Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j 2\,it Ijniieptniitnt JFamili fjttfospaptr: Jfor Ifjt promotion of l|)t ^political, Social, ^grioiltnral anb Commtrtial Jntfrtsfs of tjjc jJoutlj. j TERMS?$2.50 A YEAR, IS ADVANCE. YOL. 29. YOEKYILLB, S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1883. NO. 38. " " " * * ' * ' 1 * I ' * i? -J !- -t 1 J 1 ,1 li Jtlectd foftrg. LOVE'S POWER. If I were blind, and thou should enter K'er so softly in the room, I should "know it, I should feel it. Something subtle would reveal it, And a glory round the centre, That would lighten up the gloom. And my heart would surely guide me, With love's second-sight provide me, One amid the crowd to find, If I were blind! If I were deaf, and thou hadst spoken Ere thy presence I had known, I should know it, I should feel it, Something subtle would reveal it, And the seal at once be broken By love's liquid undertone. Deaf to other, stranger voices. And the world's discordant noisesWhisper, whereso'er thou art, 'Twill reach my heart! If I were dead, and thou shouldst venture Near the coflin where I lay, I should know it, I should feel it, Something subtle would reveal it, And no look of mildest censure Rest upon that face of clay. Shoulust thou kiss me, conscience flashes Of love's fire, through death's cold ashes Would give back the cheek its red, , If I were dead! She Jtottj iellct. MEG'S ADVICE. It was the (lay after the party, and car any day be more utterly wretched ? I mean of course, to the people who have given the party?especially when, like my uncle and aunt, they are of quiet-going habits and moderate means, ancl must let their guest; dance in the dining-room and have suppei in the biggest bedroom. It was the day after the party, and even, individual in the house was miserable. The days before .the party had not been remark able for comfort, but they at least had beer tinged with the radiance of hope and brighl anticipation, while now nothing remained but "dregs and bitterness," and to cleai away and to get the house in order again This would have seemed rather a dreary task in any circumstances, I dare say ; but it was greatly aggravated by the fact thai we were all in very low soirits, or to put il honestly, in dreadfully bail tempers, having each and all a special grievance of our own, My uncle's household consisted of himsell and my aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gil bee, theii two sons, Christopher and Peter, their twe daughters, Lottie and Sophy, and myself. Meg Merton, the orphan daughter of my aunt's only sister. My mother had died it-hnn t iciK pifrht. vp;irs old. and my father, whose habits were by no means of a domestic kind, sent me to school, and allowed me to spend all my holidays at my aunt's, and when he died and my schooldays were over, my temporary home became a permanent one. This came to pass quite naturally, and was taken as a matter of course by my kindhearted cousins ; and Aunt Charlotte, who had always regarded me as one of her own children, never seemed to suppose that she was conferring any particular favor upon me by giving me a happy home among them all. But I appreciated it, and endeavored to prove my gratitude in every way possible. I was older than Lottie and Sophy and left school before they did, and I became very useful in the .house. Aunt Charlotte was of a nervous, timid nature, and as I happened to be self-possessed and cooHand decided she soon came to rely entirely on my judgment and energy, and in a year or two ! was house-keeper-in-chief, and my advice was asked and pretty generally taken on matters both small and great; indeed, "Meg's advice" became proverbial in the household. Naturally I grew a little dictatorial, for I often wondered what they could have done without me. Chris wasthe only one I could not manage. "Bully the others as much as you like." he would say, "but you shall never bully me 5" and somehow or other I never felt inclined to try. "Tiffs" occurred among us now and then; but, on the whole, we were a happy family until the day after the party, when, as I have said, we were each and all miserable. My uncle was confined to his room with a h'lir>n< o+tunl- Mv mint, lnnk-pff vprv hay ?ard when she first came down in the morning, and said her head ached badly; and her appearance did not brighten its she and I investigated the state of the crockery. "I shall never give a party again," she said, quietly, but it was the quietness ol despair. "Nine glasses broken and three ol the best china plates, and a great stain on the drawing-room carpet! We might have been entertaining a set of barbarians !" Christopher and Peter, usually the most affectionate of brothers, were now not on speaking terms with each other, as my aunt and I discovered at breakfast-time; and, instead of 2oin<r to business together, Peter lingered until "Chris hud gone, and then started about five minutes afterward. This unfriendliness arose, as 1 well knew, because of a stylish disagreeable city belle, whom