Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis >i. grist, proprietor, j Independent Jamiln Hetospaper: Jfor tjje promotion of tjje political, Social, ^grirnltnral and Commercial Interests of fjie Sontjt. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 28. YORKVILLE, S. C? THURSDAY, JIIISTE 22, 1882. 3STO. 25. ^elected foetrg. THE WIDOW'S STRATAGEM. The Widow Brown lived at the end of street, In a bouse of her own, snug and clean; While in a grim lodging just over the way There resided the Bachelor Green. Now, Widow B. looked upon Bachelor G. With a heartily covetous eye. And shesaid to herself: "To win Mr. G. I must really most earnestly try." The bachelor met the widow full oft, And quite frequently thought, when alone: "That widow would make the most sensible wife ? Of all women I ever have known." But Green was so bashful, he still held aloof From the prize he was anxious to take; Whilst wondered she still what course to pursue When a raid on his heart she should make. Till the widow one day in crossing a field, Met with poor Mr. Green at the stile, They stood as they met, one each side of the fence, And pleasantly talked for a while. Now the bachelor felt the occasion was fine To disclose to the widow his mind ; , Whilst she mentally vowed the capture of Green Ere the evening sun had declined. Still they spoke of the neighbors, the crops, and the heat. But the subject so close to each h>>art * XT A- AAlil.I Aivntinariti OA on noat ramft nn *."*OHUTJ UIIOU'UKi appi wavy ? nw nuuovv vmiciw wu And 'twas time that the couple should part. She mounted the steps and began to descend Ere be could enough courage command To step bashfully tip, and bashfully say : "Mrs, B, won't you give me your hand ?" Now here was a chance, and if it be lost No one knew if 'twould happen again ; The widow thus reasoned the moment she stood On the steps, at the end of the lane. So she modestly blushed; then said: ''Mr. G., You're'so sudden?I never would guess That you'd ask itofine? my hand !?goodness me! Have my hand ? O! most cortainly?yes 1" Mr. G. was astonished on hearing this speech ; m Still he felt the mistake not amiss, And gladly surrendered?aye, growing so bold At his conquest to seal with a kiss. Thus 'twas quickly arranged, and Mr. G. spared The pain of proposing out-square. ^ 'Tis years since the wedding?and yet they are shown As the model matrimonial pair. lite Jjfi'torn IcUcr. GRAND MOTHER'S MONEY. "Bless and save us, mother, what be ye doin'?" demanded Farmer Martin, in great amazement, as he came in at the kitchen door for a jug of molasses and water. "I'm a cleanin' house," said Mrs. Martin. If Mrs. Hosea Martin had been going to a i masquerade party she could scarcely have disguised herself more systematically. Her head was tied up in a roller towel, whose end, escaping behind, "streamed like a meteor to the troubled air," her portly figure was incased in a-eoarse working apron, her skirts were pinned up and her sleeves rolled high above the elbow. "Didn't know ye calkehted to commence to-day," said the farmer. "Well, I didn't exactly," owned his wife. "But the minute your mother made up her mind she'd have the horse and wagon and go over to Deacon Trudge's widow's to si>end the day, I made up my mind to begin house-cleanin'. You see, Hosea, you know yourself that Mother Martin is a pleasant old lady, and I set a deal of store by her, but she can't bear to have nothin' disturbed, and them files of old papers up in the garret, and heaps of rusty ? tins and old bottles down in the cellar, and the broken crockery back of the pantry door, that she always-say s she's going to mend wheu she gets time, and the barrels of rags in the storeroom she's goin' to sort over in a minute of leisure?" "What be you goin' to do with 'em ?" asked Farmer Martin, as his wife paused to draw a loner despairing breath. "They're gone!" said Mrs. Martin, with a roguish twinkle in her eyes. "Gone where ?" "Matilda sold the rags to a rag-man before grandma's wagon was out of sight." said the enterprising matron. The papers Elder Boxley gave me five dollars for, 'cause they dated back to President Zach Taylor's times, an' he said they'd be a curiosity for the Young Men's Reading Room. Much of a curiosity, indeed! And the crockery and the old tin cans and the bottles, as ain't good for nothin' under creation, I gave Bill Betts a quarter to take 'em down to the old well, by the stone fence, and fling 'em all in." "What 1" cried Mr. Mai-tin. "Fillin' up my old well, eh ? Where be I goin' to water the cattle d'ye s'pose ?" "It ain't but a little further to the brook," said Mrs. Martin, who was one of those bustling, authoritative females, who are a law unto themselves. "And that well ain't safe. Never was, since the curb rotted away !" "Many the gourd-shell of pure cold water I've drunk there, when the old house stood , close by, under the butternut tree," said the farmer, with a sigh, "afore we pulled it down and built the new one." "Well, ye won't never drink no more," said Mrs. Martin. "The water's most all run out since we dug the new well down here, and 1 rvenaatne cnuaren currying couuje siunea there all the spring, at a penny a hundred, to get the huckleberry pasture cleared out a little. And now the old truck has gone a-top of it? and a good riddance to two bad things at once, says I!" Mr. Martin groaqed. "Well, mother," said he, "you always did have your own way, and you always will, I I, s'pose. But what bothers me is?what will Grandma say ?" "I don't s'pose she'll be pleased," said Mrs. Martin, stirring vigorously at the pail of U ' whitewash. "But it's done, and it can't be j undone, and, after all, what is the use of turning one's house into a magpie's nest V" The farmer filled up his jug, and retreated to the remotest fastnesses of the timothy meadow, resolved to be as far as possible out of the way when the old lady came home. "Hetty likes her own way," said he. "And so does mother. And when Hint and steel comes together, there's most generally tire !" But poor Mother Martin came home in quite a different fashion from what they had expected. Struck down with apoplexy at the neighbor's house, she was carried back across her j own threshold?dead! And Mrs. Martin, who, in spite of their nm- j tual peculiarities, had been fond of her mother-in-law, wept real tears of genuine grief, and | audibly rejoiced that Grandma had never I known about the selling of the old papers, and ! the filling up of the ancieut well. So Mrs. Martin, senoir, was dead and buried ; ? in the old cemetery on the mountain side. "Strange, ain't it V" said Mrs. Deacon i Trudge. "Everybody s'posed old Mrs. Martin i had monev in the bank, and now there ain't a i p- sign of it to be found !" j "All fooled away in them deceivin' shares that her son Josiah was ruined with," said ; Miss Grundy. "Unbeknown to Hosea and j his wife ! That's the way it's gone, you may depend !" Hut Mr. and Mrs. Hosea Martin could not believe that Grandma could so far have, lost! her senses as to fritter solid money away like ; that. "As sure as you live, Hosea," said the wife, | "she's put it away somewhere ! in a stocking i or a bag, or up a chimblv, or under the bricks of the old kitchen hearth ! And it must be i found. For Matilda's sake ! Grandma always j said Matty was to have her money, and now j that she's engaged to Rufus Burton, and j all " "It's my private opinion, Hetty," said the ; farmer, shaking his head in a sort of discour- j aging way," that you sold that money, done j up in the rag bags !" "Nonsense 1" said Mrs. Martin, growing j !pale. "It might have been in the tiles of newspapers, laid flat and stitched down. 1 've heard tell o' such things ! And to speak the truth, Hosea, I've been to the Elder's and looked over every identical one of them papers. By " good luck the package hadn't even been untied. But there wasn't nothin' there but printer's ink! But the rags?oh, Hosea, I wouldn't know the man with the string of bells?and the rag-wagon from Job! And where he went or where he came from, the good Lord only knows J" UI reckon you'll find that the house-cleanin' came pretty' expensive," said Mr. Martin, dryly. Ail search proved unavailing. Nothing could be discovered of Grandma's money. No scrap of paper to afford a clew, no hidden hoard, not even a word of allusion to it, in the old lady's neatly kept memorandum book. And to Matilda's exquisite mortification, Mr. Rufus Burton, after a decent period of time had elapsed, delicately gave her to understand that he didn't feel able to marry at present, and that, sooner than bind her by the trammels of a long engagement, lie considered it better to release her from her troth !" "Just as you please," said Mattie Martin, with true New England spirit. And all the tears she shed were wept in secret, to the great disappointment of the neighborhood who were-looking out with some interest to see "if Matilda Martin would pine any, now that Rufe Burton had mittened her 1" But she didn't. Instead of that, she marriou Aivah Dpmt who had alwavs loved her from a child. k "I ain't college-learned like Rufe Burton," said he ; "but 1 love jrou, Matty, and I'll be a a good and true husband to you, see if I ain't." And the newly-wedded couple came to live with the Martins at the old homestead, for Hosea was getting old and rheumatic, and Mrs. Martin could not bear the idea of parting from her only daughter. Time crept by. Hosea Martin and his wife grew to be white-haired old people, and Alvah Dean had prospered on the farm, and built a new barn up on the hill, when one day he said to his cherry-cheeked wife: "Didn't there use to be an old well up somewhere near the big butternut tree, Matty, at the south side of the barn ?" "Of course" nodded Matty. "But the curb rotted away and mother thought it unsafe, so after the new well by the house was dug, they tilled it up." "I've a notion to open it again," said Alvah. "The water would be dreadful handy, now that we keep all the cattle there." "But," said Matty, "I seem to recollect that it ran dry after the new one was dug." "I guess we can strike water if we go deep enough," said Alvah. "Anyhow, I mean to try." The old well was reopened?although Alvah Dean remarked, with a groan, that all the old + f.ioVi in nvoci + imi uooiripil tr? llUVP 1>PP11 liokpd away there. "Bottles," said he. "And broken-nosed pitchers. And tin cans, half rusted away, and cobble stones, and goodness knows what all. Enough to set up a junk-shop with." "Ah," said Matty with a smile, "mother filled it up the same spring that she sold grandmother's money to the rag peddler that never came around again. At a cent and a half a | pound." "No use crying after spilt milk, my girl," said Alvah, bravely. "But I'm not crying," said Matilda, "I'm laughing. Don't you see?" Just then in came little Bess, the youngest, golden-haired darling of the flock. "Oh, mamma," she cried, "look at the lovely old cracked stone jug that came out of the old well. Mayn't me and Fanny have it to fix liquorice-water and strawberry wine in V Look ! The cork is sticking tight in it yet." "But it's cracked down the side, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Dean. "But we can putty it, mamma, like Mrs. Dutcher's best china bowl. Please, mamma, may we ?" urged the mite. Mrs. Dean took it up and looked curiously at it,?an old, high-shouldered jug of drab, with a sprawling pattern of blue dashed down the side. "I remember it well, said she. "It used to stand behind Grandma Martin's buttery shelf. - "? ' " a' - ^j. i:i I usea co iancy cue paueru was xmu a uiuc crab. And we " "Oh, mamma!" cried Bess, with a shriek; "oh, mamma!" For the handle had slipped through Mrs. Dean's fingers, and the jug fell with a crash to the ground. But the stoneware was strong, and it separated in two pieces, follwing the line of the crack. "It's stuffed full of funny bits of brown paper," cried Bess. Mrs. Dean gave a little scream, and grew very pale. "Grandmother's money!" she cried. "As true as you live and breathe, mother," to Mrs. Martin, who had come limping in on her crutch, "it's grandmother's money, put there ten good years ago!" It was true. The stone jug, lying almost at the top of the other debris, had kept its treasury dry any safe; and here, ten years after the old lady was dead and entombed, her secret hoard, always inteded for Matilda?had come to light. A thousand dollars. Not a great sum, perhaps, but wealth to these primitive people. And Rufus Burton, who had married a pretty shrew and just failed in the grocery business, groaned over "what might have been and Alvah Dean kissed his wife, and blessed God in his heart; and Farmer Martin chuckled at his ancient helpmeet, and remarked, with something of his old wagishness: "That house-cleaning' of yours like to have cost ye a thousand dollars, Hetty !" While Matilda said softly : Kloco fh/i /Iah i* nlrl nrr'inrlmntliM' X X CCV V Oil I/IVOO VUV uvut "lu . Shirley Browne. The Queen of Home.?Said I)r. Till mage in a recent sermon : "When you think of a queen you do not think of Catnarineof Russia, or Maria Therese, of Germany, or Mary Queen of Scotts. When you think of a queen you think of a plain woman who sat opposite your father at the table, or walked with him down the path of life arm in arm?sometimes to the thanksgivings' banquet, sometimes to the grave, but always side by side, soothing your little sorrows and adjusting your little quarrels, listening to your evening prayer, toiling with the needle or at the spinning wheel, and on cold nights tucking you up snug and warm. And then on that dark day when she lay a-dy- 1 ing. putting those thin hands that had toiled for you so long, putting them together in a dying prayer commending you to that God in whom she taught you to trust. O! she was the queen?she was the queen. You cannot think of her now without having the deepest emotions of your soul stirred, and feel as if you could cry as though you were now sitting in infancy 011 her lap, and if you could call her back to speak your name with the tenderness with which she once spoke, you would be willing now to throw yourself on the sod that covers her grave, crying, "Mother, mother!" Ah ! she was the queen. Your father knew it. She was the queen, but the queen in disguise. The world did not recognize it." Speak a Ciieekfui, Woki>.?Did you never go out in the morning with a heart so depressed and saddened that a pall seemed spread over all the world ? Hut on meeting some friend who spoke cheerily for a minute or two, if only upon indifferent matters, you iriui/lai'fiillu lirrlihinml V.vtih IlilVC IHl juuiorii >? v/uuviauuj iiijiivvii^u, ^iivn a child dropping into your house on an errand, has brought in a ray of sunshine which did not depart when lie went his way again. It is a blessed thing to speak a cheerful word when you can. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness'' the world over, and those who live in palaces are not exempt, and good words to such hearts "are like apples of gold in pictures of silver." Even strangers we meet casually by the way, in the travelers' waitingroom, are unconsciously influenced by the tone we use. It is the one with pleasant words on his lips to whom the stranger in a strange land turn for advice and direction in his i>erplexities. Take it as a compliment, if some wayfarer comes to you to direct him which street or which train to take; your manner has struck him as belonging to one he can trust. It is hard sometimes to speak a pleasant word when the shadows rest on our hearts ; but nothing will tend more to lighten our spirits than doing good to another. When you have no opportunity to speak a cheering word, you can often send a full beam of sunshine into the heart of some sorrowing, absent friend, by sitting down and writing a good, warm-hearted letter. j |flisrfUimcou5 |te?diug. | THE IlAN'Jll. "The Banjo," remarked a prominent young Professor of this instrument, "or, properly shaking, the word banjo, is a corruption of j the Latin word bandore, which may be briefly, J though not definitely, stated in English as banjo, a stringed musical instrument." Scientific research has proven the origin of the banjo of a very recent date. An instru-; ment, bearing a striking similarity to the mod- j ern banjo was found in Egypt, and subse- j quently, it is stated, another was discovered | in the Pyramids. The instrument in use to- [ day, however, is so great an improvement over that of the ancient date, that only close com-; parison would succeed in establishing their ! similitude. It is, however, to the credit of j the minstrelsy that the banjo became a popu-! lar musical instrument, and its almost exclu- j sive use from the period of its early advent! was confined to this new feature in the way of j musical entertainments. "How came the banjo to be so closely allied j with the colored people ?" was propounded. "Regarding that point," replied the Professor, "it is to be said that the banjo is an instrument of varied prices?the cheapness of j j some grades making them attainable by the ' I poor classes?and the wonderful adaptability | of its music to the plantation melodies of the I southern slaves is a further reason. The ban-! jos used at that time, however, were much inferior to the fine instruments of the present." It was not until during the war and later that the banjo excited the music-loving world. The crude and inferior instrument soon gave | place to a better one, and in the hands of an ! accomplished player at that time, notably Jo-1 seph Sweeney, familiarly known as "Old Joe," the banjo made rapid progression in the musical world. "To what would you ascribe the banjo's present popularity ?" "Listen to this," and without further replying, the Professor dashed off a few rhapsodies of low sweet strains, alternated with brilliant staccato effects. "That," remarked the Professor, "is the secret of the banjo's success. When it is thoroughly understood and wellplayed it is one of the most charming of instruments. i\s already said, it has been only of late years that it has received its merited recognition in the musical world. In the first place the minstrelsy appropriated it in their negro impersonations, and adapted it to all their songs and dances, principally in their clog dancing. From this latter source the fashionable outside world, thoroughly appreciative of its varied musical properties, adopted it as a pet instrument." "This appears to be a fine instrument," remarked the reporter, holding it with as much scientific knowledge as a raw recruit would a j musket at his first drill. "Ilow do they value ! in price ?" "Vou Hv.if 5e n crrtrwl instrument, hilt there I are a great many finer ones manufactured. Tliey can be purchased at all prices?from a drumhead at $1.50 to the extra superior article, $75 and $100. "What are the valuable qualities ?" "There are two grades of banjos, valuing from S5 to S50. The banjos that sell under $5, it may be said, are made for sale only. The grades or qualities have been designated by the manufacturers respectively, "cloudy" and "transparent heads." Professional banjo players generally perfer the "cloudy" or "milky" heads, which choice can hardly be accorded as anything significant of superiority over the j transparent heads; for, on the other hand, many persons show decided preference for the ; latter grade of manufacture. There is, how- j ever, one slight advantage of the "cloudy" ( head over the "transparent" drum, and that ; is the former's durability, which fact is suf- j ficient to strongly recommend its use in the ministrel fraternity. * "Is the valuation of a banjo adjudged by t he quality of its head V" "Oh, no ; it is the finish of the instrument j and its style of superior workmanship that , fixes its value." In the society world one will be astonished j to find such beautifully made banjos. Some ] persons have them executed in a style and j j r?ff.i,.rllooc nf nnet TIlP II iotpl-nlsitpd OF ! IllliOIJ U-^(UVIiVllO Ui OV/UV. A ?tv/ou. silver rim that securely holds by the aid of . brackets of either of the same material is ar- . tistically replaced by a gold rim, with silver , or gold brackets. Again, the higlv polished j ] and generally decorated frame, which serves , for the drum, is handsomely carved or inlaid ! with precious stones?diamonds, pearls, rubies and emeralds?while the neck is also con- j venieritly used for expensive and artistic adornment. These instruments, of course, are made to order, and command high prices, ( according to the amount of labor required in |; construction and the quantity and quality of i j the precious stones used. These instruments j are mostly, if not entirely, found in the fash- > ionable world, and are used by ladies. So ! ( much care is required in their manufacture j that dealers hold this extra line of goods at j ] not less than ?15, and no instrument is made ( to order under that amount. , Observing the awkward manner in which ; the reporter held his instrument, the Profes- \ sor languidly remarked : uIt is plain you know j nothing of the banjo. Do not catch hold of ] it like you were holding a crab by the claw! Here let me show you." 1 The right foot was thrown over the left and the instrument was scientifically held at almost arm's length. The musical scale was ! i miiftlv run iind iii si few minutes the lively ! < music of the "Puquense Greys" made the 1 reporter imagine a brass band had suddenly burst in the room, when in an instant the i1 loud notes died away in the distance and the j i low numbers of tinkling music forcibly re- j I minded him of a moonlit-lake and two in a ; 1 boat. I i "Isn't that varied music ?" queried