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lewis m. grist, proprif|f>r. | ^n Jniiejjmiienf <familj ftetospaper: Jfir % ||romatio>it of tjre |)alitical, facial, ^gacnltaral anb Commercial Interests of % Sonfj). |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 29. 7 T.YORKYILDE, S. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 4, 1883. NO. 1. ? ? mmmmammmrnmlmtmmimmmmmmm?mmmmmmm <frtwted f0etrg. THE NEW YEAR. An old man totters on the road, Bowed down with age and care; His locks are white and float-about Like snow flakes in the air? The clouds are gath'ring darkling round, The night seems settling fast, The wind sends forth a mourning sound, The owlets flutter past. The old man halts along the road, He sees the gath'ring gloom? ' No hope has he the power to stay His fast apuroaehing doom.. He sees the cnildren pass him by, Anu sadly turns his face; He knows full well that he must die, The New Year takes his place. He hears the children clap their hands And shout aloud for glee, He marks them hasten on their way The glad New Year to see. And then he hears the midnight chime Ring out his fun'ral knell; His life fades fast?he rests at last, The New Year breaks the spell. A little child now leads the y>ay% His step is light and boldy- ~ His hair is bright and floats about tl ? Like threads of burnished gold. f The clouds are passing swift away, ^ The moon seems soft and clear", , The night has passed?the sun's brigt ray , Brings in the glad New Year. " Farewell, Old Year! Your work ifdone, A new one Alls your place; The darkest night will pass away, ' The morning dawn apace ! t We cannot bring the dead to life fi Nor wasted hours recall-; But in the coming year we may, 1 Perhaps, atone for all. " s leHir. j HARRY'S WIFE. , ( A LESSON FOR THOSE WHONEED IT. ? BY RALPH DOUGLASS The sewing circle w<ts to meet at Deitcon Simmons', and you may safely *y that for once there were no tardy ones, foiMrs. Hale, Senior, would of course come accimpanied by Mrs. Hale, Junior, and it was bis younger Mrs. Hale that every one in thecountry village was so wild to see and meet To think, with all the blooming lasses in ^leville, that Harry Hale should have gone toihe city for a wife ! Doubtless some silly, ilsipid, white faced girl who would make a totil failure as a v wife for a hard working farmer. Already young ' 1 -S" ? "rvrv/I _ fnr_ Mistress Hale was put aown a? ? JJWU'lVi - I naught in the minds of most of the matrons and maids of Valeville. Harry Hale was a fine, jolly young fellow, who had paid court to almost every cherry -cheeked girl in the village, and really there were more young hearts than one that felt a pang as the word came from towc that the dashing fellow had stolen a march on all Valeville, and was coming home with a wife. It was all true. Harry had gon8 to town some months before to visit a friend. The two had gone to a church fair, or sociable, or some such "kink," and this girl?Ilettie Stone?had entertained them with music. She was a music-teacher, and Harry was completely captivated by the full, rich voice and flying, fairy fingers. She was good to look at, too, round and graceful, a complexion the perfection of pink and white, rosy red lips, and dark clear, clean blue eyes. A tidy, I trim girl with a waving.abuptencp. of gnhL, ' brown hair, and a good, clear,aipoiainTo^" back her. hil Harry was introduced : liar was infatu- . ated. He came to town at ey excuse he i1." could invent, and friends begjo tease Miss Stone about her country lov Miss Stone was no fool and fully appre<?d the difference between an honest loveprn and bred under pure wholsome countryfluences, and 11 the deceiving, fickle vows ofty bred men. se And so when Harry Ilale sa* to "Ilettie, I wish you would my wife?will sh you 2" She had replied canj: cc "Let me think about it. ';T . w She was sitting at her pa* and while he sat by almost holding his >nfh, and yet full ?" of hope, too, her white, sib lgers had wan- ?o dered in and out amongst leleys bringing to ? life sweet, solemn slow cl&of church like music. 111 aYou have a home of ir own ?" j* * "A good home, Hettiffhere you shall be sole mistress, and I will a good husband, ai too." <" J w More of the soft, slow isic, in fact a very j1 sweet, sad dirge, it seeraecTruth to tell, Ilet- n tie Stone had already givall her fresh, first, beautiful passion, and thian whom she had S1 loved with youth's wild a>r was resting in a green, violet-decked gravfar off in another " city. But that sweet, s^ast, was?ever so d far past, she told herselfHere was a man b whom she loved and like? be with, only he was wholly different fromat first divine lov- :j er ; they could be happy gether, he adored " her, and she knew there s no man living to equal him in her eyes anetimation. ^ He wanted her to ma him, she had no 1 objections, and in time, rhaps, Carrie, her proud, independent sisteiould be persuaded > to give up her hard, busye, and come to a * sunny, happy country ho. * "Very well, Harry, ifu are sure you love me, and want me, and walwavs be kind to 1 me!" 1 And the fellow gavesr a rapturous em- 1 brace and thought hielf the Happiest of men. And so one lovely Mt morning, a proud, bright-eyed, hopeful loaig young man, led to the altar a calm-facedpen-eyed young woman, who looked more ssible than bride like in her neat grey gown, ih a cluster of big blue violets upon her boti. And our demure littlmusic mistress became Mrs. Harry Ilale nd the happy little couple drove out to Hay's home tnat aneinoon. The skies were right and soft, and like a blue 3ea were dot! thickly with fleecy, pearly, shifting little hkI isles ; the trees were clad in new vendui the fields and hills rolled in cool grassy wax. the birds sang and i played, and builded, anover all, the spring sunshine fell in a cheerjolden flood. It was their only wedng trip, a long, slow delicious drive from b:ks and stones and paves, from bustle and sli and hurry of the city, to cool green couny, rest and peace, and joy and love. # "O, May! the sweet ennonth of all the year, Of song, of sunshinojlooin and cheer.' Buds and blooms, al birds and emerald swards ! Oh ! how happy theithis young couple ! Love and life lay allefore them like the green, smiling, blossomg summer opening just ahead, and their sds sailed away in a sea of bliss. Just as the western ky was gorgeous in crimson and gold they; tered Valeville, and Hettie Hale was charmi with the fresh rural appearance of the place She was always glad' remember that not one single wee bit of a loud had crossed the pleasure and joy of ti t long spring- afternoon's drive from the < y to tne country, foi alas ! poor girl, the clotfc gathered thick anc fast enough across thifchimng face of bei hope after she reached jjr new home. Mrs. Hale, senior, w* ? plVJUUIWvt) bed, interfering old ladf Sbe was very angr; that her son should hffc married a city girl Regardless of the fact Ipit the city girl \va the only woman he waafd to marry, that sh loved him and was aa&kely as any one t make him a good wife, ,jhe old lady was eve bewailing her son's "nhtake" as she terme it. More than once p<A Ilettie's face bun ed red at the rude assails upon her helplesi ness, uselessness, and Aneral city bred wai and manners. "i Poor Hettie! "Love* young dream" w: being rather roughly ffiweu up. One June evening sMAat alone in a sha< ^rner of the olik poftff The yonng in or |^but a faint light, ghough the stars gli like diamond#!" all the roses droopii nByine and about ?r filled the soft nig JgKBgranee. Theism tears were drippii slotf over Mrs. Hale's face, and she was glatff the shelter of the rose vine. Her husbaipune to the dooi. 