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1 lewis m. grist, proprietor, j % $"itbepenbtnt Jfcmilj ftetospaprr: Jfor % promotion of % |)oIitical, Social, ^grimltarai anb Commercial Interests of the Soutb. j terms?$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 29. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 1883. NO. 32. ?-?? ? ?he ftoru Mer. | A SIGNAL TRIUMPH, j Colonel John Marston's house was the : largest and finest in town ; his wife, a very intelligent and ardent abolitionist, and the i residence the rendezvous of active abolition-! ists of both sexes. Among these, resident!, in the neighborhood, were a number of well-' bred young gentlemen. Mrs. Marston's i, beautiful parlors, with her wonderful read- j ing and conversation, were so attractive to these young gentlemen, that they not only attended her reading club, but dropped in often to sympathize with her in her sympathy for the slave. It was very delightful to I, help her sympathize with the poor negro. All this time there was trouble brewing. The colonel, nearly thirty years his wife's j senior, a strong man and a successful manu- , facturer, was not an abolitionist, and saw no urgent occasion for the frequent coming of , all the handsome young gentlemen of the ' neighborhood to help his wife sympathize simra TTn uro-npfl if thpsp venule1 J Willi uig oicv> v. axv ^ p % men felt such a longing for the negro's liber- ; ty, the best place for them to operate was ; down south, and not in his parlors. I knew nothing of this, until one night during the . baby's croup experiences, Mrs. Marston urged me stay an hour or two to watch the little one, and in one of those gushes of con- : fidence, born of sick-room sympathies, she told me of the trouble. Colonel M. threatened to write the young men forbidding , them the house. She was greatly distressed , at the thought of a scandal. She particular- j ly feared her father's indignation. He was , fond of her, but she knew that he entertain- , ed very strict notions about the duties of a wife. If her husband should complain to . him there would be trouble. If he should write to the young gentlemen there would be not only trouble, but no end of scandal. : But she closed our conversation by saying: "My husband is a proud, honorable man, and I trust will not take such a perilous step. If I had agreed to be kept under lock and key, I will pay the bond, but when Colonel j M. urged me to marry him, I spoke earnest- . ly of my deep interest in certain ideas, and i of the social life which this interest was sure to involve. He only laughed and said he j foresaw all the possibilities, and that so far , as the young gentlemen were concerned, he should be delighted to see them as often as they chose to come. j "When I urged that lie was a man of business, and without interest in the reforms , which absorbed my very being, he said : he had no doubt he should be converted to my ideas. In any event he should never j be so tyranical and foolish as to interfere with me. After giving up my church, the , church of my sainted mother, after giving up old Hannah, so dear, so dear to me since my mother's death, after giving up these ] and more in deference to my husband's j wishes, he now demands that four young 1 men, two of whom are my cousins, and ail * of whom have been my companions from early childhood, shall be forbidden our home. Their society has always been dear to me, and still more dear since my mother's death. They are all tlrat is left to me of the happy circle of dear mother's library. I have sacrificed pretty much everything to please my husband, and now after pleading with him not to interfere with my social liberty, I have warned him that if he does I shall go out of his house never to return." All this and much more this young wife said, with compressed lips and pale face. ' I proposed to go to her husband and plead for her, as I would plead for my life. She neither consented nor objected. * Appalled, 1 left her in silence, and going to Colonel M.'s counting room found him in a baa mood. "Colonel, 1 wish to speak with you about ) a matter which deeply concerns your future happiness." "If, as I suspect, you come from my wife, 1 shall decline any discussion of my domestic affairs. I am able, I think, to conduct J my home without assistance." "Colonel, 1 shall not urge myself upon your attention, but knowing what 1 do, I cannot refrain from saying that you are making a fatal mistake." "My wife has sentyou, I presume?" "1 shall take no offence at anytningyou may say to me, because I am tlying to do ! what I may to save dear friends from a ca- : lamity. Mrs. Marston did not send me. j She has not expressed the slightest wish ' that I should come to you. I proposed it, s but she would not by word, nod or look, 1 give her consent. I have never met a J human being so dominated by any one purpose. It frightens me." : "And pray what is this awful purpose?" * "To abandon you forever if you interfere j * with her social liberty." ! "And I suppose you approve of this; that 1 you have counselled and advised this in- ( surrection ?" 1 "Colonel Marston, this is hard to bear, ] but I will say that I have not advised her ' to take the step she threatens. I have had no occasion to give such advice. She mere- . ly announced it as her irrevocable purpose; 1 she has not troubled herself to ask my > opinion." 1 "If she had, no doubt you would have ] cheered her on." j1 "No; you mistake me. If she had asked ; * my opinion I should have begged her to j j consider long and well a step which might wreck her whole life. This much I should I * have felt to be my sacred duty, and in part ' because I was in your house lis your family ( physician. If I had approved of her reso- ? lution, I should have come directly to you." . "Well, now you are here, what do you think of her conduct ? I can't get into my ! house before midnight for the crowd of 1 young men. The whole town is laughing at me. I have borne it as long as I will. My wife must soon see it as I do, and tell ] them to quit, and save me the scandal of 1 ordering them off." "I have no intention to argue this ques- M tion, Colonel, though I must think you ( will be glad to learn that no scandal is aiioat j in regard to Mrs. M.'s relations with the young gentlemen. As a physician, visiting ! i more or less two hpndred families, I am | sure to hear all such gossip, and I have not j heard a breath of it. You are mistaken in j: regard to the scandal." 1 "I can only say if people don't talk about it, they ought to." The Colonel said nothing to the young | men, but at length appealed to his wife's j ' father. After a long interview in which the father not only did not defend his , daughter, but fairly stormed at his son-in-; law for not using his authority more effect- j ively, the father went staight at his daughter and opened the paternal batteries. I learned about this when I called to j A f-_.. AC 11.. T lw??. SCO ->11S, Jl. piUlC.'VMUIIilll(>. 