the mu- j 1 sician, stopping a moment to "tune-up." I; It appears that the banjo has] superseded j I the guitar to a great extent as an effectual , i instrument. Effective music is produced sev-11 eial ways. The tremolo effect, which gives j 1 such a sweet blended tone, is produced by the j i forefinger of the right hand. The heavy play- j 1 ing, or "stroke" is produced by the quick 1 movement of the forelinger, protected by a 1 "thimble," made of silver, which gives the ] spirit and musical finish to the marches. ( This method of "stroke" playing is confined j principally to the professional players, and 1 the effective marc A music by the minstrelsy, < I is produced by this means, notably may be j mentioned the "German Fifth," "Duquense 1 i Greys," the "Twenty-second Regiment," and : | many others. : Pkooiikssoftiik Wokld.?The whole sur-; ! j face of our planet has only been known about ; a hundred years, and till our own day to get | i news from all parts of it to one given spot > would certainly have required a year. The j President of the United States delivers his 11 ! message, and within three hours newspapers in all parts of the world have printed it word ! ; for word. For 2,<KK) years every fabric in use has lieen twisted into thread by human fingers, ! and woven into stuff by the human hand. Machines and steam engines now make 10,' 000 shirts in the time formerly occupied bv j making one. For two thousand years man has got no better light than what was given ! by r!,eh, tallow or oil. lie now has gas and I elc . icily, each light of which is equal to ; hundreds and thousands of candles. Where there used to be a few hundred books there 1 ; are now 100,000; and the London newspapers of a single year consume, we dare say, more 11y|x* and paper than the printing presses of j the whole world produced from the day of Gutenburg to the French Revolution. You i may buy a good watch now for as many sliil1 .... :? ...let Miiiiiiilu .mil ?i L'tiifn I IlIJ^D (ID il unru t*/ uv/ou p/uimu, UMVI (V mill V worth a week's labor is now worth the labor of one or two hours. The tisli eaten in Paris is caught in Torbay; or a loaf of bread is grown in California ; and a child's penny toy is made in Japan; a servant girl can get a better likeness of herself for six peace than j her mother or grandmother could have got for ! t'tiO; the miners of the north, they say, drink I champagne and buy pianos, and travel a hundred miles for a day's holiday. The brigade | of the Guards with breechloaders would now j decide the battle of Waterloo, or the battle, of Blenheim, in an hour, and the "Devasta-; tion'' would sink all the navies which fought at the Trafalgar and the Nile. In old days, if a regiment were needed (say in Delhi or in New Zealand,) it could hardly have been summoned and placed there within six months or a year. It could now be done in live or six weeks. Queen Elizabeth, they say, ruled over less than 5,000,000 subjects, and Queen Anne perhaps over less than 10,000,000. Queen Victoria enjoys the loyal devotion of at least 250,000,000. 13ess counted the total revenues of the government on one hand (in millions); Anne could do it on two hands. Queen Victoria as Empress disposes of one hundred and fifty millions.?London paper. EGYPT. The present Khedive of Egypt, Mohamed Tewfix, is the sixth ruler since Mehemet Ali, the founder of the dynasty, who was appointed governor in 1800, and soon after made himself absolute master of the country by force of arms, lie was the recognized ruler of Egypt from 1811 to 1848. The father of the present Khedive, Ismail I., was recognized by the Sultan by firman of 27th May, I860, obtained on the condition of his paying an increased tribute to the Sultan's civil list. It was from Ismail I. that M. de ^.e^seps obtained the required concessions for the Suez canal. The shares which Ismail held in the canal were sold to the English government in 1875 for t ?in: TJ..4 UOOllL IOUL" UlllllUlia. UlU/ uii; J.Uf^c sum nc thus received was not sufficient to relieve him from his embarrassments, and he was compelled to abdicate in 1879, under pressure of the French and English governments. The present Khedive, by a decree of November, 1879, placed the administration of Egypt under the supervision of the governments of France and England, represented each by a controller-general, invested with large powers, and responsible only to their own governments. By another decree of April, 1880, the present Khedive appointed an international commission of liquidation, composed of seven members. The commission was invested with power to examine the whole financial situation of Egypt, and draw up a law of liquidation regulating the relations between Egypt and her creditors. England, France, Germany, Austria, and Italy pledged themselves to accept such a law of liquidation. The present defiant attitude of Arabi Bey, the utter helplessness of the Khedive, and the inability of the French and English squadrons to land a sufficient force just now, are the main features in the present crisis in Egypt. Arabi Bey, the War Minister, raised a revolt in opposition to the levying of a very harsh tax with which to repay, the money borrowed by the late Khedive from money lenders in France and England, to further his pleasures. The present Khedive, as is well-known, is but the creature of the Powers. As a result of this revolt, Arabi Bey was removed from office, and his expulsion from the country was demanded by England and France, with which demand the present Khedive was very anxious to comply. The recalcitrant Minister, however, had the people with liira, and so emphatic was their demand that he should lie restored and that Egypt should be governed by Egyptians and in the interest of the people rather than of foreign countries, and so great a pressure was brought to bear upon the Khedive?who was himself threatened witli arrest and forcible deposition unless lie complied? that lie was forced to "bow to the will of the nation," restore Arabi to his office, and virtually yield the government into his hands. This is the present situation of affaire. What England and France will do about it, remains to be seen ; but, whatever the outcome of the present complication, the Egyi>tiuns have taught the world one unexpected lesson, they they are not the lazy, passive, unambitious people which they have been credited with being. They have heretofore been looked upon as a nice of ease, and careless of how they are ruled or who ruled by, so long as they were i>erniitted to live in peace. This revolt of Arabi Bey, and the energy with which lie has been supported shows that the Egyptians are as ready to resist what they regard as tyranny and oppression as are natives of other countries, and that they are as restive under foreign control as are nations heretofore inclined to look upon them as an indolent, inferior people, fit only to be ruled by despots, and utterly unable to govern themselves. Arabi Bey may finally be overcome, but he has already forced the world to accord him respect, and if lie remains firm, and, in case he is driven to tight for what he considers the just rights of himself and his people, he makes a good fight this respect will be heightened