Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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J$ __ ? ? ?? = ?? ????:? ^^ -? * lewis m. grist, proprietor. j %\\ Jjnbepmiienf Jfamilg Ifafospagcr: Jfor fjjc ^Iromolion of Ijjc political, Social, ^grimlhiral anb Commercial interests of % Soulj). |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 29. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THUESDAY, JULY 5, 1883. NO. 27. ^elected ?0*trg. | ? A QUESTION. j ( If death be an eternal sleep, }1 Why doth the Spring return I ? To scatter flowers beneath our feet ; 1 And the wastes of Winter spurn? r I If death be an eternal sleep, ! y Why doth the buried grain ,, Send forth new harvests for men to reap And whiten the spreading plain ? If deatii bean eternal sleep, a Why the ocean's ceaseless flow, When the planets all their journeys keep And never wearvgrow ? If death be an eternal sleep, [ Why do we hope for heaven When we approach the mercy seat ^ And ask to be forgiven ? a If death be an eternal sleep, When will justice come To those who toil for others' meat And receive but scantv crumbs ? v If death be an eternal sleep, (. Why did the angels go 0 The poor man to bear, to Abraham's seat , While the rich man was in woe? * If death be an eternal sleep, o Why wasman e'er born. And why should he his vigils keep li mere is no coming mum; He JFtorg ieUet. ? ~A I-IOIV STORY, t _ e How I came to be sitting:, in very good a company, one glorious September evening, a in the little moon-lighted garden of the ho- t tel at Algiers, is neither here nor there. My companions about the round table, v which was garnished with slim bottles, ^ glasses, and piles of cigarettes, were all ^ Frenchmen; three, old Algerian colonists ; t the fourth, an ex-lieutenant of the navy, who had exchanged a life on the ocean wave a for that of a hunter in three-quarters of the s globe. 11 Before dinner, I had picked up in the sa- s TliiCKoilln'c rrnrillfl hnolr. which I had e ?VA;n i/uviuviuw o ?*??? ?J Q never seen before, and my saying something about this turned the'conversation in the a garden upon wild beasts and the hunting of * them. ' _ Some wonderful stories were told, especially by the ex-sailor, though not a bit a more wonderful than one hears from old Indian sportsmen. ^ For the matter of that, the most extraor- J dinary sporting story I ever heard was told . by?of all men in the world?a hare hunter, t who capped therewith a snake-and-elvphant narrative, quite unique of its kind. a Presently, a short silence, caused by the uncorking and tasting of a new bottle of Hermitage, was broken by the eldest of the party, who had not said much before. He s was a good-looking man of fifty, with beard \ grayer than his head, and a merry twinkle ^ in his eye. What he said I shall repeat, for . the sake of clearness, in the first person, j just as he told the story himself. r "The adventure of which I am going to j( tell you, gentlemen, happened to me a good i many years ago. It was my first serious interview with a lion. Like most serious things, it had a comic side, too. "I was a young man, then, and had been , some half-dozen years in Constantine, farming in partnership with a friend, an old col- . onist, whose acquaintance I had made on x board ship coming out from Marseilles. u "Our business was corn and cattle raising, 1 and we did very well together, until my Af a fnTrAt* on/1 offor f T IJIII LI1C1 U1CU v/l il iCYClj <U1U U1VV1 Uiwv JL vvvi*. a dislike to the place. I thought I would a shift my ground into this province, Algiers, push toward the frontier, and get a grant of y Government land, and make a farm of it. a 80, getting a neighbor to give an eye to ^ things in my absence, I started 011 my pros- v pecting expedition. 1 "I say I, but 1 should say we, for there jj were three of us, sworn comrades as ever j, were. "First, there was your humble servant; ^ secondly, there was my horse Marengo, and j a better never looked through a bridle. He a was bred bet ween a Barb sire and an Eng- ' lisli mare belonging to the Colonel of Chasseurs of whom 1 bought him in town, when his regiment was going home. He stood about fifteen hands two, carried the Barb r head, and the rest of his boby was all bone ^ and muscle. His temper was as good as his courage was high; me he would follow 1 about like a dog, but he had one failing and ? that was an insuperable objection to the g close proximity of anything, except one ? thing that stood on four legs. We all have our peculiarities, and this was his. Bipeds j( were all very well, but multiply the legs y by two, and he let fly immediately, and y never missed his aim y "Such was Marengo. / "Thirdly, there was Cognac, the faithful- y est, the most honest, the oddest, and the y wickedest little dog the world ever saw. He was more like a terrier than anything | else, with a short yellow coat, a fox's head, j 1 very long ears, and a very short tail. The shrillness of his bark nierced vour ears like 1 u knife, but the artfulness of his howl?and j j lie always howled if left alone?battles do- i _ script ion. During the fourteen years 1 had :l him, he seldom left me, day or night. On a journey he would run beside me, and p, when tired, get up and sit 011 my wallet, j The greatest pleasure of his life was to steal j behind people and secretly bite their legs. J , "By some mysterious affinity, he and Ma-! rengo were friends from the very first. They I now sleep under the same tree. I51 "Well, we started, and after going over a good deal of ground, I thought I had decided 011 a location, and turned my face home-11 ward. My direction was by Alma, to strike 1 the great road that runs under the Atlas 1 eastward into Constantine. "It was about 8 o'clock one morning, 1 when I had been some two hours in the 1 saddle, that I emerged from a narrow valley, or ravine, through which the road ran, ' on a sandy plain dotted with bushes and scrub. "I had just laid the reins on Marengo's j neck, when suddenly he gave a tremendous " shy that pitched me clean off. "The next minute, with a horrible roar, 1 a lion sprang right at his head. j < "I made sure he was on top of him, and j < , so he would have been, but as Marengo 1 wheeled short around like lightning on his 1 hind legs, the streaming reins caught the j brute's forepaw, and as it were, tripped him i so that he fell sideways 011 the road. 11 "The heavy jerk nearly brought the horse j down, but the throat-latch broke, the bridle I ? was pulled over his ears, and recovering j i himself, he darted away among a grove ofj < trees that stood by the wayside. "So intent was the lion on the horse, that i 1 he paid 110 attention to me lying defenseless I: before hi 111. "Crawling swiftly along the ground, lie j 1 pursued Marengo, whom 1 gave up for lost? 1 for his chance against the lithe brute among 