1 1UUIIU IIV1 | alone, weeping, very nervous and pale. In a low, moaning voice she described the scene j with her father. I waited for her to ask my j opinion and advice. At length it became; evident that she intended to struggle alone.' The next morning Mrs. M. told me that she had arranged a meeting with her father for the evening of that day. iler husband would be present, and she desired mo to attend, not to defend her, but to hear and remember. I learned some days later, that her husband protested against my presence, but finding his wife inflexible, had yielded. Never shall I forget the meeting. The little wife, pale and very quiet, lay on a sofa gazing at a picture which hung on the wall; it was a portrait of her mother. The husband, large and robust, read the evening paper, and we waited the coming of the fatlier. At length the old gentleman entered, shook his son-in-law's hand, spoke to his daughter with paternal dignity and took a seat somewhat removed from us all, as if lie felt his judicial importance. Colonel M.'s statement, somewhat condensed, with much that was painfully authoritative left out, was essentially the following: "1 do not for a moment admit that any one hasa right to interfere with my domestic affairs, but 1 am willing to show my wife's' father that I exercise a husband's authority j injustice and mercy. I have told my wife , that the' frequent visits of certain young; men at my house had become the subject of a disgraceful scandal and that it must be | stopped. "In our marriage my wife promised most! solemnly to obey. But in this matter so { vital to my happiness she utterly and obsti- i nately refuses to obey, r have'borne it as long as I can, and now I warn them off, and if they come again will employ some : one to horsewhip them. That is all there is of it, and if she thinks I am joking she will find out that I am not to be trifled with." The father turned to his daughter: "Well, Mary, what have you to say?" "Nothing. If John is right I have noth-: ing to say. It is my duty to obey, not to | argue." "But," said the father, "you can say what i you think of the facts. Has he directed j that those young men shall not come here, and have you refused to obey him?" After a long and painful silence she father said, in a tone intended to be kind: "Come my child, don't be foolish. Tell me what you think of it. Beniember your sainted mother and do right. If she sees you now she is grieved at your anger and obstinacy." "Yes, father, I am trying to recall mother to my side. I have been thinking of her [or weeKs, and since jl nave ueeii lying nere I have been looking at her beautiful face in that portrait. I am not angry and am not obstinate. If I knew what she would have inedo in this trying moment of my life, I would do it with all my heart. I remember she used to say that you managed the business of your factory and she never interfered; that your authority at the factory was absolute, but not more so than hers in her house. I remember all this, and I think unless in heaven she has lost her courage, she would say, if standing here: " 'My daughter you must never interfere in your husband's business, and you must not allow him to interfere in yours.' I am lot perfectly sure- about it, father, but I think it is just what she would say. At my rate, dear father, it ?s perfectly clear that before I can say a word about the differences of, my husband and myself, I must enow what my rights are. If I have any ights in the management of home, let them je defined, and then I shall be ready to say what I think of our differences." "My daughter, you can't define a wife's ights. A home is a little kingdom ruled iy love, and you can no more define the ights of the queen who presides there, than rou can define the risrhts of the Sun who jours his rays over all the garden, giving ife and beauty to every plant and flower. It is not a court of law where rights can be lefined in legal phrase, but a sphere in .vhich love conquers and rules." "Yes, father, that is very beautiful, and I vish homes could be managed in that way. But let me tell you how in one home pa;ience and gentleness have failed. .Six rears ago John took me from your arms md brought me to this home. I knew our astes differed as widely as our ages and raining, but I believed that love could coniuer all things. John soon urged me to eave your church?my mother's church? vhich he thought not quite respectable, and oin his church. It cost me a long heartiche, but at length I thought it better than i family quarrel, and so 1 left your seat in hurch, father, where I had sat from early :hildhood, and went with John. 1 was so rue to my husband that I let you think that f went of my own preference. Then my lusband wished to get rid of deaj old Hanlah because she was not a French cook. To >art with her was like parting with mother igain. She seemed to be all the mother I lad left. But after begging and weeping or weeks, I let her go, and have never tolcl ;ven you, dear father, why 1 turned her iway. In many other things, important ind precious to me, I have given way to ny husband's wishes, or I should rather say o his commands, veiled under kindly forms >f request. The last command is the occasion of this conversation. Cousin Tom and rim and Charley Green and Fred. Hart lsed to visit us two or three times a week vhen mother was living. Our Reading 'lub meetings in dear mother's library are he sweetest memories of my life. When liother was dying they continued to come md read in her bed-room. They came very iften then. Since mother's death we have cept up the Reading Club, awl they, when 11 town, have attended it, and havegeneraly been here about once a week. Now John fays people talk about his young wife's comjany. And John won't come home till nidnight any night of the week because he says there is a crowd of young men here, [n the last month they have been here three ;imes, and have always left before ten )'clock. I have been looking over the his :ory of my married life, and although I lave not intended to say anything to-night )f my resolves, at any rate not until you or lohn had defined a wife's rights, I might as ,vell tell you what I have made up my mind :o do." "My daughter don't be rash." "No, father, I have been approaching this 'or two years. John says he will warn these gentlemen off unless I ask them not to come. 1 shall not ask them to discontinue their visits, and if John does 1 shall leave this louse never to enter it again. On next Sunlay I shall go to my dear mother's church, ititl ask them to forgivc^me and take me jack. 1 shall turn awav our French cook uul take back dear old Hannah at once. My brother's portrait and the picture of tear Aunt Mary, which I put away in the garret because they were not fine pictures, i shall bring down and hang in our parlor by the side of mother's portrait. In other words, ifl stav in this home I shall manage it." "Mary," angrily exclaimed her husband, "vou are insane. I shall take measures to put you in an institution. You are down, right erazv." The slight, pale wife lay perfectly still, and when her husband had finished his charge of insanity, she said : "That is precisely what 1 supposed you would say if I should ever defy your authority. Two perfectly sane women have been taken from this town to insane asylums for saying they would not submit to their husband's authority. Nothing can save me unless my father and physician may do it." "1 can only say," exclaimed the husband, "that a woman who has called upon (tod to witness her vow of obedience, and then utterly refuses to obey, is insane, and needs, if any one on earth does, the care of an asylum." "Oh, John," said the father, "of course you don't mean to put her in an asylum. She is no more crazy than 1 am." "You are all crazy if you think her conduct is right." The little wife, though paler than usual, was the quietest of us all. The husband appealed to me for an opin- j ion upon his wife's sanity. 