some friends of ours had brought with them to the party, and who had flirted desperately, but with maddening impartiality, with both my deluded cousins. Hence their coldness toward each other this morning. As for Lottie and Sophy,' I wished, before the day was out, that they were not on speaking terms, for they were nagging each other all the time, and finished just before dinner with a downright spiteful quarrel; and Aunt Charlotte cried. Their grievance was about two brothers, Tom and Harry Nowill; for Lottie liked Harry best and Sophy likeel Tom ; and with the usual contrariness of mankind, Harry was desperately in love with Sophy and Tom with Lottie: so it was usual, after every merrymaking we might have, for Lottie and Sophy to fal out about them. I felt vexed with every body ; but 1 think I was quite justified ii being so, for they would all persist in be lieving?or saying that they believed?tha I was in love with ridiculous John Howarth just because he happened to be in love witl me, and took care that every one shouk know he was, too. I did think some o them at least might have had more sense And now this fine city belle had appeared on the scene?oh, 1 felt tempted to breal another best china plate and all the remain ing glasses as I thought about it. And, i aunt had only known the state of mind ] was in, she would never have trusted me t( wash them up and put them away. Evei our Newfoundland dog seemed to share th< general dissatisfaction, and kept comiiq from his kennel as far as his chain wouli permit, and uttering longanddismal howls The cook said that it was the sign of s death ; but the housemaid persisted that i foretold a wedding. I did not feel as if cared much which it was or what happen ed?only I think I felt more inclined for : funeral than a wedding, especially if tin wedding entailed a breakfast and?anothe: party. My aunt and 1 had been up as early a usual this morning?we had too much to d< a- i i.i- U.l to UC UUIU IV lie 111 ww. V 111117 mui j. civi v course wanted their breakfast at the usua hour, and their luncheons?which they al ways took with them and ate in a little bad room at the office?put up ; and then, whei they had started for business, wecomnieneet our dismal investigations through the house We always dined at G o'clock, and it wa nearly that hour before we had succeeds in reuueing the house to anything like or tier. Then Lottie and Sophy had tliei qumrel, in the midst of which Chris andPe ter arrived, and we went to dinner. Chris folded his arms and put on a dogget and determined look as he took his place a the table. "I breakfiisted off cold fowl," he sai< gloomily?"1 lunched oil'cold fowl?1 refus to dine off it." Mv aunt grew tearful again. ""this is not cold fowl," she answered "It is turkey, and you might eat it. Coli beef will keep a day or two?fowls and turkeys, with sauce over them, will not. 1IV _ i But"?turning to me resignedly?"ring for < sj ~i the beef to be brought in, Meg; we have : it had enough unpleasantness for one day." e: "How is it there is a whole turkey left?" j tl ' inquired Chris, somewhat mollified as the s< 1 beef appeared. i rr "It was Meg's fault," replied Aunt Char- j h lotte. "She put it on that dark shelf be-i S i hind the cellar door, and I found it there | this morning quite forgotten. But I won- j ii ! der, Meg, you did not notice that there i h ; were only two turkeys at supper; this [ | would have been eaten if it had been there." i y "I did not have any supper," I said, w ! "for I thought there would not be room.1' [ a j "That is merely an excuse," interposed j Lottie; "you were spooning with John oi Howarth in the conservatory all supper- si time." I meant to look defiant, but I may have ss looked guilty. li "Did he propose to you ?" asked Sophy, sf staring at me. gi "I will put a stop to this nonsense about John Howarth," I said determinedly, k "You shall all know exactly how the case tc stands, and then there will be no excuse ai for any further display of stale wit at our w expense. As Sophy supposes, Mr. Howarth did propose to me last night." P' "Oh,'Chris," interrupted Lottie, "how w could you hit ray cat in such a savage way? . Come here, Tip?poor pussy !" I "You should teach your cat not to stick his claws into one's leg at dinner-time," retorted Chris; "then lie wouldn't get hit." "He was not touching you!" returned st Lottie, warmly. "He was begging quite ol inoffensively." gl "He was sticking his claws into my leg," 1 reiterated Chris, with quiet and most ag- w i gravating obstinacy. hi "Now don't you two begin quarreling," y [ said Sophy, impatiently, "but let Meg tell a' 1 us about John Howarth. I have often ti ' read about proposals in tales but I have h: r never heard of a real bona fide one descibed. st Ho tell us every word he said, Meg." r "Did he go down upon his knees?" asked ai Chris. "For if he did I wish I had been there to see him." sr "I shall not tell you whether he went ir ; down on his knees or not," I answered, hi calmly; "norshall