into general admiration. The question naturally arises, can Egypt fight? The normal force amounts to 12,000, which can be readily brought up to 45,000. The Bedouin contingent at present refuses to obey the summons of Arabi Bey. But if they lire persuaded to join him he would be able to place in the field some 120,000 fighting men. It. is clear that France and England, if not Turkey, ;ire bound to uphold the present ruler af Egypt, and will do so with the approval of the European powers. But it is not improbable that Arabi Bey may solve the present difficulty by the summary method familiar to Orientals, and put the Khedive out of the way. Flis removal would, it is supposed, relieve the taxpayers from the obligations which he entered into with France and England for the payment of debts which were mainly contractthrough the reckless extravagance of his father, Ismail I. ? How Southerners Fought.?The following is an extract from a graphic description >1' the battle of Stone River, by M. Quad, in the Detroit Free Press: Sill's brigade was posted on a ridge covered ivitli cedars and young oak trees. The ground in front had a slope down into the cleared ields, and he had three batteries posted along lis lines. It was a terribly strong position, i stronger one than Hancock had at Gettysjurg, and the Federals laughed in grim defi nice as the first line of gray swept into tlie ield a quarter of a mile away. Now the batteries opened! Eighteen guns break into a roar which makes the chimneys in Murfreesboro tremble. Not a shot or shell is usednothing but the murderous iron slugs and bullets which grind and tear through the flesh like the teeth of a wild beast. Swaths ten feet wide are cut through the Confederate lines, and whole regiments are seen to drop down to escape the lire. Then the infantry uided its fire, and the jaws of hell were wide open. Then followed the most singular sight aver witnessed upon the field of battle. Whole regiments of Confederates cruwleil fwtcanl on hmuh and knees! They crept through the soft soil of the old cotton field and up the slope covered with leafless shrubs and dead grass?crept almost under the thundering cannon, and there they fought with the llames from Sill's muskets burning their clothing. "What Causes Hain Stoiois.?It is a principle of physics that action and reaction are equal. If the increased solar energy actually increased the average temperature of the earth during the past summer and winter, literally burning up the great island of Australia, it is not strange that the reaction chills the month of May, and deeply affects humanity with the unaccustomed dampness. The unusual cold and rain follow per force. The sun luis licked up from the sea an unusual quantity of vapor. Condensing, the air is robbed of heat aud there is a settled chill. On the Atlantic coast there is a special cause for chill winds and fierce storms. The warm and open winter has caused ? ..< A (Ill tiill'J v nmikhig. 11J * vl aiiuu iucj in Uiii 111 a o Hay anil along tlie coast of Labrador, so the Northern Atlantic is at a very early date filled with vast islands of floating ice, lowering the temperature of both the water and the air. The lowering of the temperature occurs before the sun has assumed full sway, not enabling the earth and ocean to accumulate any considerable amount of warmth. The wind from the east has an icy breath, as though blown from the ice crags floating in the Atlantic. It will be remembered that last summer England was colli and damp, being fairly deluged with rain. In the autumn the Atlantic was the scene of the most terrific storms on record. Now it seems to be the lot of our continent to suffer from the great reaction. How long it will continue is a question of interest. It has certainly continued long enough to bring unnumbered ills to suffering humanity. Our spring is not a spring at all, but, as Richter savs. only a winter painted green. CURIOUS HISTORY. When George Washington, who, though only twenty-five had won renown by his gallantry under Braddock, visited New York, he was the guest of Beverly Robinson, a young Virginian, who had come hither a few years previously and married an heiress. The batter (Jane Phillipse) owned a manor on the west side of the Hudson twenty miles in extent. This, however, was but half the paternal estate. On the east side of the river was a simi lar tract belonging to the other sister?Mary Phillipse. The last mentioned tract contained the Phillipse manor house, which is at present the City Hall of Yonkers* Mary Phillipse was at the time above mentioned, living with her sister, and was rendered, by wealth and personal attractions, one of the leading toasts of the day. Report says that Washington offered his hand to the heiress, but was refused, as she did not care to burv herself on n. Virorinia. iilnntaf.inn A nnt.hpr snifcnr Gill)!",. Morris of the British army, was more successful, and having won an opulent bride, he immediately constructed a mansion suitable to his new position as lord of the manor. Yonkers was too far from the city, and hence he selected the present site. Carpenters were brought from England and the building was erected in a slow and solid manner, its date of completion being 1700. The lord of the manor lived here in grand style until the revolution, however broke up their establishment. When Washington was expelled from New York he passed several daysin this vicinity, during which time the Morris House was his headquarters. His old ilame had taken refuge with some Tory families in the vicinity and her husband (now a Colonel) was in the British army. After the war both went to England, where Mary Morris died in 18*20 at the age of four score. She always felt a deep interest in Washington, and having lived to see her former lover become the chief captain of the age, she survived him twenty years, but never mentioned his name without admiration and almost emotion. Perhaps, like Maud Muller, she sometimes said to herself, "It might have been." After the revolution the entire manor was confiscated and the proi>erty was sold. Before this took place, however, Washington visited the place in company with some of his Cabinet, and a grand dinner was served by the tenant. They were deeply interested in the associations of that fearful scene where one disaster after another awaited the patriotic army. The Morris estate afterward had several owners, and was at last purchased in 1810 by Stephen Jumel, a retired French merchant, the price paid being $10,000. He died in a few years, leaving his wife sole owner, anil tli is woman has criven thenlacea notoriety far greater than its previous record. Madame Jumel was fascinating and beautiful in early life, but in later years displayed many vagaries, and as her years were prolonged to ninety they were marked by many of the weaknesses of old age. She and her husband had lived several years in Paris, where they gathered many curiosities which still adorn the ancient mansion. Visiting the place recently, I passed through an ancient gate and followed the road, which leads from the turnpike, till I reached the portico which, as has been remarked, has a grand prosi>ect. On entrance one is struck with the breadth and dignity