1 said 1 had al- j ways thought her a very sensible woman, j and t\iat she was perfectly sane. I'pon this ! he declared he had long suspected that I fa-! vored his wife's insurrection, and now lie would say that my services would hereafter J be dispensed with. The wife remarked ! very quietly "I have chosen my physician, and he will i remain my physician as long as I prefer i him." The Colonel rose, and ordered me out of i his house. The father exclaimed : "Oh ! John, you are going too far." lie flew at his father-in-law, exclaiming: J "(ieUout of my house the whole of you." j The father and myself began to back to- j ward the hall, when the old gentleman said: i "My daughter, will you go? You shall | have ii home with me." "No," said Mrs. M., with a clear, steady voice, "1 shall stay in my own house, where I belong." Before break fust next morning Colonel M. j came to my office and requested me to visit his wife. I went quickly to her chamber j and found her prostrated and fainting. The next Sunday she rejoined her moth-1 er's church, soon had old Hannah back in j her kitchen, kept up her reading club, and in many other ways recalled the life of her j dead mother to the minds of her neighbors and friends. The Colonel, in the meantime, made no sign, and Mrs. M. said nothing to me of her husband, and 1 began to wonder whether it was not all a dream, when one day Colonel M. asked me to call at his house in the evening. We sat in the same parlor, and after some general cnatmeuoionei sain: "I hope you have not spoken to any one j about that conversation here two months ago. I became satisfied that my position was not sound." "My dear husband, why don't you speak frankly?" "Well," said the man, "the fact is, my no-: tions about a wife's place in a home were, I j am afraid, just a little old fashioned." "John, dear, why don't you tell the doctor just what you have told me?" "Well, well, the fact is my conduct was outrageous, and 1 deserved to be abandoned by the best wife in the world. 1 have asked her forgiveness a hundred times, and now wish to ask yours for that rudeness. Let it be forgotten. I was wrong and my wi fe was all right. There, Mary, will that do ?" "Yes, ray darling, that is very good, though not quite so gracious as you promised ; but then you great awkward men can't do anything very well." The reading club had taken on a fredi life. "Dear John" was always present, and. while very happy in the sunshine of his warm hospitality, the young men had no idea how long they had been walking over a volcano. Y -"Vf" la nnnirnr_ X U il? VCIJ CUUUU9 (lUUUt i'ii> au. o sion. Mrs. M. must have known it, but said nothing, and she was not the sort of person that one felt at liberty to question. A year later Colonel M. and myself became very intimate and spent many hours in confidential chats. In one of these, T begged him to tell me how he was changed from such a terrible lion to such a gentle lamb. "I have often intended to tell you all about that," he said. "That night, after you and father left, my wife said to me : " 'You have wronged me every day since we were married. 1 have done wrong in permitting it. From this hour all must be changed. Everything that concerns our home I shall take into my hands. I shall invite any one I choose to visit here, go back to my own church, have my own cook again, and, in brief, take the entire management of our home. You must choose between this and the disgrace and suffering of a separation.' Then she threw herself on her knees at my very feet, and pleaded ?w 1 Vioi'fi iio\-or li/>orrl nnv nt.hor nnr?<nn plead. I saw, at last, it was not anger or obstinacy, but conviction and purpose. She clung to my legs and would not let me go. Her face, as she looked up, finished me. I took her up and told her that I would never interfere with her again, and I never shall. I manage here, and she manages there. I ask no questions, and my home has become a little heaven. It is the only way. I wonder that 1 did not see it before. I am now satisfied that a husband is happy in his home, just in proportion as his wife reigns. If she takes the entire responsibility, she will do wonders; but if the husband keeps the reins in his own hands, and she feels that the responsibility does not rest upon her, there is a wretched failure. I came very near a fatal blunder, and I ought to thank you for helping me out. I know twenty men in this village who are not happy in their homes, because they try to divide home responsibilities with their wives. Not every wife is wise, I know, but theonly way to secure her best service is to place everything in her hands. It is wonderful how a sense of responsibility sobers, enlightens and dignifies even a common person. I have just begun to learn how to live. As you know, I was married before, and I now believe that my first wife died of a sort of T itlAAiA/1 ll/\M a uriucu Jin uuta)u/?tu lier no liberty. She lived as a mere child; this is fatal, I am satisfied, to many persons. People with hut a slight hold of life, die when they feel that there is no good reason for living. And those who have no liberty have no good reason to live. My present wife has taught me the most important lesson of my life. I thought it was necessary for me to look afterallthe expenditures, hut I have found that leaving it with her, she manages admirably. 1 thought that in everything she needed watching. It was a huge mistake.'" From this time to the hour of Mrs. M.'s death, nearly twenty years later, her.