Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis >i. grist, proprietor. J 2U fitkpMibttit Jfamilg ttotospapcr: Jfor % |)rontofioit of t|t political, Social, ^jriraltnral ant) Commercial Interests of lljc Sonflj. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. "VOL. 29. . YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1683. NO. 6. j^elertfd ?oett|. TIME'S CHANGE. The songs we sang in other days, They greet lis now no more ; The loves thai roused our hopes and fears Are vanished now and o'er. The friends we loved are scattered wide, Familiar scenes are changed; And hearts that once were true and tried, Are lifeless or estranged. The lips the sweetest smile that wore : The cheeks that bloomed most fair ; The voice that charmed us long before, With music rich and rare; The eyes whose slightest glance could still, Our hearts with love enthrall; Whose smile could bless, whose frown could kill Are changed or vanished all. The way was bright before us then, Thecomingdav seemed fair: We mingle with'our fellow-men? WTitV* Koai>tu 1a rla unrl ilnro. The hopes of youth are faded now, Its fevered dreams are past; And time upon our furrowed brow His silvery shade has east. We, too, are changod, but not in heart! Old Time may do hjs worst? He cannot from remembrance part The things we loved at first. The eye may dim, the cheek grow pale, The snows of age may fall, Yet shall our memory never fail To heed affection's call. JdortJ ieUct. A MISTAKE. BY VIRGINIA PR A ZEE. CHAPTER I. The western-bound train, which had beer thundering over the rails at breakneck speee for many an hour, slackened its pace ant gave forth, through its iron throat, a slide! which announced many an anxiously await ed-for arrival to the slumbering town whicl lay just ahead ; and, a moment later, the hoarse voice of the conductor confirmed th< announcement of the iron monster by th< sudden and alarming utterance of a sound which, with the combined information o the time-table and the sign-boards of tin usual dram-shops which lined the fron street, the weary travelers knew to b< "Fairview although what he really saic nobody knew. Instantly there was a gen eral commotion. Fairview, besides beinj the county seat, was also the seat of Homei academy. And, as this was opening wee! of the latter, each train brought in a number of students, and there was a goodly number on this particular one; and, as thej were in especially high spirits, they had succeeded in making night hideous to the more sober minded and sober aged of theii em\>olnr< nml thprp was n visible lightening up of countenances at the evidences of their exit. And such a timeas tliese young ladies and their escorts had in taking their departure, The number of exclamations, thickly interspersed with astounding and unfamiliar adjectives, was enough to make one's hai; stand on end, especially if one was inclined to regard words as having any reference t< a meaning. One blue-eyed girl of some sixteen summers cried: "Oh, Gussie, darling, 1 do hope Mariah'14?e here this year. She does lisp too awfully beautiful. Oh, Jim, you horrid thing! you're letting those lovely caramels spill all out. Oh, gracious, where's my cloak ?" Then another voice: "There's that strap off my books again, and my astronomy isn't here?there it is, way up on that rack. Oh, Charley, do just run and tell the conductor to wait till 1 get my astronomy. O mercy ! excuse me, sir; 1 didn't know the horrid tiling was going tc drop on your head." And Lily whispered to Zadie in a very audible tone: "I know il nearly killed him to death ; poor, old gentleman, there ain't a speck of hair on hit head." Which whisper caused the old gentleman to quickly throw a handkerchiefovei III? Htrtiit) tutu, a :jvuni 111 tucuiicvtiuu ui uk innocent speaker; and several ladies, t< whom sleep had been rendered impossible by reason of the old gentleman's persistent snoring, smile a smile of fully satisfied revenge. Tliis group had the attention of every one in the ear, with the exception o1 one passenger, who, since the whistle had sounded, had sat with gaze riveted on tin town as if to fathom its very secret of existence, and, as with a jerk, the train stopped she quietly arose, and picking up satchel and cloak, stepped out after her more noisj fellow-travelers. The latter seemed to know everybody, and the quantity and quality o their exclamations increased as they ex changed greetings with those they knew amongst tne crowd. Especially cordial wen they with one man, who seemed to know and be known by everybody. He shoot hands, smiled, and bowed in all direction: at once, it seemed, but all the time liissharj blue eyes were scanning the crowd : ant while answering fifty questions, as, "Yes my dear. Katie came last week;" "No Prof. Abbott takes Latin this year," am the like; not one moment stopped noi stayed he, but steadily passing on througl the crowd he finally reached the quiet pas senger, a dainty looking little lady, win had patiently awaited his approach. Sh< put out a hand and smiled. "Ah, Miss Percy, is it ? I feared you hat not come. You believe in taking the lowes place, I see." "YeSj" answered she. " 'He that hum bleth himself shall be exalted,' you know and I don't see why it shouldn't apply t< she as well as he." Dr. Northcote laughet his low, peculiar laimh and Grace Perc; liked the only individual she had met ii Fairview, which was to be her home for om year. And as they walked through tin town, to her boarding house, she fully en joyed the large green yards and laughed a the many country sounds which are unfa miliar to the ears of one born and educate< in the city, and when they reached a ore tentious white frame house, with a yard a large as that belonging to any two dozei houses at her city home, with a summe house at one side and a little red and whit calf to be seen frolicking on the grass, sh said : "Oh ! Or. Xorthcote, I know 1 shal be perfectly happy here." "My dear young lady," answered th learned man, "to be perfectly happy falls t the lot of very few ; that you may be onet the few is my earnest wish; but here w are?" Mrs. Willard was at the door to-met them. She was a person of whom we wi make some mention. In stature, unusual! large, but of such graceful proportions a not appear ungaininly; decidedly of th blonde type. Voice?at the first meetingvery low and slightly lisping; in mannc graceful. A personage of vast important in the estimation of everybody, includin herself; a person to whom all paid hon age, but whom none loved or regarded wit any feeling akin to love. Her world wn husband, children and self. These she woi shipped; to these she was faithful; beyon these she knew little and cared less. If sh Was ambitious, it was to please or to ad vane them. To her face, all bowed the head < worshipful respect and deference; to lu back, was pointed tne nnger 01 rmicuu Yet, even those who knew and despise her real character, paid the homage she e> acted of all. How could they do otherwise The rector's wife knew she was every wh as good