I tell you what he said. y But," 1 added, with sentimental medita- tl tion, "he said some very nice things indeed to me?nicer than you could put to- C ; gethcr, Chris, if you tried for a hundred years." ai My aunt suddenly burst into tears. "This is the finishing blow," she said? C! "Meg going to be married! I will never p< give another party as long as I live! It w was against my better judgment that I yielded this time. I did it to please you pi all, and this is the result?furniture ruined. '1 eatables wasted, your father ill, you all d< 1 quarreling like this, and Meg going to be i married! No, never another party in this ti house." w "What?not even when Meg marries in John Howarth ?" sneered. Chris. pi "No, not even then," replied aunt, re- u] doubling her sobs. us "Well don't cry, auntie," I interposed, "for I am not going to marry him. 1 gave ri him a very decided 4Xo.' " st Chris here gave a quick covert glance in hj my direction, after which his assumption in of perfect indifference seemed to me a trifle w overacted. sc But aunt refused to be pacified ; she had J11 reached that state of mind when troubles tr are positively preferred to blessings. ".Saying 'No' to Mr. Howarth will not buy a new drawing-room carpet," she said, "or eat up all the tarts and custards and er cakes. I am sure"?warming to her sub- p? ject?"the waste has been shameful! When th the confectioner's man came this morning, n( I had not a single cake or jelly or blanc- si< manage to send back, for every one had th been broken into ! And I saw you, Chris, ec take just a spoonful out of that expensive or porcupine, when a plainer cake already gr commenced was close by you." sn "Oh, don't blame Chris for that, auntie!" so I exclaimed. "It was done lor miss jones, v< do doubt. If lie had the power, Chris T] would cut a bit off the Koh-i-Noor itself if qi ' she asked him." co "I would," said Chris; "she is worth a re a hundred Koh-i-Noors." cc "Really!" observed Peter, aroused at ec last frorrTthe gloomy lethargy that had pos- rt> sessed him all dinner time, and addressing 0f Chris. "What a pity she does not regard d< you in the same light. She told me last al night how she hated dancing with you, say- it ing that you were so clumsy you were constantly getting your feet on her dress." th "Indeed!" retorted Chris. "She told me pj t the very same thing about you." fy "I don't believe it," said Peter. p] "Do you mean to say I am telling lies?" T demanded Chris. li< "Another quarrel!" cried my aunt. "Oh, f dear, dear! what will be the end of it all ?" "The end of it all might be pleasant orwiufrh " I rcnliurl with pnorjrv. "ifonlvev- Ol V,I1UU&1?J ^ J ? ?/ ' ery one of you would display a little coin- fii mon-sense. I am out of patience with you th ' all!" to 1 "Well, Meg," said Lottie, calmly, "you w | generally seem to consider yourself capable fu ! of setting the world to rights; so can you d< 1 set our little world straight? It seems to w 1 me we are all miserable. What can you p< suggest to make us happy ?" m "Common-sense," I repeated?"only com- te j mon-sense. Take my advice and peace will ei [ be restored at once." in - "Let us have it then," said my aunt, quer- of I uiously. te | "(>h! let us have 'Meg's advice' at once!" cc ; | sneered Chris, again. "How is it we have th [ j not thought of this panacea earlier?" su ; j "I will commence with my uncle," I be- fu igan, firmly. "Let him?at least make him? w II see the doctor to-night and he will be better n< ) i before morning." !>' "That is gotxl advice enough," said aunt, }>< ' "and 1 will tell him." it j "As for you, aunt?go to bed at once and hi forget your worries. We will start a sub- zo j scription list for you, which I will head with five shillings; and if the others give with [ equal liberality, according to their means, you will be able to replace all the broken ' I <TnoL-tirv oncl hnw the white hearth-ruir 11 cieaned'also." " ?' fj "That is good advice, too, and I will do " my part by going to bed immediately," said i aunt, meekly. "I am much obliged to you, : Meg." 0 ^ "As for you, Peter," I continued, severe- (, ~f ly, "i think, instead of quarreling with ^ ^ ' Chris about Miss Jones, you had better turn I your attention nearer home. I know poor j little Kitty Reynolds would nearly cry her ^ 31 eyes out when she got home last night, or r j rather this morning." 11 "You know more than I do, then," re! turned Peter. ^ J; "Yes, I do ; fori am in Kitty'sconfidence ^ .....I -..on .,^/i ?,it. iiivl I know wlmt Kittv [ said to iiie when she was going home, and you do not. And my advice to you, Peter, V ~ j is to make it up with Kitty, and leave Miss j1 u j Jones for those who want her." p ! "Capital advice! But I never asked you V/ i for it, you see ; so I don't consider myself u j bound'to take it;" and he went on eating * y tarts. e] f "And now girls," I continued, looking at Ir 1 Lottie and Sophy, "make up your minds to . the inevitable and change lovers. They ? ; are twins, and so much alike that you can- 0| ! j not always tell which is which ; and I think AV 1 it must be merely contrariness in you two to ? pretend that you like either one better than ;ll s the other; and"?with just a careless glance J,, j at Chris?"contrariness never pays in the j ?