'fcttie! oh, I could not fancy where you we gone. Why are you here all alone V" . 4arry, come here, dear. Maybe I came heialone, in hopes you would come to me." ^ that he boldly lifted her from her chair, an<aking the seat himself held her in his ari as though she ' had been and infant. Ai he kissed her as fondly as though the foPh old meddlesome mother was not forevscouting the idea of affection and caressesstween them, ettie gave one little sob, half joy, half gl, iTou would not dare do that if you thought slwould'see it!" e knew it was true, but with another of tridiculed caresses said : "Never mind mother. Ilettie. She always ^ queer and kind of disagreeable. I know t tries you terribly, but we'll manage to get jng, some way." He dried her tears and soothed her like a ieved child, and she was so ylacl to have m comfort her that she soon cheered up, id there they sat in the rose perfumed shades ggd. listened to the frogs singing over in le pond in the field. "Bleat; you, my little treasure," whispered [ le easy-going young husband, "I'm afraid, ;ar, yon are not just as happy as we meant i be, hut you'll get used to motherland her ays by and by, and then we'll all be'happy." Nettie's arm tightened round the farmer's tck as she nestled on his fond heart, but at le same time her lips shut-together pretty anly. Hettie Hale was waking up! IShe did not ile to face the truth but there it stood gaunt id grim. Her husband was somewhat cowirly; she found him a little lacking in the nnliness she had foudly attributed to him. 5h often found herself wondering, would she lae been just so disappointed in the man ivl> was dead and gone V and she did not like >ui thoughts to intrude upon the first months Dfer marriage. Harry," she said very soberly, stroking hibearded cheek, "Harry, do you think you hae made a mistake V" Why, my dear Avife, you grieve me with sui a question ; do try and let your strong gel sense have play and don't pay any heed touch speeches. The only act I don't regret de, was marrying you. If you love me, Iltie, don't ever call our marriage a mistake agn." Ynd yet, my husband," she persisted softly/ou havt made a mistake! We ought to < gco a home of our own, alone, and then we < wld be happier." le was very eager, but lie answered li?ly?almost indifferently : Veil, well, we'll see dear!" ud so a few months more rolled on, Harry bfving, and Ilettie hoping it might all come rij;, some way! rs. Hale dismissed her one maid-of-allwt and decidedly called upon Mrs. Harry to leia hand. ittie's eyes opened wide, but as Harry me but feeble protest, she said 110 word < aiquietly yielded so far as her strength would peit to being made a servant maid. She usto go around with a line scorn upon her i pal face, for as the color drifted out of her ' facontempt for Harry drifted in. led a comfortable, happy enough life as ] tlnittle music teacher when I lived with Cae. This slavish drudgery I knew nothing of.' made all the money I needed?I seldom ] see dollar now?how long does Harry Hale j far I will live this life?" she used to say i I to :self. Nevertheless she bravely did her ] bes She washed, and swept, and ironed, ] bal and brewed until her girlish prettiness ] WMlg^^*fr^ft*-h;irdeii ed, her sou??8w-?t ttered. ] And through all, over all, under all, and ] out all her days, and worries and labors and j oughts, the old lady's pen>etual fault finding 1 id interference, ran like a sharp steel coru. 1 ie end came. One day Hettie fainted at the ironing table, very hot fierce day in September. Harry was i-i nt for in hot liaste, and for once found a ngue and a spirit, and curtly told his mother ie had better recall Jane ; his wife was in no 1 indition to work in any 'kitchen, and what as more she should not! All that night Ilarry held his wife in his ms, alternately praying for her pardon and ve, and promising a better state of affairs in ie future. Hut from that time Mrs. Ilarry Hale was lother woman. She had waited for her husrnd to defend, protect and care for her. He ad failed ! He hnu" brought her from peace ml happiness to turmoil, to an unfriendly oman, and he aad stood quietly by and be eld her turned into a drudge, she the woman e had sworn to ?herish and love. Ilarry had failed her, in manliness and in pint. Hereafter she would care for herself. Harry was worried by the change, the hardess and indiffert-ice that came to her. In a ay or two old Mre. Hale called on her for elp agiin. "]So,mother" answered llettie, "I am unccustoned and unable to do as I haye been ioing, and you will have to hire Jane again. iou ned not look to me for assistance. Anyhing ii reason I will do?what I think uneasontble I will?not do !" "Wei, young woman, one might think you vere tU Queen's daughter ! I guess if you ire hen to be fed md waited on too, you'll hid you mistake? " "Hua," broke in the desperate daughter-inaw, "Ho not desire you to wait on me. I will nfl wait upon you, and as for my daily bread, have God and a husband to thank for it, notou ; that settles it." Opeire bell ion brought 011 a storm of words' and cmplaints, but Harry upheld his wife and the ol lady had to subside. llettie Hale tliauki her spouse for his assistance in the wordyvar, with such chill ceremony, he could not diw her to his breast as lie had intended. She as becoming so chill and distant with him, al somehow in his soul he could not blameier, that he was becoming quite unhappy. "Crfound it," he would say, "if mother wasn'so old style and?and?cranky, we woultbe happy as-wo- were at first. The old lady >uld just fret herself to death, or I'd get a huje alone just to humor the little woman. lut I guess they'll get along better, byand-byiings will come right some way." And) the careless fellow let his happiness drift o of his life, trusting always to time and lu to make crooked ways smooth in *some v,\ lie noticed, too, that though his motheicaustic speeches might make Hettie's very li turn white, she never turned to him for coDrt any more. And how patient and quiet s kept, poor girl. She had really more genuinrespect for the woman as his mother, as an olady, than he had himself. Often a sharp r>rt or ungenerous sjieech would flash on his ?s, when Mrs. Hale aggravated him beyond durance, and it was ever his wife's | cool fin-s that slipped over his lips to hold back tliempery words?his wan, white wife, J who wl)ered in his ear : "He jeful, Harry ! she is old, and you will regret iome day, may be." ()nce caught the hands and drew the little | womanpon his knee, right under the old ! lady's e. : "Noflnok here, Ilettie, yodfce always I cautioi^ me