as Mrs. Willard, and her patronag nearly drove her distracted, but Judge Wi lard sent three children to the acadenn and Mrs. Willard's voice in the clioi brought many to church. The Willart paid the largest pew rent. And when Mrs. Prang, the doctor's wif whose ambition was to be the best dresse woman in Fairview, and whose only an successful rival was Mis. Willard, discove ed that the new velvet dress, which Mrs. c Willard had declared "just from Worth," si and which had been the wonder of the - town had actually been made right there e by their own dressmaker, under seal of a secresy; but the dressmaker was a woman? }> even then, although it nearly killed her to n have to keen it, she didn't dare to tell it, G forjudge Millard's family were the best h patients the doctor had, and had she told v it to her dearest friend Mrs. Willard would J have known it in just the length of time it h would have taken for that dearest friend to a reach a mutual confidant. Mrs. Willard's J position was established, was neither to be a made nor unmade, and everybody knew it, h and in this woman's house (trace Percy was h to find a home for the year. * b ' Miss Harriet Stone, with whom (trace h was to room, and who also was to teach at the tl academy, had not yet arrived, but was ex- si pected the following day. Grace felt an an.\- d lety to meet and know her. She saw inline- a diately that Mrs. Willard and she could nev- h er be more than strangers, and oh how she tl did hope to find in Miss Stone a friend. \\ And 011 the second morning after her arri- d val, as she stepped out of her door, which opened on a porch, there stood, a lady some fj years older than she, dressed in severe aim- s] plicity. She was bending over a valise, h and when Grace impulsively, almost eager- g ly, advanced and said, "Oh! Miss Stone, a 1 know." there was 110 answering smile, fj ? The person addressed finished locking her h " valise, then turned, looked at Grace,'and, si without altering the expression of her face, ^ whose severity matched that of her dress, <r : returned in a deep, unsympathetic voice: a "Good morning." . n Poor Grace; a whole bucket of ice-water h thrown over her would not have cooled her off any more suddenly. She would like a to have gone back into her room and cried jt off the disappointed feeling, but instead she (j ran lightly down the stairs, seated herself on t 1 the swing and gently swayed back and a 1 forth, lightly humming to herself. ti 1 Miss Stone's lips gave a slight curl. "A ^ . frivolous, froward miss. I expected my \\ more dignified greeting to subdue her, but s< evidently she needs a studied austerity to j( 1 accomplish that. I shall not allow my scieni tific researches after truth to be interfered tl ? with bv a rattle-brain chit of woman like t( > that." 1, And Miss Stone, head erect, elbows at a s( I right angle, walked to the parlor and seated (? herself, book in hand, and at breakfast she n ? sought in vain for a chance to begin the (.( t lesson in austerity. Grace neither address- n > ed nor paid the slightest attention to her, jv 1 but directed her conversation chiefly to the eldest son of the house, who sat opposite g and seemed to relish every syllable that tr > fell from those rosy lips. It was plain the si " lesson must be deferred. n, : Grace knew the only way to get rid of u . the disappointment, to ease her poor heart w . of its ache, was through its safety valve? atears, and when Miss Stone took her hat if and started down town, poor Grace threw a ' herself on the bed and sobbed aloud, but in ? a moment Miss Stone returned for some- a] thing she had forgotten. She looked at w . Grace in astonishment and thought, "Aha! o) my words and manner have had some effect after all. I seldom speak without effect. 1 sj am glad to see this;" then aloud, "Miss Per- ^ t cv. I hone vou are not ill! What is the . matter?" j-Jj "Pardon me," returned Grace, "1 am j,, . not in the habit of parading- my griefs. I w . supposed I was alone." j1; , Anyone else would have been taken u! aback, but not so Miss Stone. It was her ' office to abash, not to be abashed. She went le her way thinking. sj ; "There's more to her than I supposed. These pretty little women, who look as if jr 1 butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, always have a depth beneath that shallow- j(] ; looking surface. They are all deception, U1 ; too. I noticed her at breakfast; wouldn't ^ [ give poor ltichard Willard time to reply to my (juestons. She positively compelled f() | him to pay all his attention to her silly j1( nothings. I'll turn the table on you, miss. ()] You're no match for me." [ And she went her way, head erect, show- xv | ing in every gesture that she thought some sj ' people were destined by fate to rule the ' world; and that she was, in this respect, as n, ' in many others, a verv special favorite of ... : rate. There never could have been more op- n posite characters than these two. And, as a] I" is always the case, the weaker was, in a s( ; measure, tyranized over by the stronger. xv Grace was absolutely among strangers, j,. and her retiring manner and simple con1 versation. when onnosed by Miss Stone's I pedantic tone and imposing presence, was " \ calculated to throw her into the shade, and *v when once one gets into that position the a] world is quick to find it out, and the world, J1( j you know, "laughs with those who win." sj "f< si f CHAPTER II. IV The new teachers were a theme of general w ' discussion at the academy. r< 1 The students thought Miss Percy "so cute hi ; and nice." h : Miss Stone was held in great respect and si 5 fear. ai > The boys thought that with Miss Percy 1> 1 was a rare chance to shi rk work. 11 , Miss Percy never would call them to ac- h , count, they were sure, and ail early encoun- e 1 ter with her authority ensued. s( r Will Jeffreys liked his new teacher very n i much. Every day he put a bouquet of fresh ti - flowers on her desk. He thought she would ti ) certainly overlook any deficiency on his Ci i part; and as the composition to he handed hi in on the following day was his special aver- g 1 sion, he thought there would he a good e: t chance to try her. She had said very deci- w dedly that any failure to prepare the compo- o: - sitioii would be visited with the usual pun- n , ishment of three days'eontinenient in the > dormitory, during recreation hour, during r< I which time the paper should he prepared, h ; On the morning of the eventful day, Will's if 1 bouquet was unusually large and very tastib ly arranged, and Grace Percy's heart warmed e toward the l>oy for his kind wish to give her - pleasure. And as she inhaled their fragrance t and pinned one of the roses at her throat, - she laughingly said: "Will, I appoint you ^ 1 Sir Knight of the Roses," and he felt doubly v - secure. Si s When the papers were handed in, and h I Will's was missing, (Jrace looked up to ask v r for it, to find every eye in the room fastened 11 e on her. She knew something was up, and '( e when, in response to her inquiry, Will anil swered in a confident tone: "Not prepared, 11 Miss Percy," and glanced round the room tl e with a look of triumph, she knew what it '< o was, too. And when she quietly, hut in a r' if tone not to lie mistaken, returned: "Very j? e well, you will retire to the dormitory at re- b creation hours, and will hand in your paper '< ?t on?let me see, this is Tuesdav?on 'Hairs- a II day." * j' mi... l ?l- 4.