of the hall, which is rich in relics, botli of furniture and art. Among the latter is a portrait of Madame Jumel with her family, and also a picture of Aaron Burr, who became her second husband. Other works of art adorn its walls combining the past and the present in a very interesting manner. Texas Cattle.?Westward from Houston the country becomes drier, though there is still much low prairie. All along the road through this region one sees many cattle, and soon learns the meaning of the accounts, so often repeated, of cattle being able to "live out all winter, without feed or shelter." They do live so; at least, some of them do. Many die from starvation. I saw their bodies everywhere, and many of those still alive were wretchedly emaciated. Hundreds of them were, to use an expressive Southern phrase, "on the liftthat is when they laid down they are so weak that they are unable to get up; but if they were helped to get up they could walk about and feed, until weariness or weakness prompted them to lie down again, when the process had to be repeated. I saw a great number of dead animals in the* pools and ditches, where they had come to drink, J. 1. 4.~ 4 <111U UeiJlg LUU VVfilK LU SUUgglC tillWUL^li tuc mud they hud fallen into the water and befln drowned. The owners appeared generally to hold the same cheerful philosophy with a man with whom I talked at Corinth, Mississippi, who though he did not lose much when hundreds of his sheep died from want of food Or shelter, because, as he said "we git the wool." So those Texas cattle men seemed satisfied with the hides. "Hundreds and thousands of the cattle die when the grass begins to comeso I was told everywhere. The explanation is that the cattle, weak from starvation and ravenous with hunger, eat excessively of the fresh grass. They have no "dry feed" to serve as a corrrective, and the surfeit of green food kills them. The whole system and plan of cattle-raising in this State seems to me to be enormously wasteful, yet the industry is a source of wealth. It would however, be much more profitable with better methods; and as population becomes more dense, and the rage of cattle circumscribed, these will of necessity be adopted. Nearly every pursuit in the South is to a great extent carried on, or rather goes 011, with similar wastefulness of method and result. Of course no business thus managed produces so much as it would if prosecuted with even moderate energy, foresight and prudence. I should not like to express my opinions upon such mattters so forcibly as Southern men express theirs everywhere.?Jane Atlantic. Good-Hkakted.? Never was a term more generally abused than this one. Spendthrifts, lavish and oily-tongued persons are said to be good-hearted, when in truth they never had j enough goodness within them to know the I meaning of the words?when they are abso! lately evil-hearted, and live their prodigal life but for this false praise, and to figure as leaders in the moral corruption of all with whom they come in contact. The free spending of monev. constant self-nraise. and a slimy j ---O %! 1 [ palavering is too often allowed to cover the j sins of a base and malicious person, without realization of the cost. The cunning and I artful sinner is the worst of villains, and j should in either sex, be promptly turned over, I by all right minded people, to the criminal | sphere, in justice to honesty and innocence. I It is very well to say one should steer clear i of the wiles of such people, and not be eni snared by them, etc., but that should not lij cense their deleterious influence, even if holding one's self aloof from them would ensure safety from their injuries, which it does not. (treat flatterers are often really malicious people, who gain their ends by the credulity of their victims. They prey upon the weak. Yet their apparently, frank, open way, is j often taken for good-heartedness. Continuj ously lavish j>ersons cannot well be good-hearted ; egotism is too prominent a feature in j their character; they are neither friends to j themselves nor anyone else ; they are too selJ fish to spend their money in a creditable mau! ner on themselves, but that would not matter | so much if, in spending it on others, they j would refrain from doing positive harm. A j jovial spendthrift, a cunning slanderer, or | other artful and evil-doer, should not be conJ sidered good-hearted for freely and recklessly squandering nis money. i\. man anuuiu not be tliouglit benevolent for having voluntarily paid the expense of a night's revelry and dei banch for himself and companions, when he | would probably not give a farthing to aid a worthy one in distress, except such ones were watching the act as would not fail to advertise his gift. Let us not misplace the words goodhearted, and thereby lessen their value. Costly Duess.?'The love of dresskeeps everybody on the strain. The poor strain to keep up with the well-to-do people ; the well-to-do strain to keep up with the rich ; and she rich strain terribly to keep up with one another. The only ones exempt from the pressure are the few who are too fully pauperized to have any social ambition, and the very few at the other extreme who are too lich for rivalry. We may add a third class, composed of sensible persons who abstain from this insane competition on principle. Two questions absorb our women. The first is, What did she wear ? The second is, What did it cost V It is not so much a matter of good taste and of true and a?sthetic effect, but badly and coarsely a question of cost. Diamonds are prized not so much for their beauty as for the money they represent. If the husband and father should show signs of worry because the outgo exceeds the income, it cannot be helped?one must keep up with the neighbors. Put on the steam ! it is a fast age, and it will not do to fall into the rear. Drive on. The crash may come, but let us have a good time first. We must keep up with the times. Broken fortunes, debt, bankruptcies are not the only and the worst fruits of this folly. There is something worse than squandering money. A noble woman is of more value than a colossal fortune. This rage for costly dress takes the heads and hearts, the time and the talent of a vast number of our women who were born for better things. They are ruled and absorbed by the jeweller and the milliner. They give their days and w. J. -1 mi 1. ~ nignis 10 aress. iuey ucuuujc urac uuucuh boards of fashion, and their high and noble calling is forgotten.' An Inviting Entrance.?Strangers are always agreeably impressed or otherwise by the out,ward appearance of and particularly by the entrance to the home. No matter how dearly friends may love, or what allowances they may make for your household cares and anxieties, excusing you in their minds for any shortcomings of neatness or order, with strangers it is different. They, having only the outside to judge from, are not always slow in forming an opinion as to the status of the inmate of the house from the outside look of it. When the pavement is well swept, the front steps neat, the door invitingly open, else properly closed, the windows clean, neat and orderly ; the brasses, if brasses there are, well brightened, then the idea of home