknown, t There are many fast things, from an ice t boat to a note maturing in a bank, but noth- s ing to equal the jack rabbit. An unfounded f rumor gets around pretty lively, but could J not keep up with him for two blocks. When a an ordinary cur dog tries to expedite a jack rabbit route, he makes a humiliating failure of it. He only gives the rabbit gentle exercise. The latter merely throws up his ears and, under easy sail, skims leisurely along, tacking occasionally to give the funeral procession time to catch up. But if you want to see velocity, urgent speed, and precipitated haste, you have only to turn loose a greyhound in the wake of a jack rabbit. Pursued by a greyhound lie will "let himself out" in a manner that would astonish a prepaid half-rate message. If he is a rabbit that has never had any experience with a greyhound before, he will start off at an easy pace, but as he turns to wink derisively at what he supposes to be an ordinary yellow dog, he realizes that there is force in nature hitherto unknown to him, and his look of astonisment, alarm, and disgust, as he furls his ears and promptly declines the nomination, is amusing. Under such circumstances he goes too fast for the eye to follow his movements, and presents the optical illusion of a streak of jack rabbit a mile mid a half-long. THE BIGGER INDIANS. When California was first invaded by the crowd of gold diggers in 1849, beyond the few thousands who had collected round the Spanish missions in Lower California, and were in a state of the most abject subjection to their priests, there must have roamed over the wide region more than one hundred thousand In- 1 dians, living in a state of freedom and of na- 1 ture as complete as the elk, antelope or sage 1 rabbit, which furnished their then by no means t precarious livelihood. A headdress of feath- i ers with a scanty coat of paint on his face, i was the full dress of a brave, while a fringe of i bark or grass suspended from her waist fur- t nished a complete wardrobe for his squaw, s To this day the males go naked during the t summer^ if living at a distance from the ] whites. The men have no beards, this being 1 plucked out by the squaw as soon as it appears. 1 They all wear ornaments in their ears?or, at least, they did. The children had theirs bored r at an early age, larger and larger pieces of stick g being inserted, until the aperature was capable c of taking in one of the largest bones of a peli- t can's wing?five or six inches long, carved in j rude style, and decorated at the end with c crimson feathers, which is worn permanently, x The back hair of the man is fastened up in a 1 net and made fast by a pin of wood pushed t through both hair and net, the large end being 4 ornamented witli crimson feathers, obtained c from the head of the woodpecker, and some- o times with the tail feathers of an eagle. The t women, before the advent of the whitest wore t no hair nets or ornaments. Before being cor- li rupted by the rude gold-diggers and lumliermen, they were not a bad kind of people. The \ men were treacherous, but harmless enough, c unless ill-treated, and the girls frank and even f confiding ; but then the men always were ill- x treated, and the children could scarcely be ex- 1 pected to be very confiding to a pale-face, when \ from infancy he was the bugbear used to p frighten them into submission to the maternal s will. The boy has a bow and arrow put into ] his hands as soon as he can use them, while d the girls learn to weave blankets and make a bread of acorns. They are much more famil- r iar with th'e points of the compass than their \ neighbors northward. If a ball or an arrow s is lost the one who saw it fall will say : "To r the east ; a little north ; now three steps north- r east," and so on. Even in the darkest night a an Indian will fetch water from the spring, by following the direction of a companion .who g had been there previously?"Three hundred li steps east and twenty north." a They are excellent trackers of game, and i say it is impossible to mistake a white man's f foot, even bare, for it is deformed by the pres- v sure of boots and shoes, while the Indian's t foot is so formed that he can hold arrows with t his toes while making them. They wander r about from place to place, as the attractions of t game may incline, and hence are acquainted with a wide ranee of country. J] The Jean ette Survivors.? Mr. W. W.