^: i. ,.i ?JX w-_ jl y i in* iuok (m iriu 111 |>ii t'ii?wij;rw u; win-wi 41.-7- -s tonishment and chagrin, and the half-sup- v e pressed giggle was wholly suppressed. " - Miss Percy lost a friendship which had t r been very sweet, but she established her au- 3 e thority, and the boys re-echoed Miss Stone's > g remark: * l- "There's more to her than you'd suppose." s h Fairview boasted of quite a social element. " is (trace did not find herself entirely outside t r- the charmed circle, for, although M iss Stone 1 d was, of course, much superior in intellect e and was greatly respected, and looked up to ,v" e for her learning, yet (trace's sweet disposi- ' if tion won her a place in many a heart, but ' t usually in those hearts that Miss Stone would \ not stoop to conquer. And Bayard Gilbert, r d who was handsome in face and figure, ami c- one of the lions of Fairview, soon declared ( ?- himself a devoted admirer of .Miss Percy, t it Grace's life had been a quiet one. The only ' ;e sweetheart she had ever had was John St rat- ' 1- ton. They had grown up together. He did ' not remember the time he had not loved ir Grace, and she had supposed she loved him \ Is I until Bayard Gilbert began making love to \ her. Then she contrasted John'scalm, mat- t e, ter-of-fact prosiness, his taking-it-for-grant(l edness, with Bayard Gilbert's words and s id looks; and, oh ! dear, how John did lose by \ r- the contrast; and lately, whenever Bayard i aught her eye, he would look at her with uch a wistful look, and sigh deeply. Poor little Grace did pity him, and she ould not help thinking, "John never looked t me soand then, too, he paid her such retty compliments. She had neverthought mcli about her looks before, but since Mr. iilbert had likened her eyes to the stars and er voice to the nightingale, she began to ,-onder that John had never thought of that. likI for the first time in her life her voice ad a consciousness, an affected ring in it, nd she assumed coquettish airs. Honest ohn Straton would have been thunderstruck t this strange metamorphose; he would not t"-'i r<wii(rni'/.<>rl his stril 1 flit fnrwil rd. simole issie at all. Her letters were few and far etween, and, it seemed to him, they had ist some of their warmth. The first time lie thought came to him, he felt so conscience tricken for allowing the least suspicion of a oubt to creep into his heart that he sat down nd wrote her almost a love-letter. In fact, e did call her the star of his life, but he tore ne letter up, and blushed as he wondered hat Grace would have thought of such a eparture on his part. Her letters became fewer and fewer and nally stopped, and then came, one saying lie found she had been mistaken in her feellgs for him. She had now found tlieconenial soul. The letter was written in such high-flown romantic strain, that John at rst exclaimed "The dickens!" Then as e realized its meaning, he wept as only a trong man can weep, from the heart, but hen his grief had partly spent itself, he ave utterance to the following very forcible nd expressive ejaculation, the most relarkahle one of its kind he ever indulged iniself in: "Some tarnal jackanapes of a fellow, with lore goocl looks and soft words than brains, ' as turned the head of my darling, but 1 on't believe he has touched her heart." hen he re-read her letter, and now smiled dismal sort of smile at its effusive, romanc style, then thrust it into the fire and 1 atched it burn, thinking it should never ! ve to reproach her. Fortius honest, wholemled man did not believe he had really 1 >st his love. Grace looked in vain for a reply. She 1 lought that for once in his life John Strutni would be startled, and she wondered : OW IUl WOUIII express ills uiiguisii, mm n)lved to turn a deaf ear to all his reproach i; but alas! a whole week passed and he mde no sign. "lie was only waiting to : mtrol himself; he did not dare address her ; 1 his present state." But when two weeks ; ad gone, a thought came that made her ! itch her breath, turn deadly pale, and one reat big sob arose in her throat. Me had i iken his life?he couldn't live without her; i le was a murderess. But that very after- 1 0011 there came a letter from her sister, 1 ho said John had spent the oast Sunday itli them, and that he had studiously coided any allusion to her, and asked < she and John had laid aauarrel. Whal > revolution her feelings underwent. I Now (trace was angry; she tossed her head ' id said, with a very emphatic tone, "Very 1 ell." And John Stratton was a memory ( f the past; never again would she waste a ! lought on him, or, at least, she though" ic wouldn't. And she arrayed herself in ' lemost becoming manner for that evening; nt, alas for her fond anticipations, her newiund worshipper, who had been wont to go 5 itoeestacies over every additional ribbon, ' as blind to all her charms, and seemed to ive eyes for no one but Miss Stone. She 1 as wounded, heart sore, but more than al l se, amazed. Miss Stone had of late pro- ( ssed great friensdhip for Grace and had in- 1 nuated herself into her unsuspecting con- ( :lence. She had spoken of Bayard Gilbert ( i the highest terms, and told Grace and ,'erybody else that he was desperately in 1 >ve with her and repeated to her many a ' urely imagined "sweet thing" lie had said her, and thus completely won Grace, ( ho now was sincerely repentant of her 1 mner opinion of Miss Stone, and wondered ' jw she ever could have thought her cold ] * unsympathetic. And to Mr. Gilbert had ' [iss Stone carried many a message that 1 ould have made Grace's face tingle with mine, hut from which came this gallant \ mught: "The sweet little thing," to lxs lore in love with him than he had believed; 1 hidi was saying a great deal. And as he '< ad always been severely lot alone, in fact lost decidedly snubbed, by women of literry eharcter, and Miss Stone contributed to ' iveral papers of a scientific nature, and 1 as looked upon from a respectful distance ( v everybody, he alone being permitted to [jproach familiarly the august presence, no < onder his self esteem grew to undue pro- 1 ortions. Here at least was a groat mind 1 hich recognized and appreciated greatness; iid on this evening when Grace, to whom I ever before had he been wanting in wor- i lipful attention, saw he had no ears or eyes i >r any but Miss Stone, he was being per- < laded into the belief that he was born for Line; that there was that in him which f 'ould one day astound the world if only he ' nisp his powers from their slumbers. And i ..V. ,.1.