to "be careful, be careful," r when Uier is in one of her^mtrums, and all theme I care most onryour account. - J>he has business to pick on you the way i. I ulio ilriPml vuf vnii'fo iint vvillinrr I sllOllld [ tell lierl What a,? I to do s She |ed forward and brushed his foree head w'her lips, regardless of the gasping, o angerefl lady. "My dear, 1 told you long ir ago wl(o do about it. Take me away, let d us bav^ittle home to ourselves. I care not i- how pojnd plain, so that it can be in peace i- and luHiy ; and I urge it once again, and ,'S ! earnesteseech you to heed me-?'before it is j too late is I A daious, determined gleam in her dark ! blue eytjikened a deal of worry in Harry, ly but his;her broke in excitedly? hi "That, that's it! that's what comes of it- marryir! linifed city woman, to have her ig setting ior two establishments ; anything, ht anything waste and spend more money, rig Anotheme, indeed 1 as though this house was not big enough for Harry's mother and wife, too." Hettie's big blue eyes looked eagerly into Harry's ; oh, with what longing ! "Harry, what do you say V" "Oh, Hettie, she'd raise such a row ; wait a while ; things will be better by and by." Hettie Hale rose from his arms and walked out of the room, and the old lady fussed and fumed. Harry, feeling that he had not done right, half vexed, half grieved, caught up his hat and hurried away. For days he was haunted by that gleam in her blue eyes, and felt oppressed by a sense of impending evil. One noon as he went back to the fields, Hettie, pale and peaked faced, followed him out on the rose-covered ]>orch and with unwonted tenderness, put her arms about his neck and kissed him, eagerly, ardently ; and he paused awhile to pet and caress her. "Hear little wife, what would I do without you ?" he asked, in loving idleness. A little splism of pain crossed her face, and she laughed dismally. "Oh, you'd get along?some way." "Really, he did not see the faint sarcasm, and, kissing, her again, went off to his labor. He came home at sun down to find his mother white and frightened, and his wife?gone. In her room lie found a tiny note : "Hon'tbe angry dear. I feel ill and weary, and a longing for sister Carrie, and,her honest, loving heart. I shall stay with her till baby is born, and then?the future we can decide in some way. I must have peace and calm. You will have plenty of time to decide whom you prefer, your mother or your wife." Great heavens! Hettie gone! .No wonder the strong fellow turned white, and felt as if the foundations of the world might be swept away. He fairly flew to the city ; that is, as fast as steam and iron could carry him. He found her with her sister Carrie. She was se-; as stone. "No Harry, I will not go back. I have urged and begged you to do the right, while .1 could still feel disposed to. No, I did not want you to quarrel with your mother, but I wanted you to be just to your wife U That you have not been. To tell you the truth, I have about lost all respect for you?harsh as it sounds, my poor husband"; do you fancy I would have stood quietly by and seen all your days embittered by an old lady's unreasonable dislike, and made no effort to have brought sweetness and peace to you ? No; a wife will leave home, sisters, parents, brothers, friends, youth and everything; will go amongst strangers, illness and poverty, if need be, to make home happy for her spouse; and when you can be a little less selfish, a little more considerate of my peace and joy, can get a little over your cowardly fear of your mother's quarrelsome, unkind tongue, we may talk of living together again. Meanwhile, I shall stay here, and rest safe in sister Carrie's tender, protecting love, and you may go home?and think ! Think of the joy and gladness you promised me, and of the miserable failure you have made of those promises !" I tell you the fellow quailed as she showed him how dismal and wretched she had been ; as she showed him, too, how nearly the foundations of their married life were worn away. TT * ? ? ^-'1 TTJu lie ueggeu, aiiu pieaueu, miu jmo wife was stone. She luid waited, she said, lis long as she would for him to come to his 1 senses. lie could take his time, now. He went home desolate and desperate. lie bad bitter enough reflections on the way home. What a bright, happy, hopeful little lass she was when he took her to his home ; how happy he had been with the young wife. How ;ently she had insinuated it would be best for them to live alone ; what bright pictures she 1 bad drawn of a little home all their own, and 1 now?could it be she was turned against him, . tier heart cold ? and was never to come to him tg'anry" lie wricuei3;nTtl nYGTtnca as iurwvw bow nearly his mother's sharp tongue had ruined all his hopes and prospects. But he found one wee ray of hope to cheer him. May be after baby came, and Ilettie had been from bim a while, and missed him a little, she would relent and come to him again. But days grew into months, and Hattie Hale showed no signs or desire to return, i Harry went into the city four or five times a week and wrote her many letters beside. Sometimes she replied, and sometimes she did not. lie, poor fellow, was growing thin and ; worried, and white, as the fear grew on him ; she meant never to rejoin him. He had one long, serious talk with his meddlesome moth- j er; convinced her, too, that she would have to ; treat his wife with consideration and courtesy, or, in short, find another home. This he told. Ilettie, whereupon she blazed forth at him. "Well, I believe, Harry Hale, you grow more a fool every hour you live! As a husband you have proved yourself cowardly, insufficient, and absurdly nimby-namby. How, as a son, you will even be unkind, ungenerous, and I should say, absolutely beastly ! Do you think a son of mine would turn me out of mil home in my old age V For shame! Let the old lady alone. That is her home, has been all her life, before you were born. Let heir stay there, and?let me tell you one thing! I will never go into that house, be your mother alive or dead, to make a home for you there! I have been too unhappy there, and have lost respect for you tnere, ana sunereu too much in consequence, to ever regard that house as home." And she curled her lips in scorn. The poor fellow fairly tore his hair and cried out: "Well, Ilettie, what am I to do then 't IIow can I please you V I want you, my wife. I love you, dear. I am not happy without you, and yet I can devise no plan that pleases you. Tell me, for God's sake, what to do !" lie looked at her so beseechingly, with fairly tears in his brown eyes, that she went to him as of old and sat on his knee, with her arm about his shoulders. "My dear, old, stupid Ilarry. T told you long ago?I will tell you once again. As I begged y*u such ages ago, back in the Summer starlight, if we are to live together and be happy?and, my dear, if we can't be peaceful and happy we will not abide together another day?we must have a little home of our own, where you and I can rule together, subservient to none but ourselves and love, and free from other associations. You can never