1 the trees seemed hopeless. "However, as luck would have it, there 1 was an open space about a dozen yards I < across. In the centre of this Marengo took liis stand, with his tail toward the lion, and : his head turned sharply back over his slioul/lor uvif/tlniur lihn ! '4Ie stood quite still, except for the slight shifting of his hind feet una lifting of his : quarters, which I knew meant mischief. "The lion probably thought so too, for he kept dodging to try to take his opponent j by a flank movement. But the old horse : knew his game, and pivoting on his fore- i legs, still brought his stern gui>sto bear on the enemy. "Soon with a roar, the lion made his' spring, but Marengo lashed out both heels together with such excellent judgment of time and distance, that catching him full in the chest, he knocked him all of a heap to the ground, where he lay motionless. i?hen with a neigh of triumph, and a floursh of his heels, away he galloped through he grove out on the plain, and was safe. "The lion lay so still, that I thought he was lead,-or at any rate, quite horn an combat, nd was just returning to pick up the bridle i ind follow Marengo, when he sat up on his : launches. This caused me to stop. "As he sat there, with his head loosely ! vagging from side to side, and mouth half ipen, he looked quite vacant and idiotic. < "Suddenly his head stopped wagging, he iricked his ears, and by the flash of his eyes nd changed expression, I knew he had i een me. "Only one thing was to be done, and I did i t. The outermost tree was large and low ranched. To it I ran, and up ft I scrambled, and had just perched in a fork about 1 ifteen feet above terra firma, as the lion : rrived at the bottom. 4 < "Looking up at me with"two red-hot coals 1 or eyes, his long, nervous tail lashing his ides, every hair on his body turned to nre, and his great claws protruded, he hattered at me as a cat chatters at a bird mt of reach. His iaws snapped like a steel- , rap, and his lookVas perfectly diabolical. 1 Vhen he tired of chattering, he stood and 1 rowled. ' 1 "Catching sight of the bridle, he walked < o it, smelled it, patted it, and then came ! tack and glared at me. < "My carbine, confound it! was slung at j ny saddle. My only weapon, besides my tanger, was a pocket-pistol, double-bar- 1 elled, and what in those days we called a 1 reech-loader?that is, the barrels unscrewd to load, and then screwed on again. ' "It would have been a handy weapon ^ gainst a man at close quarters, for it threw , good ball; but for a lion! Ilesides, the ] least was too far off. 1 "Then the thought flashed into my mind, 1 rhere was Cognac ? 1 "I supposed he had run away and hidien somewhere. If the lion got sight of ] tim, it would, I knew, soon be over with he poor little fellow. ' "All at once there arose, close at hand, ! ,n awful and familiar yell. It had a 1 trange, muffled tone, but there was no nistaking Cognac's voice. "Again it came, resonant, long-drawn and ( epulchral. It seemed to come from inidethe tree. Where the deuce was he ? "The lion appeared uiteny asromsneu, . nd turned liis ears so far back to listen ; hat they were almost inside out, when from ome hole among the roots of the tree there , topped a small yellow head with long ears. j "'Down, down, Cognac!' I cried, in my ; gony; 'goback, sir!' "A cry of delight, cut short by a piteous rtiine, was his reply, as he spied me, and I hen dashing fully a yard toward the lion, ie barked defiantly. "With a low growl and ruffling mane, . he beast charged at the little dog. "Back went Cognac into his cave, as quick . s a rabbit, and stormed on him from inside. "Thrusting his great paw right down the 1 tole, the lion tried to claw him out. Oh! low I trembled for Cognac. "But he kept up such a ceaseless fire of ' napping and snarling that it was plain he 1 ras either well around a corner, or that the ( - ' 3 u Uic I ' lOie was ueep VJlUUgn ivi ma . "All the same, to see that great cowardly 1 >east digging away at my poor little dog 1 ike that, was more than 1 could stand. , "ocking my pistol, I shouted, and as he ooked up I fired at his blood-shot eye. He . hook his head, and 1 gave him the other larrel. "With a scream of rage, he bounded back. ' "Cognac immediately shot forth his head, nd insulted him with jeering barks. "But he was not to be drawn again, and * fter a bit, he lay down further off, and preended to go to sleep. Cognac barked at iim till he was tired, and then retired to *' lis castle. "Reloading, I found I had only three bul?ts left, and concluded to reserve them for crisis. 5 "It was now past noon. To beguile the ime. I smoked a nine or two, sang a song, | \ nd cut my name,* Cognac's and Marengo's ' n the tree, leaving a space for the lion's, , rtiich I determined should be Wellington, j wished he would go away. Having some uilk in my bottle, I took a drink, and should 1 iave liked to give some to Cognac. The \ ion began to pant, with his red, thorny ongue hanging a foot out of his mouth. J Ie was as mangy and disreputable-looking brute as ever 1 saw. By-and-by he got up nd sniffed the air all around him, and then, * without as much as looking at me, walked ' ff, and went deliberately down the road. "Slipping to the ground, I caught up Cog- \ lae, who had crept out directly, and after joking carefully around for the lion, was mothering' me wiin caresses, nit' nun was uming toward a bushy clump in a hollow j bout two hundred yards off. That light reen foliage?willows, water! Had the , unning brute snuffed it out ? "Anyhow, it was a relief to stretch one's ( egs after sitting six mortal hours on a ' > ranch. The lion disappeared around the ! tushes. I strained my eyes over the plain, ?ut could see nothing moving. Then I gave , 'ognac a drink of milk and a few bits of : tread-cake, for which he was very grateful. , )f course, it was no use beginning a race .gainst a lion with only 2(10 yards start in ny number of miles. The tree was better ; ban that. "All the same, he was gone a long time; terhaps he was really gone for good. Bah! here came his ugly head around the corner igain, making straight for us. "When he was pretty near, I kissed Coglac, and threw a bit of cake into the hole. ( Then 1 climbed again to my perch, Cognac etired, growling, into his fortress, and the least of a lion mounted guard over us as lefore. "He looked quite cool and comfortable, ind had evidently had a good drink. "Another hour and he was still there. "While I was wondering how long he eally meant to stay, and if I was destined o spend all night on a bough likeamonkey, md on very short commons, lie got up, anil valking quietly to the foot of the tree, witli>ut uttering a sound, sprang up at me with ill his might. "He was quite a yard short, but I was so ' 1 - ll iL -i T 1.. K.