^ 1 1 A.xll,?,l UJ.v* lwmi? i fiurt' MIC IlilU lilXKCll niui mill an nuui i ad promised to write an article on a subject 1 lesliould recommend, and she was to read < nd pass judgment on it. And when they I arted Mr. Gilbert's head was way up in le clouds. For several days Grace would 1 ardly speak to Miss Stone, but when one ; veiling the latter asked her to listen to ] miething, and read apparently from the lanuscript in her hand a really good arti- i cle?for Miss Stone had talent?on evolu- < on; and told her the author was Bayard < ilbert, and that she was bringing out his < itent powers for the good of humanity in < eneral and two persons who dearly loved iich other in particular, Grace was so over- ] helmed that she could only throw herself 11 Miss Stone's neck and beg her pardon for . er unjust suspicions. Oh! had she only known that over the jal manuscript Miss Stone and Mrs. Willard ad laughed until they fairly cried; but her jnorance was bliss. ! /'IT A 1VMLM) T T I v u;vi. imv in. The time for the much-talked-of narty at Irs. Willard's finally arrived, ana Grate ,*as lovely in a whi# Swiss dress, while ; it-in sash and slippers, her really beautiful air.hanging in natural curls below her i raisi, and her only ornaments pink gera- i ium blossoms and their green leaves. She joked what she was, a natural lovely girl, i "When she reached the parlors she looked roifcul for Bayard Gilbert, but he was not Itere. And as slu.* wondered at his absence, : ? and behold! he entered, Miss Stone, esplendent in cardinal satin, on his arm, otli laughing and talking loudly andseemug in the merriest of humors. Everybody joked at them and there were many nudges nd looks of pity east on poor Grace, who ust rose from her seat and looked at them, s they carelessly spoke to her in passing, fith an amazed expression, and, forgetful f the crowd, turned her head and followed hem with her gaze, and it was not until Irs. Willard approached and said: "Did i. 'Oil I'Vl'l MT UUt\ IJOll^V Ml lUIIIJIR'H;!^ Ill IUV1' s Mr. (iillicrt is with Miss Stone?" that lie realized it all, and, without thinking of ir earing for what might he said, she new o her room, and, to herown amazement, ler tears were of anger and mortification mly. She understood it all now. Miss >tone was false; Bayard Gilbert weak, ickle, and she, oh ! what could she say of r own miserable, weak, silly self, how .ie despised herself. She felt she would five up, almost life, to undo the past year. As for that despicable little man, him she lid not blame, he had only acted out his nail re. And Miss Stone?after all; she had >een the means of saving her a life of sorow?she ought not to feel hard towards . ler. But JohnStratton ! Oh! then she realized I vlmt she had done. Now, then, her tears vere not of anger or of mortification, but mly of unutterable woe. She only prayed she might be spared the limine of ever meeting him. Now, indeed, vould life be to her that of "a withering use on a stem." And when Miss Stone came up, after the guests had all departed, '5 she found a very sad face turned towards i her. She thought she knew the cause of the I _ sadness. She thought: "she has learned 1 ~ her lesson." "Poor, little stricken flower, I've done all j in my power to prevent this, and Bayard has c promised to come ancrtake you out riding li to-morrow afternoon and you must make it p up with him. Men are so silly, dear. I had g no idea?why, what do you mean ?" I n "I mean," returned Grace, who had drawn : tj herself up to her full height and stood look-1 T ing at Miss Stone with the utmost scorn. j tl "I've been a little fool ; but, excuse me, I j tl think you'veheen a bigger one:" {tl For once in her life Miss Harriet Stone | n was nonplussed. To save her life she could j c not say a word. She knew it was true, and b she now saw also that she had failed in her j n object. She was forced to acknowledge that! a the "little chit of wortianhood" had outwit- j y ted her and Bayard Gilbert was a white elc- ti pliant on her hands. ti lie came the next afternoon to take Grace j s< driving. She was "not at home" and Miss rl ; > J? af?. ,i? I MOIie, IO IUT Cliagilll HUU iUi. vuiucii rj m- n light, was obliged to'go in her stead. He I drove through the principal streets, and in t< half ait hour everyb<TOy,."krrew it, and com- p ments wore fteely circulated. Miss Stone t< had never been seen riding before?with a a beau, at least. He evidently felt very im- " portant, but was shortly relieved of the en- c tire amount of his burden of self-conse- b quence. s< "When they had reached a lovely spot some if few miles from town, where the violets and A cowslips were just pee])ing out, and when tl Miss Stone had become quite poetic over A them, Bayard seized the opportunity while o this mood lasted, to unburden himself: "Miss n Stone, you've been the billow on which I've V been heaved to fame. It is to you I owe it h that posterity shall bless my name. Will o you accept it and wear it for your own? ti iio the guiding star of my life ? Say yes, h dear Harriet, and by that one little mono- e: syllable raise from the depths one who?" But he was cut short. Miss Stone could not t< control herself another minute, but burst p into laughter. Bayard just stared at her in o stupefied wonder. a "()h! Mr. Gilbert, you'll kill me! Do you i' not realize what presumption it is in you to v so address me?" si "Why, Miss Stone, what do you mean? ^ You've encouraged me; yes, made love to me yourself for over two months. I thought h you wanted to marry me. Prof. Nathens said I really ought to relieve you of your 11 suspense." A "What?" cried she. turning deadly pale, for if she valued the good opinion of any s< man on earth* that man was Prof. Xathens, *1 "have you dared to mention this affair to S1 liim." "Why, I've told him all about it." \ "Youimpudent,conceited, little specimen lj if humanity, because I've deigned?for rea- fi sons of my own?to allow you to call me ^ friend, you've made me ridiculous in the B ?yes of one of nature's noblemen. Oh! you if miserable wretch!" And AIiss Stone, of di . aim, dignified demeanor, actually beat the 01 lir with her fists. T Bayard had stopped thehorseand now he e< said in a very deliberate tone: 11 "Please get out of my buggy, Miss Stone." A' And she, so full of rage and mortification ti is to be hardly aware of her action, me- ^ hanically obeyed him. 01 Then he made her a mock bow, almost to >*' the ground, and said: B "Your gracious highness is pleased to be hangeful in your notions. I can do no bet- tl ier than to imitate your example. I have S(jhanged my mind in regard to our drive, tl jrood afternoon, Miss Stone." And he w sprang into the buggy and she w<nf~ left d; :here in the road, a good six miles from ri liome. His method of revenge was characteristic if the man. Little-souled people always recenge themselves, and, too, always in some S( little way. And in his delight at the an- tl loyanee and inconvenience he had occasion- \V 3d Miss Stone, he almost forgot his own s< mortification. ti And if ever a footsore, temper-sore, tlior- [j Highly dejected woman crept in at Mrs. 0] Willard's