be a brave, bold man in a house where all ymir .years you have been yielding, and dodging, and shrinking to avoid a fretful tongue; nor can I be happy where in every coi ner springs a ghost of some sharp speech to stab me over and over again. Your mother will always be welcome in your home, while she minds her own business, bfit in your home and mine?in our home, 1 will be mistress, or not there at all!" Then she fondly kissed him, and having; shown him the plain path, bided the results. He went back to Valeville, the veil lifted clear from his eyes. To re-win his wife he must do as she said, and, yes, he believed she was right. What else did the Holy Writ mean when it said, "A man shall leave mother and father, and cleave unto his wife V" Harry was not a king bee at quoting Scripture, but he had certainly learned, at bitter ! cost, one of the Scripture truths. He said nothing, but quietly and hopefully set about winning his wife over again, lie bought a cunning little cottage and a snug little lot about it. Jly his father's will the old farm was his, and he would have it attended to. Then he took sister Carrie into his confidence, and begged her assistance in furnishing the J cosy little nest he designed to have. She, a cool-headed, sensible woman, was delighted j with him in this sensible state of mind, and : told liiin so. 'Together they worked and the I six pretty rooms were newly furnished in a | bright, light, inexpensive manner, though Ilarry candidly said he did not mind the cost, if he could only "make up" to Ilettie what she had endured. "Then, Ilarry, buy her this," and Carrie pointed to a pretty, neat, upright piano. "Yon men are so thoughtless, without meaning unkind ness. I shall never forget how Hettie cried and cried over ray old piano when she came back. She was absolutely heart hungry, home sick and blue for her beloved old piano while she was with you. Think what a constant companion it has been to her since she was a little girl and had to be spanked to make her practice. Think of the years it earned her lier bread and butter. Ilarry Hale 1 have more faith in you than lias your wife. I believe you fondly love her ; but you are a great, kind hearted, blundering sort of a fellow, that needs to think hard ev?ry once in a while. How long do you think jjoa would have been thus patient if she had deprived you of your chance at smoking ? "And there is always something in a woman'sjlife to take the place of tobacco in a man's. Remember that, and you will both be happier;" Poor old Harry ! if hehad only known, she 1 might have had a dozen juanos, he groaned. : "Yes, but you must remember," said his 1 sister, that a wife has wonderful delicacy of j feeling that perhaps no taan can understand, ] about asking her husband fortius or that. In . the first place, he has, iis1 a lover, trained her J to see and think he can Anticipate each desire j she has, and then?he has vowed to be (?ver as attentive and careful as in those days of wooing. And then there is a something that j no words can convey, that withholds a sensitive woman from asking for means or wants, , that an attentive, right minded man would of himself see she needed, and that they were , supplied." . J Ah, Harry Hale learned a good many need- { ful lessons during that winter season, but lie , was willing and loving, and meant right, so he ! thankfully received the' ideas Carrie gave, and " the strong facta ITettic>*?^ght. \ When the next Maycame", he took" | his dear wife and wee little daughter to the . new home. A pretty little home in roses and ' honeysuckles, carefully arranged by the loving j hands of Harry and the good sister. At sight j of her piano she cried like a baby, and Hung herself in her husband's arms. "You darling. Forgive nae for every unkind word and thought, JIarry ; this repays me for every sorrow." Tears stood in his honest eyes as he looked at carrie. "Girls, I am so stupid and ignorant of women's ways and minds ! If you will only give me a hint once in a while what I ought to do, I will really, on my honor, be the best husband and brother in Valeville." And he meant it, and once in a while, good Carrie would give hfin the reminder, and after all, peace and harmony settled upon them. In the soft, sweet evenings, Ilettie would so charm and rest her spouse with melody from the simple little upright, that he said he wondered that he had ever lived without one. A couple of cows came over from the old farm, some pretty broods of chickens possessed the back green lot to delight the wee "Caroline," strawberries, and roses, and fruits, and flowers went to make the new home delightful, and Ilettie Hale caressed her husband and baby, and said no happier woman was in the world; and sweet love-lights gleamed in the eyes of the farmer and his wife. The neighbors loved her, and none regretted Harry had married a city girl?but one. The mother ! Only once she gave way to the old demon, interference. "I think it's wicked and wasteful for Harry's wife to keep a nurse girl and a kitchen girl. She'll ruin the man yet." "No, mother, I won't. I have now two little children and doubtless Ileaven will send more. I must be neat and tidy and rested to keep my own respect and my husband's, and I cannot do the kitchen's busy, heavy, perpetual labor, if I am to be a decent companion for Harry,?am to educate and raise our children as we see they should be, I am not to be his drudge, nor housekeeper, nor cook. He can hire a different style of woman to be all that for home. He cannot hire a wife, a companion, and a loving, faithful friend. He married me for his wife, the mother of his children, not ror a servant, aim it is not just (, nor reasonable to expect me to be all and t everything at once. We can afford help?con- ^ sequently we will have it!" s And the quiet determined little woman a became a power in the village. She dispersed a ideas of refinement. imm:ovement_anil chair- a ity, as the sun does ligrlt and"rwarmth. She q was never too busy to be gentle and kind; s never too warm or wearied to give heed to the ? poor, the sick or the suffering. If a Vale- ^ ville girl wanted advice or assistance about s a new recipe, the cut of her gown, or sympa- v thy about a lost friend or a moulting bird, or v a fickle lover, she knew a kind heart to help q her lay in Harry's wife's bosom, and Mrs. a Hetty was in great demand. Harry's wife ^ was the resort and rest and hope of every one v in every trouble or joy. She took such a r stand in the church, and various "circles," that eveii the old lady was forced to feel n proud at last of Harry's wife, and the older and more disagreeable she grew, strange as it seems, the fonder, and prouder, and louder in praise she became of her son Harry's wife.? Portland Transcript. " t THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC. j, In the theory of Helmhotlz, music express- a es different dispositions of the soul by imita- t ting characteristic peculiarities of movement in J space, and by thus., translating the forces and t impulses that produce the movement. When he admits that it may have been at first only I