-.1 iTUTCieu, lIIllL J. Ilfiui.y iusl in v uuiuukc. "His coup having failed, he- lay down ight under the branch I was on, couching lis head on his paws as if to hide his mortification. "Suddenly the thought came into my nind : why not make a devil and drop it >n iiis back ? I dismissed the subject as ri- , liculous, but it came again. As we have ill, including our English friend here, been joys, you know what I mean?not a fallen mgel, but the gunpowder devil. "Good! Well, it seenled feasible?1 would try it. "I had plenty of powder in my little flask; ?o pouring some into my hand, I moistened it with spittle and kneaded away until it janie out a tiny Vesuvius of black paste, riien 1 formed the little crater, which I filled with a few grains of dry powder, and set it carefully on the branch. "My hands shook so with excitement, that 1 could hardly hold the flint and steel; but I struck and struck?the tinder ignited? now Vesuvius! .ni-KIM" ii-liiv 1 Tlw> li/?n liwiU'cil tin rli_ reetly, but I (Irojjpt'cl it plump on the back of his neck. For an instant, he dill not seem to know what had happened; then with an Hilary growl, up he jumped, and tore savagely at the big tiery flea on his back, which sent a shower of sparks into his mouth and nose. "Again and again he tried, and then raved wildly about, using the most horrible leonine language, and no wonder, for the devil had worked well down among his greasy hair, and must have stung him like a hundred hornets. His back hair and mane burst into a flame, and he shrieked with rage and terror. "Then he went stark, staring mad, clapped his tail between his legs, laid back his ears, and rushed out of the grove at twenty miles an hour, and disappeared up the ravine. Almost as mad as the lion with joy, and feeling sure he was gone for good, I tumbled down the tree, and ran off along the road as hard as I could, with Cognac Marking at my heels. By-and-by I had to pul up, for the sun was very hot; hut I walked as fast as I could, looking out all the time for Marengo, who would not, I knew, gf very far from his master. Presently I spied him in a hollow. A whistle, a whinnying with delight, he trotted up and laid his heat on my shoulder. "In my hurry, I had forgotten the bridle but with my belt and handkerchief I extemporized a halter, tied one end around his nose, and catching up Cognac, mounted and galloped off, defying all the lions ii Africa to catch me. "There were still two hours before sunsel to reach the next village, and by hard riding I did it. That we all three of us enjoyed our suppers, goes without saying; and that, gentlemen, is my story." We agreed it was wonderful. SFEAKIflti IUU SUUJ*. It was a sunshiny May day, with an immense bee booming among the lilacs anc peonies in the school garden, an intense jlow of golden light on the grass, and s Ireamy languor in the air that made Alice Hopkins sleepy in spite of herself, as she sat with the little clildren's copy-books ir i pile before her, inscribing the month's marks upon their covers, according to theii respective merits. Alice was scarcely more than a child herself. Barely nineteen, with a slight, young figure, a color that came and went at the slightest variation of her pulse, and pleading hazel eyes, it was the hardest work it the world to assume the dignity that wa necessary for her position as assistant teacher. "I never saw such babyishness in inj life!" said Miss Negley, the principal; "and I shall not put up with it, Miss Hopkins? lon't you think it! Dignity, in the educahinnnl lino. ?s evervthinir. And I do not call it fitting to the position of assistant principal to the racing around with the children ir their noonday games, and dressing a corncob-doll on the sly for little Priscilla Jones, to say nothing about bursting out crying like a great baby, when Billy Smith killetl the robin-redbreast with a stone. Dignity Miss Hopkins?dignity should ever be tlu watchword of our profession." Miss Negley was tall and grim, with heavy black hair, a sallow complexion several missing front teeth, and something very like a moustache. Alice Hopkins cowered before her severe glance. "I'm very sorry!" faltered she. "J'l try to be good!" "More like a child than ever!" said Mis; Negley, despairingly. "I?I mean," Alice hastened to correci herself?"I will endeavor to set a guarc upon my rash impulses." "That sounds more like it!" said Mis* Negley. "And now, Alice, see here! 1 sxpect some of the school trustees here tomorrow." "Oh, dear!" said Alice, remembering the signal failure of her class upon a similai occasion, not so very long ago, "It isn' another examination, I hope ?" "Worse than that," said Miss Negley? "far worse!" Alice lifted her hazel eyes in amazement What could possibly be worse than Fannj Dow spelling cat with ak, and Lucy Mallej isserting that Baltimore was situated or the left bank of the river Nile. "There is a proposition on foot to reduce )ur salaries," said Miss Negley. "Actually :o reduce our saianes:" "Oh," said Alice. "But mine is ver> small already. Only one hundred dollars u >-ear. I dont't think they can reduce il uuch." "They can reduce it to fifty, can't they?' said Miss Negley, shortly. "In that case," ventured Alice, "I could *o and be a shop girl in my uncle's store ir :he city. One must live !" "You've no proper pride," said Miss Negey. "A shop girl, indeed ! But I don't in :end they shall carry out their nefuriow plans. If? My good gracious me! then iomes Mr. Barthorne now, jogging along or lis old gray horse just as if he wasn't on ai: jrrand of evil. They do say that old Bar :horne is the head and front of the whole business. I'll show him! A reduction o salaries, indeed! I dare say he means t( wheedle a consent out of us beforehand, s< that everything shall seem smooth to-mor row when the committee meets. But lie will find that he has mistaken his customei this time. Little Alice began to tremble all over ind to grow pink and white by turns, aftei her usual fashion when she was disturbed. "I?I am so frightened!" hesitated she 'Please may I go home?" "Yes, you little coward," impatiently re sponded Miss Xegley; "that is, if you nav2n't the courage to stand up for yourself am your rights." "But Mr. Barthorne lias always b(;en s< kind to nie," faltered Alice Hopkins, "ant if he should tell me that it was best. I al most know that I should consent to havin? my salary reduced. You know, dear Mis: Xegley, that if it hadn't been for him, J never should have received the appointmen Lit all." "I don't wonder," said Miss Xegley apos trophizing the ceiling, that they aren't will ing to allow women the privilege of suf frage in this benighted country. And you Alice Hopkins, you may go home! Vol certainly will be of 110 use at all to me ii lighting this battle. And Alice, heartily thankful for thi? grudgingly accorded reprieve, put the copy books into the desk-drawer, piled up tin dictionary