< . end. So take my advice transfer your affec-1 r tions quietly and say no more about it." I Then I helped myself to some blane mange, gi and went on eating my dinner. T I "But you have forgotten me," observed w t Chris; "pray have you no advice for me?" a) I hesitated a moment and then looked at tl 1 him defiantly. ai e "Well," I said, "I think the advice I have si j given Peter might also apply to you; in- tl : stead of making yourself ridiculous about pi l. Miss Jones, I think you might find some gi 1 one to admire nearer home." 11 Then, owing to Peter's delighted "Bravo, leg!" and Chris' steady stare, I had a senition that I had never experienced in all ly self-possessed life before?I think it was mbarrassment?and 1 arose hastily from le table and left the room, presumably to je "why that dog howled so." And Chris lust have felt curious on the point, too, for e also left the table and followed ine to lero's kennel. When we came in again Peter was standlg in the hall with his top coat on, brushing is hat very carefully. "Why, Peter," I exclaimed, "where are ou going? I should have thought you rould have been more inclined for bed than walk. Where are you going ?" Peter looked at us with a curious mixture f defiance and sheepishness in his expreson. "I am going to see Frank Reynolds," he lid. "He told me last night that he had a ttle terrier he thinks I shall like, and he lid he would let me have it cheap: so I am uing to look at it." "But," remarked Chris, pitilessly, "you now that Frank has gone away from home >-day, and won't be back until Monday ; id your journey will be utterly fruitless, ill it not, if you find only Kitty in ?" "I shall see the terrier," muttered Peter, utting on his hat, "and shall leave word hether 1 shall have him or not." "Oh ! I have no doubtit will be all right," remarked, with an innocent air. eter looked at me, and then said : "What was the matter with Nero?" "Oh?his chain?I think?his collar!" I ammered, taken aback by the suddenness r his .question, and ending by an appealing lance at Chris. "Never mind, never mind!" cried Peter, aving his hands. "As you said, Meg, I ave aoubt it will be all right; it's leap ear, you know, and Chris has only acted ; any other man?" Here Peter darted irough the hall door and slammed it after Lin, otherwise the hat brush would have ruck him. When Chris and I entered the dining-room ant was there. "Your uncle has just seen the doctor," niling a little as she kissed me before sayig good-night; "and, if any of the others ive been as ready to act upon your advice, 3u can let us know in the morning. I >inL- u-p nr#? till rpnrlv for bed to-nierht." "I shall have to sit up for Peter," said hris. "One of the servants can do that," said int. "No, they are all tired out," answered hris; "and I shall like to sit up just to see >or Peter's bewilderment when I ask him hat is the color of his terrier." "Oh! he won't be bewildered at all," T it in. "He'll answer in all simplicity, Mum color,' or 'Navy blue,' and then won?r why you look surprised." When aunt had retired, I noticed that Lote and Sophy were busy doing something ith their photograph albums, and, observig them quietly, I saw them exchange two totograpns. I said nothing; but we went >stairs together they were merrier than jual, and quite friendly again. Thus the day began so dismally ended ght happily; and its results were happier ill?for Peter and Kitty are married and ippy now; Lottie and Sophy are whisperig together about a forthcoming "double eddingand Chris?having also condeended to take "Meg's advice" for once? is a wife who worships the very ground he j eads on?and he deserves it, too. ! A Bat can See with its Wings.?There a singular property with which the but is idowed too remarkable and curious to be issed altogether unnoticed. The wings of ese creatures consist of a delicate and ?arly naked membrane of great size condermg the size of the body, but, beside lis, the nose is, in some varieties, lurnishl with a membranous foliation, and in oths the external membranous ears are eatly developed. These membranous tisles have their sensibility so high that inething like a new sense is thereby dedoped, as if in aid of the sense of sight, he modified impressions which the air, in liescence or in. motion, however slight, tmmunicates, the tremulous jar of its cur uts, its temperature, the indescribable mditionsof such portions of air as are in intact with different bodies, are all appantly appreciated by the bat. If the eyes a bat be covered up, or if he be cruelly jprived of sight, it will pursue its course )out a room with a thousand obstacles in i way, avoiding them all; neither dashing gainst a wall nor touching the smallest ting, but threading its way with the utmost ecision and quickness, and passing adroit through apertures or interspaces of threads aced purposely across the apartment, his endowment, which almost exceeds beef, has been abundantly demonstrated.? 