- o Danenhower, of Washington, has lately re- I ceived two letters from his son, Lieutenant t Danenhower, of the Jeannette Arctic explor- s ing expedition. The first one is dated at Bu- h lun, mouth of the Lena, November 9, 1881. s There is added a.postscript dated at Yakoutsk, e December 17. The trip up the river from Bu- a lun to Yakoutsk occupied thirty-six days, and p was made on sledges with dogs, reindeer and p horses. Lieutenant Danenhower describes the c journey as one full of severe hardships. There s were stations at intervals on the way, con- s structed of logs. He describes the last one of 1; these, seventeen miles from Yakoutsk, the 1: best one of the lot, as a small log building with v a cow-shed attached. It was composed of one \ room, in which were about twenty persons c when the party arrived. In the centre was the g body of a horse that had been killed for food b and brought into the room to thaw out. Dur- n ing the night that the party stopped at this f hut, Jack Cole, the boatswain, while laboring under abberat ion of mind, got up and started out to walk to New York to see his wife. The thermometer was GO degrees below zero. It required all of Lieutenant Danenhower's persuasive powers to induce him to come back into the hut. At Yakoutsk, Lieutenant Danenhower says he found a man who understood French, and was taken to the Governor who treated him with great kindness and consideration. He detailed a lieutenant with instructions to give the wants of the party special attention. They were quartered at a small hotel, conducted on the American plan. Lieutenant Danenhower 3peaks of his stay in Yakoutsk as having been exceedingly pleasant and Comfortable under the circumstances. On December 24th, the Sovernor sent an officer to Lieutenant Danenhower to ask him at what time the Christmas festivities usually began in America, and when informed that was usual to begin on Christmas eve, he sent his sleigh for the party to some to his residence for supper and to spend cne evening. In speaking of the terrible voyage of the party, Lieutenant Danenhower says they had to. travel 700 milt-js over the ice from the ship to the mouth of the Lena. They landed in shoal water and were compelled to wade two miles to land. The]'' were forced to travel 100 miles further before they reached shelter, and he says he was up five days and four nights without sleep or rest. He mentions the fact that out of the thirty-three composing the crew and officers of the Jeannette, only thirteen are known to be living, and one is known to be lead. PEOPLE ON THE HATTEBAS BANKS. The people of this region are of an amphibious nature, and live so much on and in the water that most of them, I am sure, are webfooted. They live mainly on fish, clams, oysters, crabs, terrapins and wild fowl. When ;hey leave home they go in a boat; and whether they go to court, or go courting, or to trade, )r to a mill, or to a funeral, they always go by jail. Their corn-mills are run by sails, and tome of them pump their water with windnills. They don't go up-stairs, but "go aloft;" when they go to bed they "turn in when ;hey are ill they are "under the weatherand vhen they are in robust health, they say they ire "bung up and bilge free." They speak of ;heirtrim-built sweethearts as "clipper-built." if one is a little stout they say she is "broad 11 the hoam " Ar she is "u:iHe aernss the trail lom." Many of tiiem have ship's cabin doors n their houses that slide on grooves; and to ;heir buildings they give a coating of tar, intend of painting them'. The "old woman" >lows a conch-shell when dinner is ready ; and hey measure time by "bells." Their babies ire not rocked in-cradles, but are swung up in lammocks.* They chew black pigtail tobacco, ind drink a wild tea called ' 'Yeopon." They nanure the land with sea-grass, and bury their am potatoes in the sand-hills. When they rant a doctor they hang a red flag against a lillside asa signal of distress, If he don't ome, "because the wisd ain't fair," they take i dram of whisky and copperas, soak their web) feet in sea water, "turn in," and trust o luck. If they die they will be buried on the op of a sandridge; and when you see several ail-boats on the water in procession, with a * lag at half-mast, you are looking at a funeral. IThey ornament their houses with whales' ribs . ind jaws, sharks' teeth, -sword-fish snouts, levil-fish arms, saw-fish swords six feet long, niniature ships, camphorwood chests, spy [lasses, Honduras gourds, South American ariats, war clubs from the Mozambique Islinds, Turkish pipes, West India shells, sandalvood boxes, Chinese chessmen, Japanese faces, Madagascar idols, Australian boomerangs, md other strange, outlandish things. Their logqare raised on clams, muscles, offal of fish, md garbage; and their cattle wade out on the ?