and definer, caught her little pinl lawn sun-bonnet from its nail, and vanisnec like a flying shadow into the nearest patcl of cedar woods. Miss Negley sat very upright, with fold ed arms and prominent elbows, her nos< slightly tinctured with the rosy hue of tin coming battle, her lips slightly compressed while Mr. Barthorne, a pleasant-faced gen tleinan of five-and-fortv or thereabouts, trot ted up to the school house door, leisurely dismounted, tied his horse to the hitching post, and, totally unconscious that he wai observed, alike by Miss Negley from he post of authority on the school room dais and little Alice Hopkins by the spring ii the woods, paused to dust his boots with hi yellow silk pocket handerchief, and to ad just his thick, dark locks before he rappe( on the door. "I'm glad I'm not there," said Alici Hopkins, with a long sigh of relief. And, then, having cooled her face ant hands in the transparent spring, she sa down to think. To her, a reduction of her scanty salary meant nothing less than starvation. A things were she could scarcely pay he board and other expenses. And sitting there in the shifting shadow of the wind-blown branches, she cried ; little, to think how solitary and friendles she was in the world. Miss Negley, however, was in a very dif ferent mood. "Come in!" she had answered, brusquely to the knock at the door, without takim the trouble to move from her seat. Ami when Mr. Barthorne entered, In espied her sitting stiff, silent, straight. "(food afternoon, Miss Negley!" said tin trustee, depositing his hat on the neares desk and venturing on an apologetic how "Good afternoon, Mr. Barthorne!" Mis Negley answered, with just about as mud warmth as an icicle in her address. "I hoj)C I do not intrude," said the trus tee, civilly. "Oh, not at all!" said Miss Negley. "A?hem!" said the trustee, evidently il at ease. "It ain't easy to broach tlu? busi ness I've come on, Miss Negley." "I should think not," said the lady. "But I called just at this hour, when expected to find you alone?" "Oh, yes, I haven't any doubt that yoi did!" Miss Negley interrupted him, ii accents of fine sarcasm. "Kveii you, 'St|uir j Barthorne, would be ashamed to hint at such ' i j a thing before the poor dear children." "Eh?" said Mr. Barthorne, instinctively 1 retreating a pace or two, for there was some- : 1 thing pythoness-like in Miss Negley's atti; tude, as she rose and darted her head for) ward at him to emphasize her words. . I "I know what you're going to say," said ] f Miss Negley; "and I won't listen to a word j i; of it?not one word! Xo one but a set of f narrow-minded misers could have thought \ , of it. I'll leave Wyndale school first!" I "Well, well, no harm done," said Mr. , I Barthorne, clutching at his hat. "If I'd , , have known that you'd taken things as j i j hard ; as this?" \ "How did you suppose I was going to ^ t take 'em ?" said MissXegley, with a scorn- s ful laugh. Did you mistake me for the j dust under your feet ?" j I "I assure" you, ma'am, that nothing of j the sort was in my mind, humblv uttered a "T * ? 1 ' .Mr. Barthorne. "i wisn you goou uiu-i- ( noon!" . He hurried out, remounted his gray \ . steed, which, poor beast, was just compos- . , ing itself for a comfortable doze in tiie sun- j shine, and rode off, making, to Alice Hop- ( kins' intense dismay} ^traignt for the shady f l cedar-woods, where she still sat arranging \ ; ferns around the ribbon of her hat. ( ? "There's is no use trying to run away," { thought she. "I may as well stay where I . am. And after all, why should I be afraid . 5 of Mr. Barthorne?" , Mr. Barthrone checked his rein as he saw } the pretty young school teacher there under , the cedar. He nodded pleasantly. < ; "Fine day, Miss Alice!" said he, wiping j J his brow with the identical yellow silk f pocket handkerchief which had but now i i served as a duster for his boots. < > "Yes,'* said Alice, standing like some i t fair wood nymph beside the spring. . "Please, what did she say?" , "What did who say?" said the middle- j I aged gentleman, turning scarlet. } "Miss Negley. Don't think me intru- , sive," she added; "tut I know all about it." j I "The deuce you do!" said Mr. Barthorne. , 1 "Why. she wouldn't let me get in a word ( i edgewise?that's what she said. Perhaps, j however, I had a lucky escape!" ln'"* /Mm that it i?j htirrl" saiifl I DUl UU Iiuioif una uuvt iv r Alice, earnestly. i "Hard?" echoed Mr. Barthorne. "I ' , should have supposed it would have suited j - her exactly! But," a new idea bursting { athwart his brain, "there's as good fish in j i the sea as ever were caught out of it! Miss ] , Alice, what would you say if J were to ask j r, you to be my wife?" , Alice Hopkins looked at him in amazei ment. j "I, Mr. Barthorne !" she exclaimed. < I "You are young enough to be my daugh- j ter sure enough," said tlie worthy man, not , 5 without some bitterness. "But I'm not so very old, either, and I've a good home to t offer any woman who will take pity on my I loneliness." "Loneliness?" i > Alice looked at Mr. Barthorne in surprise. i It had never occurred to her little innocent 1 heart, that Mr. Barthorne, in the big white 1 house, with the pair of horses and the close 1 ' carriage, could ever be lonely. And per- 1 * haps there was something in the dewy < brightness of her eyes, as she raised them j to Mr. Barthorne's face, that emboldened 1 - him to plead his cause with more energy. ; "I should love you very dearly, Alice," he ( - said, with a tremble in his voice. "I would 1 r be very good to you. Won't you answer ; ' me, Alice r" t Her head drooped; there was an instant i of silence, and then she said in a low tone: 1 ^ "Yes, Mr. Barthorne, I'll marry you." 1 , He bent and kissed her forehead. "You'll not regret it, my lass," said he. ; ' "And you're the very girl I would have 1 i picked out of a thousand. I'm glad, now, t that Miss Negley wouldn't listen to me." < Alice started. i ' "Oh, Mr. Barthorne," said she, "was that your errand ?" ! "Of course it was," said Barthorne. "Dr. j Smiley said she was the very woman I need- i ed to regulate my household. But the mo- < ment I hinted at the subject, she as good as ' ordered me off the premises. Not that I'm sorry for it. She has a face like a man, and a figure like a Prussian grenadier !" ! Alice broke out laughing. She could fan- < cy exactly how Miss Xegley had looked. ( There was comfort in the reflection that < Miss Negley would never lecture her more. Miss Negley battled with the committee i next day, but in vain. The ruthless trustees reduced her salary one-half, and when it transpired, in some unaccountable way, that she had actually refused Mr. Barthorne ' (without being asked) she felt that life was i indeed a failure. And the arrival of Alice ? Hopkins' wedding-cards did not better mat- i * ters. "Oh, dear, oh, dear !" she said, "I spoke i too soon. Why didn't I wait to hear what 31 r. Barthorne had to say before I answered < in such a hurry? My tongue always was my besetting fault." ' I I Mil I , THE NEED OF SLEEP. 