back gate 'and through the side way sought her room (it was several hours ai liter), Harriet Stone was the woman. a The next day there was an odd look on Prof. Nathens' face when he met her in the y, tiall, and she knew immediately that he must be in possession of the facts of the tl Irive. - p; She tried to resign, but was held up to her ontract and had to "grin and bear it," and fc lier own sufferings were ten-fold what she Sl had caused others to bear. , Mrs. Willard amount her many charaeteristics possessed that of inquisitiveness, p] ind she had practiced the art until she had ai reached a point of perfection rarely attain- si jd. She never liked Grace. ri The latter never fawned upon her and P1 seemed perfectly indifferent as to whether, "j Mrs. AVillard regarded her with favor or not; y md on one occasion had she acted directly t\ in opposition to Mrs. Willard's advice, and ii this to that lady was an offence no amount of rontrftion could efface. And then, too, she n had destined Mr. Gilbert for a niece of hers, p And now this girl must step in and spoil p "" oiwl Qf/mn ui/lofl III"! ou i?nr auu 1ui no uivjiv) ukivv? wi uul abetted by each other, had planned to <> frustrate Grace's "designs" on Mr. Gilbert, tl And just here, when matters have become ti most interesting, now that the crisis is reachI'd, Miss Stone suddenly drops her from her d confidence. It was too bad ! And Grace said tl carelessly, when questioned, Oh, since Mr. 0 Gilbert had dropped her for Miss Stone she tl knew nothing about his affairs. She did not it pretend not to have been in love with him, when accused of it. And people soon said f< vhe had been flirting, and that for once Bay- t< ird Gilbert had met his match. Without meaning to deceive anyone, and C( without caring what they might say, or think she was really deceiving them all <r und doing the best thing in the world for ^ her own cause. Mrs. Willard was not to be q balked of her object. Her next step was to a sound Mr. Gilbert, and as he was shallow, q she soon knew as much as he did and from the insinuating remarks of Mrs. Willard, <r Miss Stone knew she had found it all out, y und she knew that everybody in town would ti laugh over the joke before the day was y over. It is needless to say the remainder tl of her stay was one of exile from society, y 1 ler only wish was to put as much distance (, as possible between Fairview and herself. S( Bayard Gilbert tried to rewin Grace, but e ignomiously failed and soon found another ^ star, whose brilliancy he worshipped with v all the ardor of a first love. j The school year was fast drawing to a t close, and now Grace's one dread was John, t Would she see him, she wondered. She a would rather die than face John Stratton. t Then she would resolve to pluck up eour- n age and strength and tell him all about it; v but as she saw, in imagination, his look of t mingled pity and .scorn, sue snuuaereu, ami i said: "No! no!" I And she thought, maybe, if she never saw h him she might forget him. Finally the t year was ended; she was going home? o home without John. She hade farewell to s: Fairview with a heavy heart. She had ti entered the place hopefully, happy, and p oh! with what a change she left it. p During the journey she planned her fu- v ture life. It was to he duty; stern duty p was to he her path in the future?no pleasure c for her any more. John had gone out of c her life. She didn't exoeet any one to meet ti her, so when, she stood looking for a cab, a e tall form suddenly stood before her; and li she was folded in two strong arms. She i was completely taken by surprise, and li when she looked into his sturdy face and u true eyes she just put both arms round his t neck and cried so penitentlv and lovingly, J "John! John!" And the past year was as though it had never been. And of the crowd who wit- e nessed that meeting not one smiled a smile s of derision. The emotion here was pure a and true, and was respected. And to many c a heart it caused a thrill as it brought hack v memories of "It might have been."?St. i Louis Itejwbficaii. u ipswIlflttMusi THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. A Chicago man has discovered and prolaims to the world that tlie study of Kngish grammar lias not produced and cannot roduce a correct use of the English ianuage. lie proves it by the rules of column sense. The correct use of language is night when children are learning to use it. 'he mistakes they hear and imitate before liey are eight or nine years old abide with liein through life, or are uprooted only by tie most persistent enori aim mmi-whu-hiuiess. After lmd habits of speech are formed hildren are set to learning names and cominations of arbitrary phrases, defining, rolling, and hair-splitting a lot of incoherent nd meaningless terms; parsing and analzing to the utmost nicety upon the (plosion whether an adverbial phrase or a paricipial adjective is the subject or object of Dine verb 011 the other side of the page, 'lie whole has about as much practical bearng upon reading and understanding good higlish as the old schoolmen's question as j Tiow many angels can stand upon the oint of a needle has to the ability of a man j resist cheating his neighbor or running way with his neighbor's wife. Then conies diagraming" and other rigmarole, often rushing and destroying the essence of the eautiful thought or majestic sentence in nine great English masterpiece. Parsing < a waste of time, both to teacher and pupil. likI the more analytical and precise it is, lie more useless and absurd it becomes, is a rule definitions are only combinations f words, and the man with the latest granilar simply gives the combination a new ivist. They befog the pupil's mind and ave as little influence upon the correctness f bis language as the definitions in a dictionary of the steam-engine and its parts, ave upon the success of a locomotive buildr, or a boiler-maker in his business. This subject was recently discussed by the achers of St. Louis, and all those who took art in the discussion favored the abolition f the present teaching of grammar. They [lvocated instruction in the language and 1 the proper use of words, by means of eonersation, pictures and other methods, i 11:ead of rules, definitions and analyses, diich do not teach the use of language. ' ()ne aeher said he wanted a new method of aching the English language in a common ?nse way; and another said that the gramnir as now taiurht was more of a curse than blessing. Grammar, at the best is only the technical jience of the language, and is worth the :udy only of those who make language a jecialty. If it were not taught in the hools, not one person in a thousand would oluntarily take it up. It would become ke botany or entomology?a hobby, a pasmeor a pursuit for those whose taste and isuro led them voluntarily to its study, ut, as a common school and general study, . ought to be banished. Those people who o not love and admire flowers are destitute f some of the senses that give pleasure, hose who do not