= ihoals for miles, where the water covers their xicks, to feed cn sea-grass, and if they are earned to the up-country, and fed on corn and 'odder, they will not live. Every man is cap;ain of some kind of a boat, and she is always jetter than any other boat in some way. "She s hard to beat; in a gale of wind," or "before ;he wind," or "beating to windward," or 'with the wind on the beam," or "she can lail closer to the wind," or "will carry sail ongest," or "is hard to beat in a light wind," >r "totes more stock," or she is a "big little wat," or "draws the least water," or "needs ess ballast," or "she is the newest," or "she las the best timbers," or "steers the best," or s a "lucky boat," or "stands up better," or leeds less sail than any other boat," or "she s best for fishing," etc. It may be that "she jomes about better than any other boat." She s bound to have something about her better ;han anybody else's boat. A PLEA FOR PLAIN ENGLISH. "The Origin. Use and Abuse of the English Language," was the subject of an interesting ecture delivered by Edward A. Freeman, the jistorian, recently at Haverford college. He old how the history of our tongue did not begin n "Rritnin hut awav hack in the old land from vhich England was settled?the land borderQg the ocean from Flanders to ScWeswig; hat, strictly speaking, the English is not i mixed tongue; that there was no time when he Saxon language was cast aside and the English took its place; and that it was Engish right through, although changed, as other anguages have changed! He spoke at considerable length on the manler in which foreign words got into our lan;uage and displaced good English words withiut cause. He said that Americans have reained many good English words which in England have teen turned out, although as to ithers we had best left them alone. The vord "fall" a season of the year, was an Engish word in use in America, but which had >een displaced in England by the Latin word 'autumn," and he told how an Englishman omplained in a letter to an English newspaper if the American use of this word, supposing hat it had been invented since the Declaraion of Independence. Each country has ;ept words which the other has lost. Mr. Freeman believed that any thought vorth the thinking about can be put forth learly in English, without the use of any breign help or the use of strange, out-of-the* /ay words, the jargon of diplomacy, etc. This und of talk is used by cunning people, who /ant to conceal what they think, and by silly leople, because they think it sounds fine. The peaker said that he was looking over a file of Jen jam in Franklin's newspaper, the other lay, and he noticed how he told his story, in i straightforward, witty, taking way, with lone of that forced humor and tall talk of vhich we have so much at present on both ides of the ocean." He Saw no use in "dolate" and "locate," and thought "begin" uucli better than "commence," "inaugurate" ,nd "initiate." To illustrate, he said he once wrote with a :ood deal of c&re this sentence: "The time iad now come when the man who had done ,11 this good to his native land was to undo t with his own hand." There was only one oreign word, "native," in the sentence; he night have used "father" land, but this was he other extreme. For the sentence "the ime had now :ome, <kc.?" he advised them lot to say "the period had now arrived when he individual ho had conferred, &c." Paganini's Kindness.?One cold Christnas day a poor blind man was playing on ^vilin and trying to earn a crust in one of the jondon streets, but somehow his tunes lacked he power to bring him any pence. There i;ood the blind man, cold and hungry, aloue in lis misery. Two gentlemen were passing and topped opposite the player, conversing a few uinutes. One of them approached the player, ,ud gently patting his back, said : "Won't the ?eople give you money ?" "No," was the reily, "they won't open their windows, it is too old." Well, lend me your fiddle, and I will ee whether they will open for me." The peaker took the violin and played a tune, the ike of which was never before heard, and ikely never to be heard again in a street. The rindowsr opened as if by magic, and money ras thrown out of them plentifully. The banner, having accomplished his purpose, . athered up the money, and, handing it to the lind player, said; "There, you can go home tow ; you have sufficient money to keeep you or one day at least." It was Paganiui 1 %