1 "To tell you the truth," remarked a ven erable Atlanta physician, "1 do not think ! ' that a person should ever be waked, except, ' j* of course, in special cases, and where there t is a necessity for it. Nature knows her own business, and that man who follows nature's , - rules the closest will receive most of her - blessings. A man in his natural state is , - healthy and sound, lie contracts disease , or else some one else contracts it for him. t The ailments of the father and mother are , i visited upon the children, not because it is a source of pleasure to the Almighty, but < 5 because it is nature's law. One of nature's - rules is that a man shall have sleep. If it i had been intended that a man should work , ; twenty-four hours out of twenty-four, nal ture would have made the sun shine withi out interruption all the time. Lights are an innovation. Wild beasts don't have lights. - They are reserved for man, with his supe3 rior intelligence and multiplicity of bodily 3 ailments. Night was made for sleep and the ; day for work. The man who disregards the - demands of his mind and body for the - amount of rest which nature claims suffers, r sooner or later, and pays dearly for having C abused this prime rule of health. Nature is s the best book keeper the world ever saw. r You may overdraw your account, but you J , always pay back the last farthing and often j 1 give up the pound of llesh ; yes, often more s than the pound. A man may think he can J - steal from nature, but he cannot. As I said j 1 1 do not think a person should be waked in the morning, and for this reason ; when a 3 man falls asleep he is in the shop for repairs as the railroad men say. His frame and all ; I its intricate machinery is being overhauled j t and made ready for the next day's work. | The wear of the previous day is being rer unirrwi v-i+uiv' i? doine* that herself. She ! s knows what the tired frame needs just as r she knows how to make the heart throb and send the blood coursing through the veins, s Then she takes that tired frame, lays it i down on a bed, surrounds it with the res freshing air of night, covers it with the soft darkness and lets the man rest. "Tired na ture's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," visits | him, and as the hours wear by his energies , i are renewed, his strength comes back, and jj finally, when morning breaks and the sun I light "steals through the lattice, he opens his I ;> i eyes and is himself again. ()r, if he is ear- j i ly to bed, he wakes with the cock's crowing. | ej Now, who shall go to that man's side an t j hour before he opens his eyes and say to na. j ture, stand aside and let him get up? lie s i has had enough of rest. Well, nature will i : say, "you can take him if you will, but I ! j will charge him with an hour's loss of sleep i- i and I'll collect it out of his bones and nerves l and his hairs and eyesight. You can't cheat me; I'll find property to levy on." 1 The old masonic law used to be eight hours - for sleep, eight hours for the usual vocation, and eight hours for the service of God. Masonry was operative then and the law I was carried out. The day was divided into three equal parts, and each part was devoted li to a specific purpose, aud one was sleep, and II it was not one bit too much."?^Huntu Conr si Hut inn. I ^Hiscclliiucous flcaiiui). THE FRIEND. Tliere are few things so essential to happiness, so convenient ancl desirable, as a riend, to whom we may eonlide our aspira:ions, with whom we may take sweet coun- j sel, wlio will not ridicule our little vanities j pel)ind our hack, who will flatter us enough I or encouragement, but not enough for inju-1 y?a friend who believes in us and under- J stands us. Perhaps this species is rare, j somebody has finely remarked, "All that ran be said of friendship is like botany to lowers." We may point out the calyx, describe the corollif,* count the stamens and pistils ; but as all this is but the skeleton of :he blossom, will give no idea of its exquisite shape and effect, its grace, the wondrous :ints and texture of a single petal, tliT> rich iharm of its perfume, so no words are comprehensive enough to portray the friend, ivho is a kind of second self, whose interests ind happiness are one with ours, who nevpr rubs us the wrong way, who, even if pbliged to find fault with us, does it with *uch graciousness that it is sweeter than anpther's praise ; who softens the harshness of pthers by the warmth of his admiration. n.?h.x.-. AttAn/L. f/v Ka cini*a /ir nfinnlf) ) r.Mlt'11 Ul IIS IlilSlllVmiS, IV/ UVi Ul (,W,y.v | whom we dignify by that name, who exchange visits, gifts, letters, and compliments ivith us ; who talk gossip with us, consult us jpon their spring clothes, confide to us, with more or less truth, the amount of their 'allowance," the cost of their "things"; who iiave the same acquaintances, meet us at the same houses, and read the same books that we do; whose affection, however, is only >kin deep, and not in any degree stronger or better than that which they entertain for bthers whom they criticise and hiugh at with us; friends who are not altogether gratified by our successes nor sorry at our failures, who through familiarity know the weak point in our armor, and take advantage of their knowledge at times; friends who do not scruple to assure us, in the cause )f truth, that our Carlo Dolce is not an original, that our Persian rug was woven in tVmerican looms, that our Satsuma ware is m imitation, and never saw a province of Japan ; friends who take it for granted that J we yearn to know our valued Kioto tea-pot is only a Yankee reproduction. "Friends," says some one, "are like melons; you must try a hundred before finding a good one," But who is not willing to try ten hundred if be may only find one eventually, and not ilways be put off by a counterfeit ? And perhaps the difficulty in finding one is due nore than we suspect to the fact, as Alphonio Karr says, "that every one is anxious to lave a friend, witnour taxing any parucumr pains to be one yourself.'"