admire good English are jually rare. Yet neither botany or gramiar is essential to any appreciation of the owersof the field or the flowers of literaire. In a certain class in Yale College, the est writer of English never saw the inside f an English grammar. How much of his outh did Shakspeare spend in the study of inglish grammar ? Of course, no one has the slightest idea mt grammar will be abolished in our j ,'hool.s. Every school-book publisher in le land would forbid it, and school-boards oulcl not, in the face of their prohibition, are to suggest, much less carry out, such a evolution.?Detroit Free Drew. CIRCUS HUSTLERS. "Yes, it has been a booming season for mie of the shows; but some of them, on le other hand, have gone to pieces," said a ell known advance agent, in the Union quare the other day. "You see," heconnued, "the big fish have swallowed up the ttle fish, and there has been a good deal f squirming." "But can you tell me what a 'hustler' is, ad what he has to do with the services of circus?" queried the Star reporter. "What do you know about a 'hustler,' oung man?" "Only this," said the reporter, displaying le following advertisement from a sportive aper. Wantfd.?Forty more first-class hill-posters ir United Shows. We have already secured jvcnty good men, but, as we anticipate sixty ays' opposition this spring right on the start, e want forty more reliable bill-posters. They ma! lio irnnd war workers, true to their em >? >* "V - --I loyers, hustlers, and ready, day or nighl lor IV emergency. Not afraid to light for their <ie if it should he necessary to protect thoughts. Only those who are' well known hill asters need apply. We want no lithographers r programmers. ' To the right kind of men long igagements and liberal wages will be paid", fant none hut sober, liberal men. Consider vo weeks' silence respectful negative. Apply nmediately to . "Well that is a pretty bold advertiselent," said the man of sawdust, "but 'hust>rs' must be had, and I don't Know of any etter way of getting them. People who o to circus shows in the city have no idea f the trials we have to encounter in out-ofte-way country places. Not only is there le competition of rival companies, but the mntrymen, although they will come any istance to see the show, seem to look upon :ie show people as their natural enemies utside of the canvas. It is necessary, terefore, for every company to carry with ; a number of strong fellows, who, as this dvertisement says, are 'not afraid to fight >r their side if it should become necessary > protect their rights.' " "You mean to say, then, that the circus mipanies carry fighters with them?" "Of course. Why, when a circus man oes off to some out of the way places in the outhwest he takes his- life in his hands, 'ody Hamilton used to tell a story of his dventures in a town somewhere in Texas, 'lie show had a large crowd at both the day nd evening performances, but many neroes of the vicinity had tried to force their ray in without paying. On being ejected, hey vowed vengeance. It was evident rhen the time came for striking the tents hat there would be trouble. The night ras pitchy dark and torches were lighted utside the line of the tents. Then it was L?en that little knots or negroes nan gamer(1 and were watching the proceedings with alien expression. The circus men knew > hat was coming and prepared for action. l tent was never struck much quicker than hat. It was folded, packed and placed in he wagons, when there was a movement mongthe negroes. The circus men knew hat the moment for action had come. Aluost in the twinkling of an eye the torches re re extinguished, and in the stillness of he night came thesound of the tent men as hey descended upon the negroes' heads. Sach of the tent men had selected the negro ie was to attack, and silently and swiftly lie work was done, and the circus moved ut of town before daybreak. Tody used to ny that six negroes were left dead on the eld, and that the show people were not irosecuted, because it would have been ini ossible to have identified the killers. It v&s certainly a case of the lives of the circus icople against those of the negroes, and the ircus people did not propose to take any bailees. This was one of the most serious ights that has occurred in some time, but very season there is a greater or less nuni>er of these encounters which never get nto the papers; and the show folks have earned to go prepared. So you see, young tuiii, a 'hustler' is a very useful element in lie interior economy of a circus."?Areir Vor/c Star. How to Uskthk Eyks.?There is noothr sense to which people trust so much as to ight, yet there are few who have ever taken ny special pains to improve the faculty of bservation. In all cases of excitingevents, witnessed by many persons, it is astonishng to note tiie wide variations in the stories if the incidents told by those present. This is due principally to the faulty observation of the spectators. Details are confused in their minds because they have not learned to use their eyes properly. It is true that some persons have great natural gifts of observation, while others seem unable to fix matters upon their memories in their true relation to each Other. Thus, for example, almost any one, passing a group of animals in a j field, can distinguish three, four or five without counting them. Even when whirl-1 ed past in a railroad car most persons can glance at a very small number of objects and be instinctively able to tell just how many there are. But as the number increases the attention must be more and more fixed and the'mind strained to "take in" the exact number at a glance, until, beyond a certain point, few observers can lie accurate in their appreciation of the objects they have merely flashed their eyes over. Yet this accuracy is of great value to people in .ill Hie iiftnirs nf life, jind often matters of the gravest import depend wholly upon the impressions-that have been left on casual spectators by a series of events. It is manifest that a mind trained to note all that the eye mechanically sees has a great advantage over one which gathers only a vague picture, in which, even when all the features are present, cause and effect are inextricably confused. It is an old story that RobertIloudin used to cultivate his powers of observation while walking rapidly along the boulevards of Paris by selecting a shop window and noting in his mind the objects displayed therein. Constant practice enabled him to remember every object in the most varied displays after one rapid glance as he passed on the run. Probably it is not .every one who can become a Robert Iloudin, but any one can cultivate the powers of observation far beyond their original capacity. HOW CABLE MESSAGES ARE RECEIVED. Until the forepart of November, the French cable, having its terminus at North Fastham, Mass.", employed the flash system of signaling. Now the cable is worked duplex on the Sterns system, using an automatic recorder by which the messages are received in ink on a narrow