comfort at once takes possession of the mind, and the impression of that house being really a home will remain so long as it is remembered. While, on the other hand, an untidy, littered or dirty entrance gives a feeling of discomfort, which even the most delightful interior fails to dispel. The thought of the dirt will continually serve to crowd out pleasanter associations. To keep the entrance neat, daily care is necessary, and the early morning is the better time to sweep, scrub and scour. Brasses and doorknobs and plates ought to be brightened at least weekly, while windows need frequent washing and polishing. They cannot be kept too bright. Plants in the basement window, or .011 the ledge of the upper ones, add greatly to the homelike appearance of a city home. In the country the entire front yard is taken in by the eye resting on the entrance to the i house, and the work of the gardener supple j ments that of the housekeeper, and either de| tracts from or adds to it, as the case may be. Thread and Needle Tree.?The luxury of a thread and needle tree! Who can estimate the comfort of such helpfulness at one's very door V Fancy the delight of matron or maiden dwelling under such overshadowing! Odd as it may seem to us, there is upon Mexican plains just such a forest growth. ; Imagine a "sewing-bee" gathered under such j fair foliage! No need of spools forever rolling hither and thither; no call for dainty reels i compactly wound with snowy thread. If | there is a seam ready for busy fingers or an api pealing rent, just step outside the door of the j much favored Mexican house-mother, lay your j hand upon a slender thorn needle pushing itself persuasively from the tip of a dark green leaf, draw it carefully from its delicate sheath, slowly unwinding with your hand the thread, a strong well-rounded liber, already attached to the needle, and oh! so tenderly l folded by Mother Nature as to hold within itself possibilities of a long stretch of the cord. Travelers are enthusiastic over the resources of the maguey tree; and of its l>eauty no less, telling us of "clustering pyramids of flowers towering above dark coronals of leaves." The roots well prepared are a most savory dish ; with its leaves may be make a "thatching fit for a queen," and no prettier sight can be met than the cottages of Mexican peasants so exquisitely crowned. The rich leaves also afford material for paper, and from the juices is distilled a favorite beverage. From its heavier fibers the natives manufacture strong cords and coarse strong cloth. No wonder the maguey tree of tropical climes has attained i i ? .1. t ir woriu-wiue iame :?imrjjtt o jjiitiu. - - - ? "Where There are no Sunsets.?Tlie following is Congressman Cox's description of a scene at the North Cape : "Here in the uppermost point in Europe and at the midsummer season there is no sunset ! Bring burial weeds and sable plume, for there is no sunset ! Lift the funeral songs of woe and tell through the land that sunset is no more, and yet I live! And must I now be disenchanted ? Do I live, and is sunset no more V Do I see a country where the sun is going down, amid a scene equal, if not sui>erior, to that Ohio evening years ago, which I tried to portray with my poor pen, and yet it does not go down ? Was it not enough that for ten long days there was no night for us, and that the sun by gliding and glowing in the north without any respite had disturbed our customary experiences? The reaction might be too sudden. The failure of an old orb, to set might?well, there is I no telling the cataleptic and other dire consej quences. But there was the patent fact; here I were clouds and lights ; all the hues of the 1 prism in splendid display, and yet no sunset after all ! The unsetting and unsetable sun I Midnight, and yet all aglow 1 No gas, no can| dies, no stars, no moon?only the fiery orb and its traveling clouds of glory. "But is not the sun all sufficient without other fires ? If he stays up and sets not, what more can the human heart desire ? What wonder that the oriental mind clothed the sun with the majesty of divinity, and that the Magi saluted his coming with worship, ;ia the source of life ? What wonder that his beams I evoked music from Memnou ? Is he not the I | creator of health, and the great benefactor? And we have found a land where he will not I rest !" Mishephksentation.?A well-meaning ; busy-body, who cannot state the simple truth, i but must exaggerate everything he rejieats, is I capable of doing a great deal of mischief, i This carelessness is a sin of no small rnagnij tude. A man's duty to Hod and his fellows . I requires him to lie careful; for what else were ! ! brains and common sense given him? Of; I course that other class, the malignant scandal- j 1 mongers who take a fiendish pleasure in pro- j I moting strife, who deliberately garble men's ; j words and twist their sentiments, is in the ! i minority, and people have a very decided opin- j I ion regarding them. Most men misrepresent i | because they don't seem to think that care in i ! speaking the truth is a preeminent duty. The I j effect of this careless misrepresenting of I others is seen everywhere. Its effect on the : individual is to confirm him in a habit of j j loose, distorted and exaggerated statement, ; j until telling the truth becomes a moral impos-; I sibility. No other thing causes so many long- j ; standing friendships to lie broken, so many j 1 dissension in churches, so much bitterness in j | communities and so much evil everywhere. It i is an abuse that calls for the rebuke of every ; i honorable man?a rebuke that should be given j ' not'only in words whenever occasion demads, j ; but by example. Let us aim to sj>eak nothing j : but the simple truth. No Time.?You think you have no time to | devote to certain pursuits : but if you are ; really interested in them you will contrive an opi>ortunity to gratify your wishes. Scores [ of wives and mothers are busied constantly with their family cares, but not one in every score loves music enough to steal time for nrapfinp Hundreds of vounir men are forced by stress of circumstances to work hard for daily subsistence, but only one in a thousand, perhaps, couquers the difficulty of his position, and makes a name for himself. This one might not have found his way easier or its upwards steps less tiresome, but he wanted to succeed, and so wanting let nothing needful be crowded out. CHILDREN'S DROLLERIES. I The interest shown in the droll doings and i amusing observations of children is proved by | the success of recent works on the subject. | Many of us have some time or another heard j children come out with as comical things as any, invented or otherwise, that we see j chronicled. Not long since, a corresjKmdent i sent to a provincial paper an anecdote of the ! kind referred to, of which his six-year old l>oy j was the hero. He says: I keep a shop and sell ! fancy goods. A gentleman came in to buy J something. It was early, and my little hoy i and I were alone in the store at the time. In order to get change for the customer I had to go up stairs to my cash box. Before doing so I went into the little room ajoining the store and said to my boy,? "Watch the gentleman, that