?Harper's Bazar. THE SURRENDER OF LEE. In the meantime General Lee came over l.o McLean's house in the village of Appomattox Court House. I am not certain whether Gen. Babeock, of Gen. Grant's staff, who had arrived in advance of the General, liad gone over to see him or not. We had waited some hours, and, I think, about 12 ir 1 o'clock General Grant arrived. Generil Ord, myself and many officers were in the main road leading through the town it a point where Lee's army was visible. General Grant rode up and greeted me with, "Sheridan, how are you?" I replied, "I im very well, thank you." Ife then said, "Where is Lee ?" I replied, "There is his irmy down in that valley; he is over in that house (pointing out McLean's) waiting to surrender to you." General Grant, still without dismounting, said, "Come, let us ?0 over." He then made the same request to General Ord, and we all went to McLean's house. Those who entered with General Grant were, as nearly as I can recollect, Ord, Rawlins, ?Seth Williams, n ^ 1 i- 1 r. 4-tw? IllgailS, HUUCOCK, 1'iii'Ki'i uiiu Jii.yocn^ nn.staff officers, or those who accompanied, remaining outside on the porch steps and in the yard. On entering the parlor we found General Lee standing in company with Colonel Marshall, his aide-de-camp. The lirst greeting was to General Seth Williams, who had been Lee's Adjutant when he was Superintendent of the Military Academy. General Lee was then presented to General Grant, and all present were introduced. General Lee was dressed in a new gray uniform, evidently put on for the occasion, and wore a handsome sword. He had on his face the expression of relief from a heavy burden. General Grant's uniform was soiled with mud and service, and he wore no sword. After a few words had been spoken by those who knew General Lee, all the officers retired except, perhaps, one staff officer of General Grunt's and tne one who was with General Lee. We had not been absent from tbe room longer than five minutes when General Habcoek came to the door and said, "The surrender has taken place?you can come in again." When we re-entered General Grant was writing on a little wooden, elliptical-shaped table (purchased by me from Mr. McLean and presented to Mrs. G. A. Custer) the conditions of the. surrender. General Lee was sitting, his band resting on tbe hilt of his sword, to the left of General Grant, with his back to a small marble-topped table, on which many books were piled. * * About one hour was occupied in drawing up and signing the terms, when General Lee retired from the house with a cordial shake of the hand with.General Grant, mounted his chunky, gray horse, and lifting his hat, passed through the gate, and rode over the crest of the hill to his army. On his arrival there, we heard wild cheering, which seemed to be taken up progressively by his troops, either for him, or because of satis :AI. 1.. J~ 1 .to ' IUCUOH wim inr> iasi uiiiimi nti <10 a .-iiimn. Jitfj/, North American Review. CONQUEST OF MEXICO. From 40,000 to ">0,000 souls dwell in Monterey (says a correspondent of the Philadelphia Press), and they are pleasantly located. The city is built in a basin formed by the great mountains thatsurround it. Splendid springs flow through it in several directions, pouring out streams of pure and healthy water, large enough to run a mill or irrigate all the country around it. The streets are well paved. A glance at almost any section of the city recalls many interesting reminiscences of the Mexican war. Saddle Mountain, that is fashioned exactly like the old-style Mct'lellan saddles, rises more than 5,001) feet above the town. Almost any one you meet will remind you that Gen.'Zach. Taylor planted the American flag between the two peaks during rue war Dciween uus uountr.v ami the United States, it took two weeks to get it up to the giddy height, and the 3Iexieans could never get it down. It stood there fourteen years to recall to them what they had lost in the hazards of war. The elements alone wore it away. The Bishop's palace still stands on the great hill which the American forces assaulted and captured before the town fell. The spiked guns left by the Mexicans are still there as monuments of their defeat. Three miles away to the east are the wonderful hot springs that every twenty-four hours discharge a good sized stream of water 1()(!? Fahrenheit. In extent and in most curative properties the Hot Springs of Arkansas bear no comparison to them. Saltillo is sixty-odd miles nearer the city of 3lexico than 'Monterey, and the railroad will reach it some time iii July. You have to take a clumsy stage coach to get to this place, and you climb the mountains almost all the way. It is situated on the summit of the Sierras, some 8,()IM) feet above the level of the sea. It is destined to be a favorite place for pleasure-seekers, and they have even now named it the Saratoga of Mexico. All Mexican towns look alike except in their location, and, therefore, what I have said of Monterey will very readily apply to this place, except that it is not quite as large. It is the capital of Coahuila, one of the best agricultural and mineral States of the 31 exican Kepublic. The railroad officials look upon it as one of the important places along the line of the Mexi can National, and many speculators have their eye upon it also. The whole State is well watered and very rich. The climate is delightful, and it is the intention to build a large hotel here for the accommodation of American winter travel. The railroad from Monterey to this point runs through some magnificent scenery, and many people, even now, go by stage to get a view of it. It is a hard jaunt, but soon it will be as easy as going to Niagara Falls. Plain* Talk About Marriage.?As to the age when people should marry, the lady should, in my opinion, be 20 or 22, and the gentleman five years her senior. Poor men cannot marry extravagant girls, who expect as good a home as their parents were only able to acquire after many years' toil. The deceit practiced on both sides is very great. The ugly suitor gets a tailor to hide his deficiencies; the unsightly maiden calls in the aid of her rouge pot and milliner. Until mwit.lv mnrriairo brokcraire was car ried on in France. We Americans are guilty of the same tiling in another way. Mothers sell daughters to the highest bidders, and daughters sell themselves for gold to men old enough to he their grandfathers. Such women would no more choose honest mechanics for husbands than they would convicts from the penitentiary. There is no reason why women should not choose as well as men. At present the men have all the advantage. 