an imagination of the instinctive modula- g ^ nAvnaaimn/lithr wifli fho rl 1 fP- V 1-lUlia Ul 11IC vuiug TTIVU VIIV erent states of the mind, he does not consider a this fact contradictory to Ins definition, for li the natural processes of vocal expression are t being capable of being traced to the same el- c ements. "ltythm and accentuation express e directly the rapidity and vivacity of corres- s ponding physical movements; a vehement effort causes the voice to rise ; the desire to pro- e duce an agreeable impression on another t prompts us to select a pleasant tone ; and e thus the efforts to imitate the involuntary i modulations of the voice, to enrich and make t more impressive the recitation of words, may c very properly have guided our ancestors in t seeking out means of musical expression." This is probably the real origin of music; e and it is in this direction that we should look t in investigating its nature. s Two elements closely connected, but quite 1 different and having each its peculiarfunction, \ may be distinguished in the analysis of spoken language?the intonation and the articulation 1 of the emitted sound. Xo doubt they are i the interpreters of the two great human fac- r ulties of intelligence and hearing. Speech, \ then, is a complex physiological resultant, the double image of a double inner condition, i The elements it represents cannot be conceiv- f ed as isolated from the other, any more than i we can conceive a hunstvu organization a pure < intelligence. We all know the important part 1 intonation plays in conversation, and how by it I the general sense, the whole expression of the i spoken words, may be varied indefinitely. I Having thus found the origin of music in the imitation of these instinctive modulations ( of speech, it should be easy to draw from this 1 an exact idea of its nature: for without doubt, ' to read verse well, to declaim with warmth : and conviction, is only to perform in advance the work of the musician. We have now a 1 whole class of musical phrases which are only ! exaggerations of spoken intonations; they are 1 our recitatives. The music of uncultivated people is mostly recitative ; so also was a 1 large part of the music of the middle ages. The rules and grammar of music and its particular features are the growth of modern times. : The conception of music and the language of sensibility permits us to explain the characteristic features of its own action. We must consider, first, that this language, like its twin : sister, the language of ideas, has suffered a progressive evolution, and has with ns reached a great perfection, and consequently a great : complexity in its laws and processes. Among nriinitive neonles of few ideas, whose feelings show variations of shade in expression, music is almost wholy coiilined to a few modulations expressive of the principal divisions of feeding?love, joy, sorrow, and warlike ardor. Civilization with its refinements, has produe- 1 ed a music that has grown constantly richer in shades and means of expression, to the ! point which has been reached by the great masters of our age.?M. Jlericourt in Popular Science Monthly for December. Will Head Eithek Way.?Our young 1 friends have heard of palindromes?words or | lines that read and spell the same backward or [ forward. The following sentences, printed in ; the London Truth, simply make sense read ' word by word either way : "Solomon had vast treasures?silver goldthings precious. Happy and rich and wise was lie. Faithfully served he God. "She sits lamenting sadly, often too much alone. gfistcHaucous Reading. For (he Yorkvllic Enquirer. THE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. The greatest force may become diffused so extensively in its application as to be practically powerless. The merest tyro in the field knows that some guns scatter so badly that no game is brought down, though charged with a handful of shot. An estate may be so split up as to be of no substantial value to any inheritmt__ i - 1- Ivrt on ar\1 i n f nrrwl ??? Dr. J. lie Jillgfat UUtV 1UUJ UC ow apiMin/ivu ...j to become as weak as the smallest broom-straw. We must guard against excessive diffusion with the same jealousy that we watch centralization. Power distributed, but not broken into the smallest parts, redounds to the best nesulls. Since, as Col. Thompson says, "Popular education in South Carolina is no longer an exleriment," this communication briefly implies, whether the system might not be very jreatly enhanced in its good attainments, by i more concentrated employment of the funds ind agencies of this important department of >?r civilization. To borrow the language of msiness men, "Are we not attempting to run i business too extensive for our capital The present policy seems to be to locate a school n every neighborhood. l)o the best attainable results accrue from it ? Many difficulties intersect this plan and bar )ut the true success desired by the friends of education. (1). It necessitates the employnent of teachers who have not a tithe of the nullifications. The average amount devoted ;o the support of each school, last year, was 514-2.30. This salary is not largeenough to atrmetA man with?well, second-class gifts, for ;he position. (2). It results in holding school sessions too short to nc?<unplish any real ^tnd asting progress. The average session. last rear, was four months. (3). Consequently the ihild is discouraged and resolves to euter upon tome other employment as soon as parental lutliority will permit. (4). Or the parent, seeng this spasmodic study to issue in little or 10 advancement, concludes his son will be vorth more to him in the field, and so withIraws him to follow the plow. (5). The sysem, while doing so little to implant a higher cnowledge, crosses the pathway of the subscription school, where a first-class work is lone. The best teacliers are, consequently, lisappearing, because the State is taking their radefrom them. (0). The whole winds up in he masses acquiring but a smattering of true -i 15 ?1.21^ i-lwx fdn?,/ln? /! rlntrn nil ,'UUUHLIUII, Willie UIC Sliviiuaui jjuw uunu iu. he time. It is cheerfully conceded that the system is it fault solely for the want of money. But hat farmer who attempts to cultivate a liunIred acres of land, where lie has the means inly to work fifty, is pronounced unwise; and vhy should a State, attempting a similar thing, >e exempt from the same judgment ? Last ear the public school fund amounted to $452,K35.44, and there are 34 counties in the State, f distributed equally among them, each couny would be entitled to about 813,322.50. If his amount were employed to found and mainain first-class academies instead of being disributed out to 03 schools?the average numier at present in each county?much more satisfactory results could be obtained. As much mphasis should be laid upon the quality of liese institutions as the number. Supjiose the idea should be to found and perietuate one good, first-rate academy in each ownshij), with money enough behind it to atract a competent teacher, York, with her 10 ownships and $13,322.50, could have