he doesn't steal anything." And I put him on the counter. As soon as I returned he sang out,? "Pa, he didn't steal anything. I watched him all the time." Children's questions are often no less embarrassing than they are amusing, as may be instanced in a conversation respecting a wedding that was soon to take place. At breakfast the next morning he recalled the subject by asking,? "Papa, what do they want to give the bride away for ? Can't they sell her?" A little one returning from the "Zoo" through Regent's Park with a friend of the writer, pointed to some flowers growing there, ' ? J :? ;<> +i,f-mio nncu mean. ClIlU imjUUCU 1L til CJ T. uv IKIU.V v...U ing, of course, with his mind on. the animals lie had just seen, the reverse of wild. At a whale exhibition a boy is said to have asked his mother if the whale that swallowed Jonah had as large a mouth as the one liefore them, why didn't Jonah walk out at one corner. "You must think Jonah was a fool. He didn't care to walk out and get drowned," was the quick reply of a younger brother. A lady, while admiring the stare on a bright night in a tropical climate, was suddenly asked in the most innocent way by her little I son of five years, if those were the nails that held up heaven. Tup: Andre Monument.?The monument projected and erected at Tappan, X. Y., by Cyrus W. Field, to the memory of Major Andre and which was blown from its bases several weeks ago by dynamite, has toppled over, and now is only a monument to Mr. Field's folly. The latest ebulition of the sensitive Tappanians is the following inscription suspended on a pole, placed on the site of the demolished monument: "In memory of Cyrus W. Field, humanitarian and philanthropist, in whose life was exemplified the broadest, purest and most perfect love, and about whose soul were entwined virtues the most beautiful, aspirations the most noble and sentiments the most tender and sympathetic, as a token of the appreciation in which they hold that godlike charity which enabled him, in obedience to the Divine injunction and despite the infirmities of the fiesh, to love his enemies and to do good to those who despised him, this monument has been reverently raised by his fellowcitizens of the great republic which gave him birth and in the perpetuation of whose free institutions he expended his life, his fortune and his sacred honor, with the hope and belief that all who strive to follow in his illustrious footsteps will receive a like reward in life and similar honors in death." On the reverse side was a drawing of a scaffold with a noose hanging down. Underneath were these lines: "He is not dead but sleepeth. First in peace, first in patriotism, and first in the pockets of his countrymen." A New West Point Arrival.?A correspondent of the Providence Press, describing life at West Point, says: The prospective candidate, who, armed with his credentials, arrives at "the Point," is met at the wharf by a sentinel, who conducts him to the adjutant's office, there to record his entrance into small and great tribulations. The poor fellow, who has just left the endearments of home, becomes, for a time, one of an inferior caste, toward whom, too often, the finger of derision is pointed, and over whom the drill-master flourishes, with snobbish zeal, his brief authority. Hp is the subiect of low taunts and silly at tempts at wit on the part of elder cadets. lie is called a "tiling," "a conditional thing," and a "plebehe is crowded, five in a room, with a floor and a blanket for a bed; lie is twice or thrice a day sqnad-drilled in "eyes right" and "left face," in "forward march"and in the intricate achievements of "mark time" and "about face," is drummed up and drummed down, drummed to meals and drummed to bed, all with arithmetic for a diversion. That is, indeed, a harsh ordeal for a young man who is not blessed with good nature and good sense, but with these excellent endowments it soon and smoothly glides 011 with a harmless memory. Names of Dry Goods.?Many kinds of dry goods possess old English names which are used, more or less corrupted, throughout the world. The origin of these old names is given by Mx George Birdwood as follows: Damask refrom the city of Damascus: satin from Zaytown, in China; calico, from Calcutta ; and muslin from Mosul. Buckram derived its name from Bochara. Fustian comes from Fostat, a city of the Middle Ages, from which the modern Cairo descended. Taffeta and tabby, from a street in Bagdad, Cambric is from Cambrai, Gauze has its name from Gaza ; baize from Bajsc, dimity from Damietta, and jeans Jaen. Drugget is derived from a city in Ireland, Drogheda. Duck, from which Tucker street in Bristol is named, comes from Torque, in Normandy. Diaper is not from D'Ypres, but from the Greek diaanron, figured. Velvet is from the Italian vcllute, woolv (Latin veil us?a hide or j>elt.) Shawl is the Sanscrit floor, for shawls were first used as carpets and tapestry. Bandana is from an Indian word, meaning bind or tie, because they are tied in knots before dyeing. Chintz comes from the Hindoo word ehett. Delaine is the French "of wool." A Pretty Story ok Olk Bull.?Christine, a Swedish servant in a well-known Boston family, narrates the following incident in tlielife of Ole Hull, told her by the parties interested, who were of her friends : On revisiting his native land, the great violinist met in a large city a young peasant woman bathed in tears. His tender heart sought the cause of her grief, and learned that her husband had been aided in emigrating to America, the land of promise, while she must await the hour when his earnings could bring her also across the ocean. The open hand and heart was not appealed to in vain. "Give me your shoe," said he, softly. Taking from this the sinew used in its lacing, with it he replaced the four strings of his viol, and placing himself at the cathedral doors he drew from this one chord consecrated to pity and charity, such charming, touching and piteous strains as only the large heart and masterly hand of Ole Hull could improvise and execute. IIis extended hat was tilled. Pouring the treasure into the woman's lap, he only asked to see the sacred string (swan-like in fate) reduced to ashes. Is it strange that we loved his noble and poetic nature 'i?JMnn Trnnwript. Femalk Society.?'What is it that makes all those men who associate habitually with women superior to others who do not ? What makes that woman who is accustomed to, and at ease in, the society of men, superior to her sex in general ? Solely because they are in the habit of free, graceful continued conversation with the other sex. Women in this way lose their frivolity, their faculties awaken, their delicacies and peculiarities unfold all their beautv and cantivation in the spirit of intel lectuiil rivalry. And the men lose their i>edantic, rude, declamatory or sullen manner. Their asperities are rubbed off. their better materials polished and brightened, and their richness like gold, is wrought into finer workmanship by the fingers of women than it ever could be bv those of men. The iron and steel of their character are like the armor of giants by studs and knots of gold and precious stones, when they are not wanted in actual warfare.