2so girl is tit to be a wife till she can, if necessary, cook a meal, make a dress and keep a house in order. Accomplishments are good, but a tired husband would much prefer a good square meal. All matches that are brought about by selfish motives are unholy, and women who marry for position or wealth are just as guilty as those who sell their virtue for a given sum. They are, in fact, living a life of legalized prostitution. Marriages in which there is no adaptation are unlawful. As oil and water will not unite without alkaline, so many a couple are united by means of gold. Such artificially made matches are often broken. You may force alcohol and gum camphor to blend, but at the presence of water the alcohol elopes and leaves the camphor a grass widow. In like manner a third party often steps in between a badly assorted pair, with what result can be easily seen. None but those who have been united through pure motives and deep, abiding love, have fulfilled the conditions under | which a man and a woman may really become husband and wife.?Rev. J)r. McKen\ dree. How Some Towns are Started.?The town of Ontario, Cal., is one of the numerous speculative ventures which have been made on the colony plan, all along the fruit region, extending from Los Angeles Southward toward the desert?dry, treeless, sandy, forbidding land, in many places nearly bare, in others covered with an ugly growth of sage and similar brush, useless without artificial irrigation, but producing when water is applied, the best quality of grapes and oranges, as well as other crops. The found:.w. r>n lanrls SOPnili tn liave 111^ \JA tVlV/IUVO VI* UUVll ? become a recognized branch of the real estate business. A company secure a site, including a sufficient stream of water, lay out the town, open streets, construct irrigating works, and then sell the lots. When Ontario was founded last Winter, on the western edge of San Bernardino county, the first enterprise of the proprietors?before there were any houses?was to start a newspaper. As the town contained nothing except boundary stakes, the Ontario Fruit. Grower took board, so to speak, at Riverside, where it is still printed. The next improvement was the introduction of the telephone ; close upon which followed the cornerstone of the Agricultural College. When I saw Ontario, recently, a broad street, called Euclid avenue, stretched through the brush from the railroad two or three miles back toward Cucamonga Mountain. A hotel and a depot were building. A shanty and two tents, with, I think, a house or so in the far background, held the settlers. Since that time a marriage has been celebrated in the town; and, 1 dare say a Mayor and Common Council will be elected before the end of the season, for a great deal of the land has been sold.?Correspondence of the New York Tribune. Influence of Railroads Upon Agriculture.?So great has been the positive advantages which all departments of agriculture have derived from the construction of railroads, that, if the entire cost of their 1 ' " * - 1 1 * 1 4-Urx UUlIUing IllUl Ueeil It'Vifll upuu uic of the central West, theywould have paid it and been immensely the gainers. The railroads have done what could not have been effected without them; they have secured to the producer very nearly the prices of the Atlantic markets, and very largely in advance of what could have been on his farm; by thus enabling the producer to dispose of his products at good prices at all times, they have helped to increase rapidly both the settlement and the annual production of the interior States. The older a country is the more civic and leas rural it becomes?that is the greater will be the demand for food, and the leas the production. Hence it is that Europe, an old country, filled with cities, makes a continual demand on this country for food. 1 fence it is that New England and New York, continually filling up with manufacturers, artisans and cities, must be suppled with increased quantities of food from the interior West. Hence it is that cheapening of transportation inures to the benefit of I the agricultural producer. By thus giving the farmer the benefit of the best markets, and the highest prices, railroads have increased the agricultural productions of the ! country beyond any tiling neretoiore Known in the world.? Untied States Economist. Rklatiox of Wixds to Health.?The results of careful and protracted meteorological observations by L>r. Prestel, the German physicist, shows that it is possible to discover the original cause of diseases that are de! pendent upon the climate and the weather, ! by a proper study of the winds as observed at that place?in fact, that the climate character of any region is exactly represented by the nature of the winds, and from their nature at different places their salubrity can I be determined with much safety. Again, ; he finds that the winds and the character of tin* weather are identical with each other for any given month, the sickness, however, depending rather upon the climate of the preceding month, evidently because it began the sickness which appears recorded, perhaps in the statistical tables of the succeeding weeks and months. Dr. Prestel remarks that the most unfavorable condition of the atmosphere is a long period of prevailing calm, or very slight breezes ; thus, in many climatic diseases, as malaria, yellow fever, etc., it appears that when they become epidemic there has preceded that time a long period of calm weather, the 1 ????? r.f .1?,. pnc+irxr nilipflv 11 noII juwfnt ^uaiuiu wi <ui iviunij, ?x the earth. Tiik Girls of the Blue Grass Region.?The women here have gorgeous nature to build on and high art to improve it with. When the Bona Rea, out of her bounteousness, makes a blue grass woman she takes care never to spoil the job. A soft, white, warm body, translucent with divine light, and curving to lines of beauty as naturally as the tendrils of the vine, is the groundwork upon which nature limbs the human angel. Eyes softly bright, but luminously intense; cheeks like the damask rose, with buttercups of dimples, in whose honeyed heart sly Puck or Oberon might sleep ; lips like ox-heart cherries at the centre, but flexible as a smoke wreath, and fading away into the soft cheek like the heart's blood of a strawberry into luscious cream ; a chin fairly fashioned as the golden apple that blushing Paris gave to Venus, who trembled with delight at taking it; the brow of Juno and the bust of Hebe; the sea nymph's pearly ear, the wood nymph's springy steps?these are a few of the charms that'nature gives the maiden of the blue grass.?f^exim/ton (A"}/.) Letter. ANECDOTES OF TWINS. Two twins were fond of playing tricks, and complaints were frequently made; but the boys would never own which was the guilty one, and the complainants were never certain which of the two he was. One head master used to say that he would never flog the innocent for the guilty, and another used to flog both. No less than nine anecdotes have reached me of a twin seeing his or her reflection in a looking glass and addressing it in the belief it was the other twin in person. I have many anecdotes of mistakes when the twins were grown up. Thus: An amusing scene occurred at college when one twin came to visit the other, the porter on one occasion refusing to let the visitor out of the college gates, for though they stood side by side he professed ignorance as to which he ought to allow to depart. Children are usually quick in distinguishing between their parents and his or her twin; but I have two cases to the contrary. Thus the daughter of a twin says: "Such was