two such chools in every township?one for the whites nd one for the colored people. "With such a proposition laid before them, the people would ho'vw l>y ? nrmnmtf j ?he teacher, having a permanent and adequate upport guaranteed to him, could endeavor to ive character to his academy. The people, ehokling the good work done therein, would end their sons and daughters. The schools muld acquire reputation, and would become aluable feeders to the University and colleges,, ^his plan, roughly drawn, appears feasible* nd there cannot be two opinions about the ' enefits of it over the present diffusive system, vitli many schools, poor teachers, small sala- j ies, short sessions and poor work. May this dream of high education for the aasses some day, some how, be realized! IV. ELECTRICITY. *? * ^ i\Lvo}/?nl imotif ua m<irVial. jl neie is nu utnci i'hjoivtti 05^111/ ^.v . v< | us in its operations as electricity. The unions of antiquity believed their gods spoke in j he rattling thunder, manifested their wrath n the ruin wrought by the lightning stroke ; nd among the Hindoos, after Brahma, India, he god of thunder, was the chief deity; while upiter is generally represented brandishing huuderbolts. Of electrical phenomena, none is more tcrritly grand than a thunder shower. "Terribly ;rand," we say, from the admiring wonder vith which one watches the dazzling lightning s it shoots from cloud to cloud, or from the leavens above to the earth beneath, and listen o the frequent "reports," now booming like annon, anon cracking like musketry, is never utirely free from fear as regards personal afety. This may well be the case. Apparently govrned by no known law, no sure means of proection against the effects of lightning have iver been devised. In a loose sort of a way, t is supposed that certain substances attract, hat others repel, lightning ; but facts tend to :ombat the theories based on such a supposi,ion. In 177U, in Birmingham, England, the cov rlet was torn from a bed, by lightning, with * ' " ..4.? rn >ut injury 10 lis occupants. jlww jraia win, it Harrogate, a gentleman was killed by l'ght)ing while asleep on a feather bed, though his vife, sleeping beside him, was not awakened. In 1844 a flash of lightning struck a boat lear the Shetland Islands and completely demolished the mast. A man sitting near the nast was unharmed ; a watch in his pocket ,vas melted. In 1808, five children were sitting on abench n a Swiss cottage that was "struck." The irst and hist were killed ; the others were slightly "shocked." A lady whose residence ivas nt a little distance from Madrid, Spain, vas swinging in her hammock one afternoon in July, 1840, when she was killed by lightling. The sky was entirely cloudless, but there was a severe shower forty miles away. Hid you ever hear of "lightning pictures V" On the neck of a young man killed by lightning in Cuba was found the image of an iron liorse that stood a short distance from the spot where he was stricken down. A woman in Maine was standing at a winlow when a tree directly in front of her was struck by lightning. She was stunned, and on recovering her senses complained that her back seemed on fire. An examination disclosed a perfect likeness of the tree between her shoulders. A peasant woman of Seine-et-Marne, in the nrirfiiovn iMirt nf France, in September, 18/37, was struck by lightning while watching a cow. The animal was killed and its mistress lay motionless. Prompt attention restored consciousness ; but on removing her garments, an image of a cow was found on her breast. The physiological effects of lightning are frequently very strange. In 1838, at Vic-surAisne, three soldiers who had sought refuge under a lime tree were killed by lightning. Hut they remained erect, as if untouched by the electric fluid, for several minutes; then they fell a heap of ashes. Certain persons, from unknown causes, are electrical to a wonderful degree. Mademoiselle Angelique Cottin was weaving silk gloves in the evening of January 13, 1810, when the loom at which she was working began to sway to and fro so violently that she lied from it in alarm. When she was at a distance from the machine the movements ceased; they were renewed as she approached it. Her parents sent her to the priest, that the demon with which they thought her possessed might be exorcised. He took her to a physician, who was unable to account for the mystery. Ere long she found that whatever small articles her dress touched started from her, and persons near her received quite powerful electrical "shocks." The case was carefully studied by medical and scientific men, and the phenomena attributed to her "corporal eleetrici ly." From that time she was denominated as "The Elective Girl." If Mademoiselle Cottin had lived at Salem, Mass., in the days of witchcraft delusion, in-; stead of being a resident of France, about the | middle of the nineteenth century, she would doubtless have fallen under suspicion as a witch, and been subjected to the fearful torments indicted upon suspected persons. And it is more than probable that many "spiritual manifestations" are referable to causes similar to those producing the above described phenomena. Such are some of the "didos" that have been cut by the subtle fluid?when uncontrolled?which the Genius of Science has compelled to print our books, to illuminate our cities by night, to carry our messages round the earth in a far fewer minutes than the fairy Puck required for girdling it. Its realm is already a mighty one, but we are conlident it, has not annroaehed the zenith of its power itiul glory.?Christian Union. i) etecti x (Counterfeits. It is ;i good rule in receiving bank notes to carefully examine the general appearance of the note, the geometrical lathe work, shading of the letters, ruling engine work, vignettes i and solid print, carefully noting whether they compare with standard work. The ink, printing and paper must be considered. The character number appears on all bank notes issued since 1875. All national bank notes are signed by F. E. Spinner, treasurer, prior to 1875. All genuine notes of the United States treasury bear check letters, A, B, C or D, and are numbered consecutively, commencing with one, thus : A is 1 ; 13 is 2 ; C 3 and I) 4 ; or a number, which if divided., by four, will show the number to be even'. Genuine bank note/are usually p&ntedj^jrj paper of good quality, though vaifwjs^fiuch-! in thickness?some' being qdite tWn.