- was a delightful home, overflowing with gracious hospitality, a beautiful little kingdom with agentle queen ruling over all, and among her subjects no one was more reverent than a certain large, positive man, who twenty years before had proudly declared : "Here, I am king ; all shall obey me." During her last year, when her two big sons wentto their father with a request that they might attend a social gathering in a neighboring town, the father asked : JJUiV*; tVUU n|IUM7U tw J'VU i JHUUiVi tiuuwi it?" "Yes," said Master Joim, "we asked her this morning, and she says she is afraid that the company will not be good. But she don't know. How can she, lying there in her chamber. All the best fellows in the county will be there. Please, father, let us go. i wouldn't miss going for a thousand dollars." "Well, hoys. I don't see why you may not, but we will go to your mother." When those two big, hot-blooded boys, supported by their father, approached the bed on which lay the emaciated little moth-: er, and pleaded for liberty to attend a bril- j liant but dangerous party,'it must have been j a strange and touching sight. "Mother," said John, "all of the most respectable young men in the county will be there, anil thev will never ston laughing at us about being tied to our mother's ajiron strings. Please, mother, let us go. 1 will never, never, ask you to go anywhere again, if you will only let me go this time." After the boys had exhausted themselves with pleading, the father sent them out, and said to his wife : "I wish you would let them go. 1 don't believe there is any danger, and they are fairly wild about it. I wish you would change vour mind, and say yes." "My darling"' whispered the fainting little wife. "I can't boar any more now. My heart aches for the dear boys, but 1 cannot change iny mind." The father went out to the boys and tried to comfort them, but told them it was of no use to talk of it any more ; they must give it up. After Mi's. M.'s death, her husband told me of this scene with a deep solemnity which showed how completely he felt the absolute authority of the wife and mother in all that concerns the social life of her family. That scene in the sick chamber must have been watched with tender interest by thn It is lint, often thov witness in tins discordant world such a'triumph of goodness over physical force. A million homes in our country now full of discord and bitterness might he redeemed to harmony and love if the wife could quietly, patiently, firmly take into her hands the complete management of her home. It is her right and her duty. The struggle would j be short ami the victory full of blessing to j every member of the household.?/>! ? Leic- j /V Month/j/. Hoxoits to a ('oi.oKED Max.?Malaehi ; dray son, a deserving colored citizen of this 1 town, died suddenly last Sunday afternoon of acute congestion of the lungs. By his up-1 right conduct, and his bold, outspoken advocacy of the cause of good government in the county and State, he had won the re- j spect of all good citizens, and incurred the hostility of those negroes about tow n who ! wish to see race hostilities perpetuated. | White citizens contributed liberally to pur-! chase a neat burial outfit. The Lee LightInfantry, of which he was a staunch mem- J her, turned out in uniform, escorted the body to the grave, and buried it with military honors. Rev.lt. ('. Collins, pastor of the A. M. K. Zion Church delivered an appropriate discourse.?Chester lie/turfer. IllisccUattcous fading. OI K PUBLIC HIGHWAYS. THE COST OF THE PRESENT SYSTEM OF ROADS IN SOUTH CAROLINA. Ei)Gkfikld, July 23.?The population of South Carolina is in round numbers, about one million, or was by the Census of ISSii. In the ratio of live to one this would give 200,0011 voters. Now the question is, are there as many persons liable to road duty as there are voters ? The road age is from 10 to ")0. The Voting age is from 21 upwards. Will the class from 10 to oO equal the class from 21 upwards? I should answer in the affirmative or very nearly so, and if so the number of voters and road-workers must be very nearly equal. Hut we must deduct all persons exempt from road duty under the law. They will perhaps number one hundred in each county, or 3,300. We will put the number of "exempts" at 4,000. We must next deduct all persons, in cities and towns. These we can get with reasonable accuracy from thtr Census of 1880, and amount then to about 130,000, and I shall base my estimates on the status of that year. Tn thpssimp rntin of five to one. this would give us 26,000 voters in the cities and towns, and if my comparison is correct the same number of road workers witli the 4,000 "exempts" wc shall have 00,000 to deduct from 200,000, leaving 170,000 liable to road duty. Let us put it at 1.70,000. These 170,000 men are required by law to work on the public roads "not less than three nor more than twelve days" in each year. If they work the maximum number of days and their services should be valued at one dollar per day?and that is the price fixed by the law makers?we shall have 170,000 multiplied by twelve, amounting to $1,800,000 for one year. Suppose they average six days annually, the cost would be $900,000. I f a dollar a day is too much, then the law is wrong. Estimate it at fifty cents a day and for the twelve days the value of the labor would be $900,000 and for six days $470,000. But it may be said, doubtless will be said, this is not a sound argument or fair calculation as to the annual cost of public roads; that the people do this work when they can, perhaps, do nothing else, and is a contribution in kind to the public service and, therefore, does not cost the amounts specified. I only adopt the measure of value established by the people themselves through their representatives. The labor is worth that much, and in contemplation of law is expended upon the highways, 5ind, if so expended, is taken out of the productive power of the people of the State, and is therefore lost to other channels. I have seen the time when road hands summoned out of the fields were worth a dollar a day to the crops, and I insist it is a legitimate estimate in calculating the cost of maintaining the highways. If not bestowed upon the roads this labor would or should be utilized elsewhere so as to be worth a dollar a day to the industries of the State. One million fight hundred thoumnd dollar* is ii large sum of money, and if collected annually and judiciously expended on the public highways would work a wonderful change for the better. But the collection of no such sum or the half or the quarter of it will be necessary, as 1 think I can demonstrate further on. This, however is not the only item of cost. Section 1,087 of the General Statutes proprovides that "Any person who shall receive bodily injury or damage in his person or property through a defect in the repair of a highway, causeway or bridge, may recover in an action against the county the amount of damages fixed by the finding of ajury. If such defect in any road, bridge or causeway existed before such injury occurred, such damages shall not be recovered by the person injured, if his load exceeded the ordinary weight." The next section (1,088) provides, that, "If before the commencement of an action provided for in tin; foregoing section the ( ntuifv emmnissinners tender to the nlain V"",,V - A tiff the amount which lie might he entitled to recover, together with all costs, and the plaintiff refuse to accept the same, and does not recover upon subsequent trial a sum larger than the amount tendered, the defendants shall recover costs and the plaintiff be entitled to the results of no verdict." That is to say, if the county will pay for the repairs of every vehicle broken or injured by reason of