the marvelous similarity of their voice, features and manner, etc., that I remember as a child being very much puzzled, and, I think, had my aunt lived much with us, 1 , should have ended by thinking that I had two mothers." In the other case, a father who was a twin, remarks of himself and his brother: "We were extremely alike, and are so at this moment, so much so that our children up to five or six years old did not know us apart." I have four or five instances/if doubt during an engagement of marriage. Thus: A. married first, but both twins met the lady together for the first time, and fell in love with her then and there. A. managed to see her home and gain her affections, . though B. wejit sometimes cuuruug m m> place, and neither the young lady nor her parents could tell which was which. I have also a German letter, written in quaint terms, about twin brothers who married sisters, but could not easily be distinguished by them. In the well known novel of NVilkie Collins of "Poor Miss Finch," the blind girl distinguishes the twin she loves by the touch of his hand, which gives her a thrill that the touch of the other brother does not. Philosophers have not, I believe, as yet investigated the conditions of such thrills; but I have a case in which Miss Finch's test would have failed. Two persons, both friends of a certain twin lady, told me that she had frequently remarked to them that kissing her twin sister was not like kissing her other sisters, but like kissing herself? her own hand for example. It would be an interesting experiment for twins who were closely alike to try how far dogs could distinguish between them by scent. I have a few anecdotes of strange mistakes between infants in adult life. Thus an officer writes: "On one oecassion when I returned from foreign service, my father turned to me and said: '1 thought you were in London,' thinking I was my brother?yet he had not seen me for nearly four years?our resemblance was so great."?From Profemrr Gallon"1x Book on Human Faculty. - ? ? ? The Si x and Its Heat.?Prof. C. A. Young, of Princeton College, recently delivered a lecture before the American Astronomical Association, at Parker Institute, Brooklyn, on "The Fuel of the Sun," in the course of which he said that to account for the heat of the sun, there might be some truth in Ilelmbolt's notion that the sun is fed, on its way through space, with meteors attracted to it by its immense mass. If this theory were true, then the earth ought to getas'much heat from shooting stars its from the sun, and the surface of this globe would have three tons of meteoric matter to the square mile. Yet in some way this objection could be explained away. If we are to suppose that heat is derived from matter distributed through space, we should first remember that the matter would make itself felt on the planets of the solar system. Prof. Proctor must be wrong in saying this does not necessarily follow. Another thing, if, as some suppose, a current of meteors toward the sun existed, then mischief would be played with comets. MIL They would encounter resistance, .men, wu, the temperature of the sun would not be hotter from such meteoric combustion than ' the carbon points in the electric light. Prof, i Young had always supposed that the heat in the sun was not less than 10,000? centigrade. Yet as a very slight increase of heat : produces an immense amount of radiation, the heat of the sun might be lower than he i supposed ; yet he could not believe it as low as that of an electric light. Another puzi zling theory had been proposed, viz., that i the sun sent its heat only to that which receives it, only to each of the planets, while space outside of a direct line*from the sun to the planet remains cold. The trouble with that theory was that heat radiated on all sides, and in waves, not in one direction only. The advocates of the theory said that solar heat acted like the law of gravitation. Finally, there was a theory that solar heat came from the contraction of the sun's body, but the objection to the theory was that it put a limit to the universe. If it is a true lypothesis, then the sun could not be more than lf>,000,(KM) years old, and it could not continue to give heat more than 1"),000,000 ye irs. Such a limitation is not to be thought of. A French Farmer.?The lot of a French farmer is neither happy nor jolly, fie fares frugally on soup and the thinnest of ordinary wine or cider. The stock of his soup is 1 bacon and lie eats uuichcj ? I11CAV Ulllj w ?? a week?that is on Sunday and market-day. When he attends market he makes a succulent dejeuner and drinks a good deal of beer at the cafe. This is his only cheerful time: at ordinary seasons he is morose, troubled about the weather, the conscription which is going to take his son in the army, ami about politics, of which he understands just enough to be in constant dread of revolutions. He is conservative ; that is to say he upholds the government of the day, whatever it is, for fear of anarchy; but no government is popular with him, for every administration finds it necessary to lay on new taxes. The climate, however, is in his favor. A bad harvest is not a common thing in France, and a succession of bad harvests never occur. It is lucky for the French farmer that this is so, for there are few French landlords who would be in a position to remit any part of a year's rent after a bad harvest. * The rule in France is that farmers' rent must he paid as punctually as a lodger's rent. If it be not paid, ejection is resorted to at once, and nobody thinks of looking upon the tenant as an illused man. Kelics of tiie Stone Age.?The sandstone quarry at Carson, Nevada, is proving a rich field* for archieologists. In addition to the giant human footprints 181 inches in length and of corresponding width, there have been found the teeth of the saber toothed tiger, the horse, the tusk and jaw of the mastodon and a horse's jaw. But the most interesting find lately made was a tomb near the Needles, on the line of the Atlantic I and Pacific road, at the depth of 173 feet from the surface. In it were found a nuge skeleton in sitting position, with its knees drawn up to its head and clasped in a bony embrace with its fleshless arms. At its feet were several large bowls, originally made of reddish clay, but hardened bv the lapse of ages into a* substance, resembling flint. A tablet was inserted in the wall at its head, bearing a long inscription in hieroglyphics and covered with rude imitations of some extinct species of creatures, half animal, half reptile. A number of implements of warfare were also found. Among them a stone axe, the handle and head being of stone, while the edge was formed of iron of great hardness, mortised into flint. The remainsof a petrified forest was passed through before the tomb was reached.