strip of paper. By the system which has been displaced, the messages were spelled out by flashing a ray of light back and forth across a stanI dard line, the right and left flashes corresi ponding with the dots and dashes of the ordinary telegraphic alphabet. ! In this system the light is flashed by reflection from an extremely light mirror, which is turned to right and left by the opposing influences of positive and negative impulses. This system has the advantage of being operated with very slight electric impulses, but also the disadvantages of leaving no permanent record. Tosecure the latter very important end the recording instrument has been adopted. The press dispatch announcing the change, states that in the new recorder the ink is discharged by the agency of electricity and "not oy capillary atiracnon as m uinui uiblc recorders." This statement is incorrect, electricity being now similarly employed in the recording instruments used at Heart's Content, the New Foundland station of the Anglo American Company's cables. A recent visitor to Heart's Content describes as follows the method of receiving messages from that point. The recorder is a horseshoe magnet, electrified by the usual circles of fine wire, and attracting a small metallic coil. The coil is hung between the magnetic poles, and by a light lever and a thread almost as fine as the strand of a cobweb, is connected with a delicate siphon hung in a little reservoir of ink. The ink is electrified, so as to produce a repulsion of the particles, making it flow more readily through the siphon, which outside is about the size of a darning needle, and the interior tube scarcely larger than a hair. The lower end of the siphon rests against a paper tape playing perpendicularly through rollers. The whole machine is almost of gossamer fineness and flexibility, so as to minimize the electric strain necessary for working the cable. Let us imagine now that a coming message has been signalled from far across the ocean at Valentia. The operator at first opens the simple machinery that works the brass rollers. On the center of the tape, as it passes between the rollers, the siphon at first marks only a straight line. Suddenly the line swerves to the right or left. The i..?. IllCSSUge I1US ?lill ICU, miu HIV tun K7i V..,. siphon has begun its record. Worked by two keys, and positively or negatively electrified, the coil swings the siphon point now to one side, now to the other, along the tape. Responsive to the trained hand of the operator, the tilament of ink marks out one notch, two notches, three notches; then suddenly it may be a high elevation or derpression until the delicate line traced 011 the tape looks like the tiny outline of a mountain range. Rut it is a range whose every hilltop, peak and valley means an alphabetical symbol to the telegraphers'# eye. The recorder is the invention of the famous electrician .Sir William Xhompson. How delicate an interpreter it is may be inferred from the fact that ten jars work 1,800 miles of cable between Valentin and Heart's Content, while twenty-five jars of the same electric power would be needed to work ;f>0 miles of land wire; in other words the recorder is more than twelve times as efficient for its purpose as the ordinary Morse instrument. The recorder traces its characters on the tape about as fast as a slow penman copies a letter. Besides its delicacy of work, the recorder, as its name imports, has the name of leaving the record of the message.?Scientific American. AXC IK XT IXSTKl'MKXTS OF TORTURE.? In a tower in Nuremberg, writes a traveler K............. (1-liai-o UK. nrn?prveiI ill VTl'l 111(111 ,> , AJ3 <4 iWWlll If 11V ?v i?tv |/4 V?x - , vx. a number of very curious instruments of torture used in Nuremberg hundreds of years ago, before the days of jails and penitentiaries. There are thumbscrews of the most approved patterns, and helmets for gossiping men and women. A singularly cheerful piece of furniture is a large, heavy wheel, on one side of which stands out a large, sharp piece of iron. In the glorious days of old an offender who had to be punished with the wheel was stripped naked and firmly bound to a plank, face downward. The piece of iron on the wheel was rolled up and down and across the victim's back till justice was satisfied or the victim was dead. Inasmuch as the spike was long enough to get half way through the man's body, and was always heated red hot, the victim generally died, and justice was entirely satisfied. it was not as expeditious as the guillotine, but it was just as certain. The only man whoever survived it was adjudged a magician because he survived it, and was promptly beheaded forbeinga magician. That settled him. He didn't bother Nuremberg any more. There are also displayed switches made of tine threads of steel, which were laid on the bare back with great effect. A little of these things goes a great way, but on being told that in the adjoining tmver is the "steel maiden" you get over your qualmishness. Your party is ? i- .1 taken in cnarge ny a guiue, who snows you i a large assortment of horrors before you j come to the chief one, as a sort of preparations. There are stocks of all kinds, gags for tattlers, handcuffs, anklets and cradle, the bed of which is filled with spikes, in which old-time offenders were faithfully rocked to sleep?a sleep from which there was no awakening. There are long tables with a screw at ton and bottom, to which men were strapped by the hands and feet, the screws then turned till the unfortunate man was torn apart. In those cheerful days, when a merchant, baker or butcher was found selling his goods by false weight or measure, he was placed in a cage and carried all through the city, with his name and trade fastened very conspicuously in front. After making the grand tour, he was taken, j cage and all, to the river, and ducked again and again, till it was thought that his lesson was suflicient to prevent repetition. Perhaps some such form might be advantageous in these days. Wife beaters in those times were severely punished. They were fur nished with close-fitting helmets, from which heavy weights were suspended. They were given a conspicuous place in the public square, appropriately labelled and placed in stocks, with heavy weights attached to their arms and feet, and there they sat the livelong day, subjected to the jeers and ridicule of the town. Scolding wives were put in cages, with gags in their mouths, ana exposed in the public square. You are shown ail kinds of beheading blocks and gallows upon which noted villains have gone to their reward, while the walls are covered from top to bottom with pictures of the practical operations of the various instruments that filled the room. AMERICAN ENTERPRISE IN MEXICO. Within the last two or three years the attention of Americans has been turned; as it never was before, to the trade possibilities of Mexico. A large number <*f our.countrymen have been induced to interest themselves in American enterprises. Railroads