a "defect in a highway, causeway or bridge," or for every personal injury or damage suffered from the same cause, the party injured shall not be entitled to recover, otherwise he will have that right. Suppose that provision should be put into execution, (and what is to prevent it except the forbearance of the public) what would be the annual cost to the people of this State ? The fact that the public have rarely availed themselves of it is no proof that it will not Ill lllf lUUUt*. It it said corporations Jiave no souls, and juries appear to act on this principle whenever they get an opportunity. A county is a corporation. Jt collects taxes for its support from the citizens, and in return guarantees protection to person and property. The citizen is entitled to this protection, and if lie fails to get it the State gives him his remedy. A man commits an assault and battery upon another ; the party assaulted has" his remedy in a civil action for damages, and besides this the State redresses the wrong by a criminal prosecution. One man commits a decastacit upon the property of another by .doing, or omitting to do, something required by law, and the party injured recovers damages for the wrong? Why omission or commission whereby one of its citizens sutlers? The Legislature evidently thought it should be, or it never would have enacted such a law as the foregoing. There isstill another matter of cost, in the form of an indirect tax, it is true, but nevertheless a tax and burden resulting from our wretchedly bad roads which might be mitigated and greatly reduced by good roads, viz.: the wear and tear of vehicles and the enormous expenditure of horse power. It is next to impossible to ascertain the number of vehicles of all kinds and descriptions used on the public highways in South Carolina, but I have adopted the*best method I can think of to approximate the 1111111lw>r nnfl hn.vp submitted this nuestion to a number of practical men. What is the proportion of vehicles to population in South Carolina? Some have answered one to every hundred, some one to fifty and others one to seventy-five. I should have answered one to every hundred, but a majority think this too large and decide that one to fifty would be nearer the mark. However, I will adopt one to a hundred. This would give us ten thousand vehicles. The average life of a vehicle, carriage, buggy, cart, wagon, Ac., is about five years in the present state of the roads. In localities where the roads are very bad they will not last longer than three years. Let us suppose the average cost of the repairs on these vehicles is So each. Is that too much or too little? If correct, they cost annually S50,<)()(). Now, it is safe to assume that if the roads were made good the average life of a vehicle would be increased to ten years and the annual repairs not more than $2.50. I think this would be within bounds, if the former premise is correct. Here alone would be a saving of $25,000 in cash annually in the matter of repairs, besides an enormous amount by reason of the increased longevity of the vehicles. This is a tax that conies out of the pockets of the people every year that might just as well be saved by the'exercise of more practical wisdom aiid foresight in working our public roads. I am satisfied on further reflection and inquiry! have placed the number of vehicles far too low. There must be one hundred thousand vehicles in the State. It seems to me these questions well worthy of earnest consideration. They are not vagaries indulged in for entertainment, but propositions coming within the scope of every man's experience. It is not claimed that they are accurate, hut they serve to i illustrate the point I make and to show j ; that we pay heavily for bad roads which j ! could be immeasurably improved by the; i judicious outlay of much less money. In an enterprising go-ahead country time j j is money. Time is money where the peo- j ; pie are active, industrious, vigilant, pro- j grcssive. If time is money, what, vast j I sums are expended upon our public roads? Here is another tax?heavy tax. Time i spent pulling and hauling, "geeing and ! ! hawing," swearing and complaining, is | ' very unprotitably spent. There are many : j sections of road in Edgefield county, and no \ j doubt in other counties, that cannot he j j traveled in the winter in less than three, sometimes four hours, whereas not more j j than an hour and a half ought to be requir- i j ed, and they can be made so that not more j j than an hour and a half would be required. J i I Wnnl.l :+ imt li? Imf-lni- +n romiip tlio ro:lils i ' and save this time to be used more profitably and avoid the torture of mind and body and loss of vital energy and forceIt ; would seem so. I might cite other facts showing the ex- <; travagant cost of our road system, but they would only be cumulative. Ifourroads cost ! theone-half, or the one-fourth, or the onetenth of the amounts above stated, they ' would be the most expensive nuisances that J any people ever supported. Jiut I have not '< overstated it. I have not included the an- j nual tax we pay for the building and repair of bridges, which is a tax upon property, and in the aggregate for the whole State ] must reacli a large sum, and which I cannot : give because my inquiries on that point ' have not yet been answered. I have not : referred to the increased expense to which every man is subjected in the additional : horse-power ho must use to transport his ' family and products over the hills and gul- '< lies and through the mud and' slush he en- '< counters in the public roads. Two mules ] will haul four bales of cotton over a proper ly located, well-graded and well-worked road as readily as four mules now get along with the same load. Apply this proportion 1 to the internal commerce and transportation of this State, carried on by horse-power, and i- ~ f -i some idea may oe jorjueu ui us c.\icnu This is a part of the cost the people pay towards maintaining their public highways, and 110 insignificant part. It might be saved by good roads. M. ('. Bi*tlkr. From the Liverpool Mercury, July 111. JACK ASHORE IX NEW ORLEANS. Much as philanthropy has done in Liverpool for the material, moral and spiritual welfare of the hardy men who carry her commerce across the seas, we may nevertheless learn something from the experience of others in the same field of action, and, perhaps add a touch of grace to the institutions whose chief recommendation at present is their severe utility. AVe are led into writing a few lines on this subject, as the result of an interview we have had with the ltev. Dr. AVitherspoon, of New Orleans, who brought with him an introduction to the editor of the Mercury from a brother journalist across the Atlantic, the editor of the New Orleans City Item. The reverend doctor, as we learn from this and other communications and from half an hour's conversation with him, has charge when at home of an institution which combines a sailors'home with a sailors' bethel, a sailors' reading room, a sailors' restaurant, and a sailors' place of amusement; and he is now traveling through the principal ports of the old world with a view to pick up any new ideas that may help him in his work. On his way over in recognition of his labours among flw. L'ftii.iinn /\f Orloone lio Hie lilt ^CaillUll Wl Al v.