* It i^ not impossible for coiiaterfeitere to procure ft good quality ca paper, yet counterfeits uouaij have a smooth, greasy touch,, while the genuine note has not, but will cleave to the Sneers. The paiwr, though important in ques tion, is not infallible, and it will not do to rely too much upon the quality. All notes in the United States are now printed on liber paper, the liber consisting of silk threads which are in and form a part of the substance. The government are now also manufacturing the note paper, having two silk threads which extend the whole length of the note, one a red, the other blue, which are discernible by holding the note to the light. These the counterfeiter has endeavored to imitate, by drawing two parallel lines on the surface. This will be found in the counterfeit United States silver certificates. "Water and sky, when done with the ruling engine, cannot be successfully imitated. It is rare to see fine vignettes on counterfeit notes, yet many very dangerous imitations have been produced. But, however perfect, a counterfeit cannot be the same as the original or genuine. Then there is the geometrical lathe work. All designs, such as circles, ovals, squares, etc., and upon which the denomination is usually placed, composed of a net-work of fine lines crossing eacli other at such angles and distances as to produce the desired effect is called tiie geometrical lathe work, and is produced by the geometrical lathe, a wonderful as well as beautiful machine. The patterns produced by the lathe are of every conceivable variety of form and shape. The fine lines is the characteristic of this description of engraving, and in the genuine note can be traced throughout the design, never breaking or losing itself in another line, or i liiivimranv irregularity whatever. The line is | usually white on black or green ground,or sometimes red, but may be a black, green or red on whit*. In tho conntefeit engraving the design is engraved upon the plate and fails in various ways. First, it is impossible to produce the perfet line as in the genuine, and the effect to the eye will be more or less dull or sunken in appearance as well as havm#-*- ' scratchy look. The design will also be darker or light in spots, as the lines are sometimes heavier and sometimes lighter, as well as the spaces between are sometimes wide and again near together^A*ring irregular in size and ; sometimes Dioken. .Second, it is impossible ?o*?tfie counterfeiter to produce two designs exactly alike. As the counterfeit is engraved by hand and separately, 1t is impossible to produce two exactly alike. On examination of the genuine bill the design of the geometrical lathe work will show the beautiful clear raised impression produced by the correct and regular lines in the engraving. Sometimes the whole face of a note except the vignettes and dies will be tinted. The tint is composed of line curved or looped lines running across the whole face on the bill. Genuine bank notes are always printed with great care. The plate is covered with iiik, which is then carefully wiped off, except what remains in the lines of the engraving. The engraving is then taken with a powerful press. Should any irregularity appear on the note it is immediately canceled, and not issued. Thus all genuine notes have a clear and beautiful impression, which is very unusual for a counterfeit. The ink used in bank-note printing gives a clear impression, without any smutty appearance. The g4een ink, and also that used for the numberingof United States notes, is with great dilliculty produced by the counterfeiters. The ink usually used by them for printing counterfeits has a heavy, dull look ; wime uie numuernig nas a um nj ciy|>c?mn?w. > THE BUIIIED CITIES. A tourist, writing to the Paris lteijister, from the vicinity of Mount Vesuvius, describes a demonstration which he met in that region, of the way the cities llerculaneum and Pompeii were destroyed, lie was proceeding by railway from Torre Annunziata to to Torre del Greco, and had gone but a short i distance when the locomotive was suddenly j brought to a stand-still by an immense quail- > tity of volcanic ashes and pumice stone, packed over the railway track to the height of many feet. It had been hurled there by the rushing torrents that were literally sweeping the slopes of Vesuvius. There was no getting ; through, and it was not until after six hours, 1 that with a force of hundreds of men, any j train was able to pass. It was by a similar | storm that the burial of the famous Human cities was effected. First there was a fall of pumice stone and line ashes ; and immediately succeeding came a drenching Hood forming torrents of fine ftshes, like a liquid mud-paste. This was hurled like rushing rivers not only ! upon llerculaneum, Pompeii and Oplonto, but I upon every side of Vesuvius. This mud flood, j now of course dry and compact, can ever be ! seen 011 the plain between Pompeii and Stabiie, the modern Castellamare. llerculaneum was 1 situated on the sea, and nearer the new crater j termed by the Vesuvian convulsion of 70 A. 1)., and the slopes of the mountain above Hercu- J laneum being steeper than elsewhere, received | a far greater quantity of torrents of fine mud- i ashes than Pompeii, which in a direct line, is five miles away from the present cone, which 1 occupies substantially the same position as j that of the cone shot up in that memorable j 4 ' -i n i?? 1 lllgUL uescrioeu uy mc juuu^ci inuj, . side, the inclination of the mountain towards I Pompeii is nearly gradual for half the dis- | lance, so that the interment by the pumice stone, and afterwards of the mud flood, was not nearly so deep as that of her sister city. The pumice stone and the coating of liquid mud (which latter perhaps dried almost as rapidly as liquid plaster of Paris) covered Ilerculancum to the depth of sixty feet, while j Pompeii was only buried beneath twenty-four feet. In the year 1030, A. 1)., lava, for the first time in the records of man, burst forth j from Vesuvius. Of course, in pre-historie j times, it had rolled down again and again j from the mountain to the sea, and Pom-1 peii itself, built before the foundation of j Itome, was constructed on an old lava bed iust on the edge of the plains of tfonoro. j Then in 103(5 A. 1)., Ilerculaneum, buried for nearly a thousand years beneath die layer of pumice stone and dried, compacted line ashes j (the once liquid unid), received i he first layer j of lava; and in the centuries up to the discov-! ery (1<>S1), perhaps as many as six eruptions! poured their millions of tons over the spot I where the devoted city lay. 1 mention six I lava deposits because Torre del Greco, which, ] with llisini, is built over the sight of Hereu-i laneum, lias been clestroyea nine umes uy Vesuvius since the eruption of 79, thus covering Ilerculaneum to the depth of one hundred and twenty feet from the original level. The pumice stone and the dried mud (? use scientific terms), being non conductors preserved the statutes of bronze and marble, the frescoes, the papyri, and even such perishable articles as honey. If lava, in the ordinary sense of the word, had overwhelmed Herculaneum, nothing would have remained of the city covered in 79. Hence it can be seen how absurd is the story told-by ignorant guides and by many a letter writer, and I am sorry to say, in many books, that Ilerculaneum was destroyed by lava. I am informed that the destruction ef property on Vesuvius is often very great at the present time, on account of the pumice stone and ashes carried violently, and in torrents, down the mountain side. A Hood of-ashes and water commingled descended on San Sebastians during the eruption of 1822, and no less than seven men were engulfed in this iluicl mud, and