have been built, factories nave been opened, oil wells and refineries constructed, silver and gold minespurchased. Except the English company which owns the Vera Cruz road, nearly all the railroad concessions are in the hands of American capitalists. The road to El Sal to was bought hv the PalmerSullivan Company. Theroau from Celaya to Irapuato was bought by the Boston people. That these new Mexican railroads are looked upon as almost purely American enterprises is shown by the fact that their weekly earnings are regularly reported in the Commercial and Financial Chronicle, side by side, with the earnings of our own roads. Until recent years Mexico has been so disturbed by internal convulsions and external complications, that it has failed to makethe j progress of which its situation and natural resources give promise. Awakened to a desire for commercial and industrial activity, she found herself without lines of communication and without any organization of her labor forces. To promote her own advancement she has opened her doors to the enterprise of others, invited capital in to arouse her labor forces to activity and give fair guarantees of profit to the undertakings which are to develop her industrial energies. American capital finds ready employment in developing Mexican resources. Ex-Governor R. C. McCormick, of Arizona, has invested heavily in coffee estates. Dr. Wise, of Virginia, and others are engaged in colonizing the rich Pacific coast of Chiapas. Ex-Governor Shepherd and others are developing the mining interests of the Northern States of the Republic. The most recent enterprise, however, is a real estate and building operation in the capital itself. A company is about to be organized to buy and improve a tract of land in the City of Mexico, lying on both sides of the Paseo de la Reforma, which extends virtually from the centre of the city to the Castle of Chapulte. pec. The tract comprises more than 5,000 ordinary city lots. A portion of the orice? $o00,00(>?was recently paid in the City 01 Mexico, and the balance is to be in this city in a few days, on the arrival of Senor Salvado Malo, the former owner of the land. It is the purpose of the new owners to improve the property by building houses ranging from ?10.000 to ?20.000 aloinr the Paseo, and also a large American hotel. Luxurious Southern Homes.?But in the opposite rich Louisiana lowlands, were those opulent plantations fronting on the river and the lakes of its old beds, which when the levees were broken or cut would be submerged, except on certain wide ridges of the Lake Providence banks, upon which ran the only road that was practicable. Here Southern houses and gardens were situated, and a succession of such lovely residences as rendered it one of the garden spots in America. These rich estates had long been the homes of a cultivated people, or ever since the French colonization of Louisiana at the beginning of the last century. "The houses were as handsome as Southern ones could be made, built in villa style, with wide porticoes or galleries and large halls running through them. "Windowsglazed to the* floor and opening on shady porches, overlooked beautiful gardens in which were rosessuch asrivalled those ofCashmere. The green roofs of hot-houses glinted in the sunshine. Mirrors lined spaces on the walls not occupied with rare paintings, and great chandeliers swung from their pendents in the lofty ceilings." Broeatelles and velvets covered the soft cushioned lounges and graceful fauteuils, and satin and lace curtains flowed round the tall windows.^ These were the luxurious homes of the wealthy planters, whose sons and'daughters had inherited the taste and culture of France. Every means of elegant leisure, amusement, luxury, and convenience were assembled under tlieir roofs. Books for the studious, horses and equipage for the gay, row1? - X - Al.r. l.>lry-k LVnAuf.L' of f Lo 1 \Q f\ f* UUillS iui inc iuivc* i uicoio tit Mcivi*. the plantations were full of game; cellars were tilled with rare wines, and the owners were famed fur and wide for dispensing a lavish hospitality. Family trees had ramifications that extended over half of Louisiana and Mississippi. Washington in 184:3.?Washington was in 184:3 the greatest slave mart in the United States. Within sight of the Capitol; and not far from the lower gate, and near, if not upon, the land where the Public Garden now is, was a building with a large yard around it, inclosed with a high fence. Thither slaves were brought from all the slaveholding regions, like rattle to the Chicago stock yards, and locked up until sold. There were regular auction (fays for those not disposed of at private sale. The Chicago tire destroyed a hard cracker which I had preserved as a specimen by which the nurchasers tested the age of slaves. And to this day, if there is anything the average Southern negro does not know, it is his own nrc. The slaves were placed upon a block, and when a question arose as "to his age, the auctioneer requested them to bite from a cracker which all auctioneers kept for such occasions. The theory was that while a slave could masticate well he could work. Nearly all the labor at Washington was performed by slaves, many of whom were hired from the neighboring States. The slaves were expected to collect their wages monthly and take them home on someSaturdny night. One morning J missed my boots, and when I went for the bootblack he was missing also. After a few days I saw a procession of captured slaves, who had sought their liberty in a Potomac schooner, chained two and two, conducted toward the slavepen; and there I noticed my bootblack trudding along in my boots. I had made a successful canvass for Congress in those boots, but they failed the slave in his canvass for freedom.?John II ent worth \y " Jiern iniseencee.'1 Carrying Concealed Weapons.?It must be admitted that with the growth of this country and with its advancement in civilization, crime should have decreased. It cannot truthfully be said that this is the case. Without seeking other causes, it can he asserted, without fear of contradiction, that one reason for this is the criminal habit of carrying concealed weapons. We use the worcC'criminal" advisedly, for whatever is contrary to law is criminal. We do not consider it the mark of a brave man to carry concealed weapons, but rather the contrary. Of course there are circumstances in which carrying them is justifiable, but for a a man to put on his pistol in the morning as regularly as he puts on his coat does no credit to him as a citizen nor as a man. Especially is this a dangerous habit in the young. Many of them think that it is manly. Poor fools. True manhood consists of courage of soul, in daring to do right, in abhorring bullying, bruggadocia, and rowdyism. Let a thin- Lumed youth of violent temper and great .dea of his own importance and honor?heaven save the mark?stick a pistol habitually in his pocket, and he is making of himself a dangerous element in a commuuity.?Mobile liegis/tr.