- )? \/l 1 IV> if uir v.vy . guest of the steamship Yucatan, of the LT. 1. and P. (J. Line, and in this city, he is the i guest of Captain Robert Watson, who, he I says "has launched him well in Liverpool." 1 lie also brings with him recommendations 1 I from high officials both in the state and the j church across the Atlantic. At the request j of the President of the United States, for in- i stance, the Secretary of State has, "on ac- ( count of the commendable nature of his i mission," given him such a letter of intro- < duction as is not often written to the diplo- i matic and consular officers of his Government throughout Europe. Then the Brit- < ish consul at New Orleans (Mr. A. G. de i Fontblanque) writes, "I most warmly rec- ] onimend him (I)r. Witherspoon) to all who ] take an interest in this too much neglected ( ami oitcn lu-useu ciass. ire mis incsuppurt i and esteem of all my foreign colleagues." ] The Bishops of Louisiana and Mississippi | commend him. Bishop Thompson writes, "Though not in our communion J)r. Witherspoon has always received the highest consideration from the Clergy of the American Church, and his high * character, his devotion and success in his special work, has been such as to win the commendation in and encouragement of all Christian people in New ()rleans." Bishop Galleher writes?"I desire to commend him for all Christian people as a faithful and worthy servant of our common Master, and ask for him all courtesy and kindness. He is doing a good work for the sailors." The Presbytery of New Orleans, of which ho is a member, grants him his credentials, and adds, "During his absence from this country he is affectionately and cordially commended to the fellowship of our Presbyteran brethren, and of all Christians wherever his lot may be cast." This being the man, we turn next to his work. Having passed through the War of Secession?in which, being a Southerner, he naturally took the Southern side?Dr., then plain Air. w linerepuon, on uiu mvuiiuun 01 Hew Dr. B. M. Palmer, went to New Orleans to take charge of the mission work 1 connected with that gentleman's church. lie had not been there long before some sea- ' men, whom he had gathered around him, < desired him to open for them a reading and I writing room, where they could spend their ( spare hours, near the river. With the as- 1 sistance of a few friends this was accomplished, and the room thus established be- ! came the nucleus of the great institution J over which I)r. Witherspoon now presides. 1 New buildings were erected in 1877. In the f course of the lbllowing'lK months these had to be four times enlarged and added to. In 1 1881 more land was bought, and more build- < ing took place. So that at the present time |1 the institution embraces a chapel with ac- j( commodations for -100 persons, a reading , 1 room, a home with sleeping room foro(), and j j a concert hall seating 8110 persons. It is j i called collectively the New Orleans Bethel? ! a name which evidently has a widersigniti- \ cation across the Atlantic than it has here. 1 For, as will be seen, it includes a great deal besides the mere provision for holding reli i gious services. The distinguishing feature 1 ! t\f Hm lU.tlwO imlporl n< ooioimred with ' other institutions of the kind in various parts of the world is, we should say, the happy harmony with which it combines secular amusement with moral influences and religious instruction. The ordinary Sailors' Home is often of far too severe a type to win the affections or even the sym- j patliy of so Bohemian and volatile a class I as our seamen. I never could stun' | Them Sailors' Homes, for a man is a man, And a bell for dinner and a bell for tav, And a bell to sing and a bell to pray, * j And a bell for this and a bell for that, And "Wipe your feet upon the mat!" And the rules bung up; and lined if you're late, And a chap like a bobby sliuttin' the gate? It isn't raisonable, that it is'n : They calls it a Home, I calls it a Prison. The promoters and managers of the New Orleans Bethel have managed to steer clear of this rock of over-severity. What i"> more, I they have been careful not to shut their in| stitution off from the rest of the world as if j it were a mere asylum or a ghetto for sailors only. It is open to the general public as j well as the seamen, and the citizens generI ally of New Orleans, of all classes and all j creeds, take a common interest in using I and supporting it. We have this on no I ('.i' jxtrfe statement of interested witnesses. Our own consul, M. de Fontblanquc, thus writes of the institution in one of his official reports, which has been printed in this country as a parliamentary blue book: "It (the Bethel) is not only a place of worship but of instruction ami amusement; one of its large rooms is well supplied with newspapers and magazines, and for certain hours every day Dr. Witherspoon attends to provide materials for those who wish to correspond with relatives and friends. Twice in every week a concert, lecture, or mixed entertainment is given, in which the sailors assist with their songs, choruses, and recitations, some of which are admirably rendered. The large audiences gathered together on those occasions are in a great part composed of citizens with their wives and children, who also join in the performances. The rest are sailors to whom admission is free. Thus the seaman feels that he is not made an exhibition- of, but joins on equal terms with ladies and gentlemen to furnish one for others. The effect of this cannot fail to be humanising. Now, a home where the seaman can live where no liquors are sold, and he is charged for only what he voluntarily consumes, is added.' It is patronized by all my colleagues, and has my warmest approbation and support." This is strong testimony to tiie excellence or tne uemei, und it wns written we may add, before the institution had attained its existing dimensions. At the present time, in addition to its other agencies for good, it has a little periodical entitled 77/r Seaman, but more familiarly known as "The Log," in which ire registered all matters of interest to the members and inmates of the Bethel, and in which there occasionally appears an original composition in prose or verse from the pen of some lively tar with literary proclivities. Whether Dr. Witherspoon will pick up any new ideas which will enable him still further to develop and improve his institution remains to he seen. ' In any case lie expresses himself as being very much pleased with what he has been shown here, ind grateful for the courtesy which has on til hands been extended to him; and the people of Liverpool, in return, will, we are sure, wish him every success in his benevolent mission, not only in their own city, but in all the other European