lost their lives in a moment, the material enclosing the bodies just it did those of the unfortunnte Pompeiaus who perished eighteen hundred years ago. HOM.E, SWEET HOME. In an interesting sketch of John Howard Payne, author of Home Sweet Home, the Baltimore Sun says : These verses touch the universal heart by the tender memories they invoke more profoundly than any 'others in the English tongue. Por nearly sixty ye&rs "Home, Sweet Home" has been the one favorite song among English-speaking people in N />? whatever country they might be found, and it will last as long as human affections cluster about the household hearth. The song oi RobertJBurns that is oftenest aung bykis country-. men is "Auld Lasg < perhaps w> .it' and striktn/T a awo> ; ftdfcer mfl| 3i tc of should he ihacribed. on Jiin-tomb* *'lHe wlrafe} -v ters have long been recognized as the best in the world. Hunting songs, sea songs* sentimental songs. convivial songs, and songs. r>f the affections abound ; yet in the whole collection, admirable as it is and of high poetic excellence, there if not one that strikes with so sure a hand the key-note to which all hearts respond as the "Home, Sweet Home" of the * * * * s? a l.u wandering Americen?wun nis genius mm mo Bohemianism, his vicissitudes of fortune and his attractive conversational powers?John Howard Payne. As the young American Iioscus who crowded our theatres three-fourths of a century ago, as the author, translator or adapter of a number plays, comedies and tragedies, very few of which are known to the present generation, his fame would have been as fleeting as that of the young -English Rosci us, blaster -Betty, or the thousand and one playwrights whose names are in dramatic bibliographies, but whose works, more or less successful in their day, the present generation of play-goers rarely ever hear of. The memory of John Howard Payne would have soon become a thing of the past but for the one simple song which outweighs all he has written. Out of the poverty that had driven him for refuge to a Paris garret, came the song that has immortalized his name. It is the expression of sadness and yearning which, in his hunger and wretchedness, he felt for the home in which he was born, three thousand miles away. As a literary production it may not bear the severer tests of criticism; but the very essence of home longing pervades it?a longing for old familliar scenes, old familliar faces, the mother's love,-the father.'s care, the friends we once knew; all clothed in the^ soft and gracious light which lends itselfto^fonfl recofectioms- *. and to whicli distanc^^S*** enchantment. It is little ??nwcr'tnat such a song when fir?t -?*ng should have taken aR England ny stOrm ; or that it should touch the popular feeling as deeply to-day as it did half a centu ry ago. For the good which this song has done John Howard Payne deserves to be honored by his countrymen. Ilis life, like that of Poe, was a broken one. After twenty years of exile he returned home, poorer than he was when he went; abroad. His immediate needs were supplied from the proceeds of a theatrical benefit, and he was thrown once more upon his own resources until friendly solicitation obtained for him the poor position of the remote consulate ol' Tunis. There he died ; there his remains were buried, far from the home to which he turned so sadly years before in his Paris garret. There he would still have been left in his obscure and unhonored grave but for the generous act of Mr. Corcoran, who has undertaken to have the remains brought back to the United States and interred with fitting ceremonies in Oak Hill Cemetery, near Georgetown. Over his remains Mr. Corcoran proposes to raise, at his own cost, a monument which shall mark, for many years to come, the last resting place of the author of "Home, Sweet Home." In connection with the authorship of this favorite song, II. W. Grady writes: "What a precious possession is that of the elderly lady in Athens, Ga., who owns the original manuscript of Tlome, Sweet Home,' as written by John Howard Payne. The words of the poem as first written are all interlined, with here and there an endearing expression from the writer to the lady who now holds it. In the old days Payne was devotedly attached to her, 1 1 1 ? +h.\f ovn unci SMC IlilS llUWiy U1 JUS ICILCIO tlluu 11U v;u save hers will ever see. She is a noble and high-minded woman, and a fit legatee of the memories of a true poet, and the manuscript of the best known American poem. She has been offered a large sum for the manuscript, but of course no money could buy it." ? Genius anjd Its Apes.?In all this world there is nothing more beautiful, and, in the long run*, more practical, self-centered and worthy of respect, than true genius. Whether it invents a pin, a match, a steamboat, electric lights; writes such prose or i>oSms as captivate men's souls, or, rising still higher, utters such moral and religious truths as becomes the centres of new revolutions and systems of thought, or dies of martyrdom that such truths may not die, it is everywhere and in all ages the divinest thing this world knows anything about; has for the basis of its own life a profound and simple sincerity in all things, and at the right time'issure to be honored for what it is really worth, perhaps worshiped, but never eventually despised. And of all things known to mankind nothing is * 1 "? j quite so ciespicauie aim unenuurnuic aicmo apes of genius ; cranks in knee-breeches and long hair or what not, that have only their silly external idiosyncracies to make them noticeable among their fellow-men. Dreams.?The British Medical Journal describes some interesting experiments on this subject that have been made by M. G. Delaunay. According to psychologists, dreams are generally illogical and absurd. M. Delaunay, however, by covering his forehead with a layer of cotton wool, rendered at will his dreams healthy and intelligent. According to his experience, the dreams which people have when _____ lying on their back, are sensuous, agitated and eratic. Those which occur when the dreamer is lying on his right side are changeable ; full of exaggeration, absurd, and relate to old recolectio'ns. Those which occur when lying on the left side are intelligent, reasonable and relate to recent occurrences. People often talk during the last mentioned dreams. The author considers that dreams intelligent or otherwise, eratic or sober, can lw induced by causing variations in the cerebral circulation, and by the nutrition of the various regions of the brain, either by the elevation of the cranial temperature or by decubitus. They, therefore form an interesting field for psychological re OUUV/II. $55" It is stated that there is an old gentleman living in Georgia, who has been married nine times and lias had fifty-three children. His descendants, to the number of two hundred, were recently present at a reunion of the family. US" A man weighing 124 pounds started out to whip a man named Cabin, at Athens, Ga., but after seeing Mr. Cabin lift a barrel of whisky and drink from the bung, concluded to let him escape.