ports which he has yet to visit. FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH. Nothing is more curious than the fact that [lying as one of a crowd seems to be more terrible to a man than simply dying his own individual death. Unquestionably there seems to be 110 kind of death more dreaded kxr mon rlnoth Aithor fmm sllflrlfll f'll tastrophies?like that of the lting Theatre it Vienna and that on the Clyde, for instance?or from pestilence. No doubt it is perfectly true that death cannot be shared in the same sense in which a peril or a pleasure can be shared; you cannot, in all probability, 1)0 conscious of the strength of companionship after life begins to dicker low, nor are there above one or two people in the world with whom most men would covet the sense of companionship in such a moment as that of death. Still it is somewhat jurious that death on a grand scale always seems to be more terrible, even to the separate individuals, than the ordinary death by jnits. Of course, terror is very catching, Hid, therefore, the terror of a crowd always mhancesthe terror of the individual. But chough that explains the supreme agony of i sinking ship or a burning theatre, it does lot in the least explain the additional dread if death which a plague seems to inspire in individuals, for between the inhabitants of i plague-stricken city there is always very much less active sympathy t.ian there was jefore the pestilence appeared, and it is *atlier through the growth of mutual repulsion than through the heightening of a common sympathy that the influence of pestience is chiefly felt. Perhaps it will be said that men do not iear death the more on account of the numjer dying around tlieni, but only that that lumber makes evident the greatness of the risk. But that can hardly be the explana;ion of the matter, otherwise we might exiect a much deeper terror in every man to whom the doctors have frankly acknowledged that death is imminent, than we ought :o find in a healthy inhabitant of a plaguestricken city, whose chance of death is prob- ; ibly much less than one in two. As a matter of fact, very few patients stricken with ordinary disease, who are :old that death is inevitable, show any lanic at all, while the perfectly healthy Innnn /\f+U 11 .mm, surruuuucu. [jc.imcuvc, jn w/ uiwn consumed with a terror which renders lim absolutely unfit for the discharge of lis duties. It seems certain that the selish terror inspired by the sight of dying rowdsi does unnerve men in a manner in which a sentence of death passed upon ;hemselves would not unnerve them at all. ^Ve wonder why this is, and suppose the reason to be that it is only a great risk in ombination with the great chance of escape that unnerves a man whom the prospect of certain death would not unnerve at ill. It is the eager passion with which all ;he mind rushes into the alternative of proonged life that really unmans a nature which would bo steady enough in facing certain death. Mingle a great fear with a rivid ray of hope and you will turn a head which could hold its own against inevitable fate. The tumultuous element in the case if plague is, we believe, the selfish desire :o escape rather than the actual prospect of leath. The panic felt is really the panic of tempestuous hope rather than the panic of rear. Extinguish the hope and the panic will often cease as completely as if you had ? +1.,. ;wlf An../7/^i I J.YUIlgUlSIlCU IIH.T lY'lll llDCil. JVUIIU'?( > tjjy.' I 'afor. Tiie Golden Rule in the Family.? tt is not one alone that should give kindly words of encouragements and praise, each >houl(l express their appreciation of any litle effort that has been put forth for their .'oinfort and happiness. We have seen homes where the wife and mother made it >nly a home in name by her constant fretling and fault-finding. How much more womanly would it be to liin to rule the hearts of her family by jentle tones and words of praise for deeds well done, knowing that no chords are ever so strong and lasting as the chords of love. Some parents are so afraid that a child will grow proud that they never praise him ir commend his acts in any way. Of course there is a difference in the character of . hildren, and a timid, sensitive child needs more praise than one wlio is more self-con-1 tident; but we believe that judicious praise is a powerful aid in the training and man-1 i gen lent of children. It is the high reward j jf every successful struggle to do right, and . if constantly withheld it leaves a stinging sense of injustice in the heart of the child. Xo more beautiful sight can be imagined than a home circle where father, mother, brothers and sisters, all seem to vie with ?ach other in constant consideration lor tne happiness of all, and appreciation of each! jther's labors, trials and sacrifices. + ? ? Oi>d Post a n Customs ix Mexico.?In the city of Chihuahua, Mexico, it is a great juriosity to go for the mails. A few only < have boxes, and the others go up and call for "the mails," and in return receive the Hit ire batch to look over for themselves and take all they choose for themselves and their friends', and after the last fellow has looked it over at his leisure you can get pour chance at it, and so round, while it i jrows more and more and beautifully less, the postage rates are also peculiar. It costs a j_ _ i... ?4ha?yi fhn Qfofoc fa ! I 1 ve CeillS IU SU1KI U. ICllCI uum VHt inuiv^ IV j Chihuahua, but six cents to send one from | < ;hat city to the States. It takes twenty-five ,'ents to send a letter anywhere in Mexico? i i.e., six cents will send a letter to Boston, 1,000 miles away, but it costs twenty-five 1 ;ents to send it three miles away. It costs ] :wenty-five cents to mail a letter from Paso < lei Xorte to Chihuahua, but cross the river i it El Paso, Texas, and it costs but five cents, ] hough it is farther, and must go through i Paso del Xorte. While you can mail a I otter in the States for five cents, if you < leglect to put on a five-cent stamp and < eave it three, they will charge, according to 1 heir custom, double the deficit, and reckon ] t from their standpoint, so that a letter on 1 ivhich three cents was paid here collects six 1 cuts there, making a total postage of nine < outs instead of five. < THE FIRST TELEGRAPH LINE. The first telegraph lino in this country was construcod between Baltimore and Washington about the year 1845, under an appropriation made by Congress. Professor Samuel F. B. Morse, the inventor of the "Morse Alphabet," was superintendent of the line, Alfred Vail was assistant superintendent in Washington, Henry J. Rodgers > was assistant superintendent at Baltimore, Lewis Zantzinger was operator at Washington, and Capt. Lewis A. Chasteau, who is now in Philadelphia, was operator at Baltimore. The line was copper wire, covered or wrapped wim couon. ine instruments were all very large, the relay magnet being kept in a box three feet long, which was always kept carefully locked, the assistant superintendent keeping the key. No insulators were known at that time but sealingwax, glass, oiled silk, and a very miserable preparation of asphaltum. The magnets that covered the liorshoo iron were covered with sealing-wax, and there were no such thing as thumb-screws to connect two wires. AH connections were made by glass tubes tilled with mercury, and the operators in handling these, in case of thunder storm, held in their hands large pieces of oiled silk. The hours of service were from :] to 9 A. M., 1 to 2 P. M, and from 5 to <5 P. M. The Congressmen would telegraph from Baltimore to the Washington hotels at which they had been stopping to know the amount of their bills. The answer was considered to be a wonderful test of the accuracy of the telegraph. In fact at first it was a little more than a plaything. The principal business consisted in sending the names of persons to Washington; the operator there would write it back, and the paper bearing the indentations would be handed to the party, together with a card upon which the Morse alphabet, was printed. The experimenter was then expected to decipher the writing at his leisure. After the telegraph had proved successful between Baltimore and Washington, a company was then organized to operate a line between New York and Washington. A line was then constructed from Brooklyn to Coney Island, the object being to report the arrival of shipping. It was on this line that a cable was first used. Colt encased a wire in a lead pipe, and this was sunk in the East River, but it did not work very well. The anchors of vessels were constantly dragging it, and once, when the cable was hauled up by the anchor of a foreign vessel, the captain thought be had a prize, and pulled half of it aboard ship before he knew what it wfis. A line was next built from Boston to Hull, for the same object as the New York and Coney Island line. About that time Henry 1). O'Reilly took a contract to construct a line between Baltimore and Philadelphia. "At the commencement," says Capt. Chasteau, "but little business was transacted over the line, and the first persons to use it were the stock brokers. B. B. French was president of the Magnetic Telegraph Company, and it was under his management that the first thing looking to a strike of the operators occurred. We were then paid fifty dollars a month. Major French, who. I remember, had a singing tone of voice, he having been reading clerk of the House of Representatives, came to Washington and we appointed a committee of two to ask for an increase of pay. Major French went to each operator and inquired minutely into his circumstances, &c. He appeared very much impressed by what he learned about Washington boarding-houses, and our pay wns increnspd. We had resolved to strike if we did not get it. After the completion of this line Henry I). O'Reilly built another from Philadelphia, to Pittsburg, and on that David Brooks was engaged, and proved to be a valuable man generally. Other lines began to be built, and the business increased until it reached its present proportions. Most of the old operators are (lead now. There were many brilliant men among them, but many fell into dissipated ways of living. At first the telegraph was a toy, and as no charge was made for exhibiting it in operation, the operator was exposed to the temptation to 'go and refresh,' and so it was a sad arrangement." AMERICAN WHEAT PROSPECTS. The Department of Agriculture at Washington has been making a tabulation from available statistics relative to the average amount of wheat consumed for food in the United States during the past five years, together with the average amount required for seed and average exports during that time. The figures show the average home consumption to have been 233,139,780 bushels per annum, and the amount required for seed 50,800,000 bushels, while the exports averaged 145,274,078 bushels, making the total average annual consumption of Amercan wheat during that period 420,214,321) bushels. The statistics for 1882 show that the total crop was about 404,000.000 bushels, of which 240,000,000 were consumed at home, upwards of which 51,000,000 were used lor seed and 153,000,000 exported, leaving on hand a surplus of nearly 54,000,000 to make up deficiencies, if there be any, in the present year's crop. The department's estimates for the present year place the crop at about 435,000,000 bushels, which is a trifie over the average consumption of the past five years, although not equal to last year's consumption by 10,000,000. The year's production, however, taken in connection with the fifty million surplus carried over from last year, will amply suffice for all home requirements and an export demand as great as we have ever been called upon to till in any one year. it will be impossible to predict prices for the coming season until the condition of the European crop is more accurately known. There is sure to be a large export demand, but whether it will be drawn from this country at present or higher than present prices can only be determined when the extent of the Russian and India crops available for export are known. Jt is known that the English commercial interests are straining every nerve to so increase transportation facilities in their Indian possessions as to make Indian wheat a formidable competitor with that of American for the European markets. Russia has been smarting under the superiority of our methods of cultivation and transportation for some years and is making heroic effort to get hack the trade she has lost and it is possible may succeed to some extent. The problem, therefore, resolves itself into one of comparative expense. We have the wheat to spare and Europe wants. The price at which we shall be compelled to sell it will depend on how cheaply Russia and India can supply the European demand. Wants a Statu.?I). W. Sexton, Esq., of Windsor, Ontario, has written to the Agricultural Department to ascertain if ten million acres of land in this State can be bought. He wants all in one body, located on the coast, anil would not care if it embraced parts of other States. The purchase is desired for colonization purposes. There are about 17,000,000 acres of land in the r.. , ? n 1 - wnoie iState 01 ooum mi-unnu, mm w ?.m* wild land speculator from the realms of Great Britain is in dead earnest, and he can command the money, why the Governor will have to call the Legislature in extra session and save the State dv exhuming the Monroe doctrine and establishing it along the coast to keep off this land grabber. Or, probably this Sexton is seeking a vast cemetery for the British dead of Her Majesty's irmy when they come over to enforce the payment of Confederate bonds. Or, he may not have heard that Democratic rule is of force in South Carolina, and thinking that Chamberlain's crew is still in power, concludes that in this time the State has either been stolen or is for sale for taxes. The proposition will remain in abeyance until the return of Colonel Butler from Marion, when it is to be hoped that he will give no encouragement to such a bold, bad scheme. Columbia Register.