'ore.sf and Stream. Frkncit Funkrals.?The law on religiis and civil funerals, which has just been lally voted by the French senate, provides tat the last wishes of every individual as * what ceremonies shall or shall not be used hen his or her body is laid to rest shall be illy respected. If the intentions of the iceased are disputed, the decision rests ith the judge de paix, from whom an ap?al lies to a higher court, and this judgent is final. The last will or other writn testimony shall be the only admissible ddence, and both courts must decide withi twenty-four hours. The penal sanctions ' the laws are very stringent; any minisr of religion who disobeys the order cf a mrt is lianle to a year's imprisonment for ... ti..on > w 1 +! ?.? f/ir + lm unr'rmfl LIT limi V/llt'Ii.tc iliui tvy jivu ivi mv ul it is presumed that those who unlawlly withhold religious rites will be visited it'll the same penalties. Civil?that is, jn-religious?funerals have of late great' increased in Paris. In April, 1881, the ?rcentage was seventeen; in April, 1882, was twenty-one, and last February, it id risen to twenty-four.?Pall Mall (lath'. The Sorm.?1Thirty years ago the total due of the Southern' crops of cotton, toicco, rice, hay, hemp and sugar-cane was 38,605,728. The census report of 1880 lows the Southern farm products were, in le last census year, valued at $760,000,000, le-third of which was the value ofthecot?n product, which remains the great staple 'the South, whose standing in the markets 'the world has not been affected by the nyfnml Wpst, Indian, the Brazilian and the gyptian cultivation, instead of sending 1 the cotton to New England and Old ngland, the South to-day is looming up as ie seat of a great cotton manufacturing inrest, so that the cheaper or coarse grades * cotton cloth are readily made for home msumption, and are competing with the ew England mills successfully. ? ? -? ferT The space now covered by the Lake of ichiquin, Ireland, is reported in former lys to have been a populous and llourishig city; but, for some dreadful and unab>lved crime, tradition says, it was buried sneath the deep waters. The "dark spir" of its king still resides in one of the dark iverns which border the lake, and once ev:y seven years at midnight he issues forth, lounted on his white charger, and makes ie complete circuit of tin; lake, a perforuince he is to continue till the silver hoofs F his steed are worn out, when the curse ill be removed and the city reappear once lore in all its bygone condition. Thepeasltry aftirm that even now, on a calm night, ie may clearly see the towers and spires learning through the clear water. jiSj"- A reflective mind is not a llower that rows wild, or comes up of its own accord, he difficulty is indeed greater than many, ho mistake quick recollection for thought, re disposed to admit; but how much less um it would be, had we not been burn id bred in a Christian land, few of us are ifficiently aware. Truly may we, and lankfully ought we, to exclaim with the salmist: "The entrance of thy word iveth light; it giveth understanding to ie si in pie." ? ('ohrhh/c. | IpsMllaitMUS Reading, jjj A NEW ENGLAND TRAGEPY. ' 5 THE STRANGE AND TERRIBLE FATE OF | i, ROSE AMBLER. | Jj Connecticut is becoming noted for mvste- 0 rious tragedies of which young women have C( been the victims. The Mary Stannard and j t] Jennie Cramer cases are instances fresh in I r( the public mind. But the fate of Itose Clark tl Ambler, who met her strange and awful sj death a little more than two weeks ago at 0 Stratford, Conn., bids fair to engross a larger p share of public interest and curiosity than either the Stannard or the Cramer case. M I. si A cosy cottage about a mile northwest of J* the New York and New Haven Railroad j; bridge across the Housatonic River was the f! home of Rose Clark Ambler. Capt. Nathan [ Clark, her father, has lived hereabout three " years. He is the father of nine children, r The girls are remarkable for their beauty, " and the boys are sober, industrious and re- r. spectable. The children received a com- . I mon school education. The girls were neat * and tidy in dress and lady-like in deportnient. They were good house-keepers, nat- J unilly industrious, and not given to gad- j ding. One of them is employed in the Strat- j ford postoffiec, over a mile and a half from ri home. The father is a fisherman. He owns a smack and he usually cruises off Montauk ^ Point and up Vineyard Sound. He is a f clever, and hard-working man, and is high- ily esteemed by his neighbors. * Hose grew up a beautiful girl. She had % blue eyes, faultless features, a delicate complexion, and dark brown hair. Her voice ' was musical and her manners were very en- J] gaging. Over four years ago she married " Norman Ambler. When he married Itose he was a happy-go-lucky fellow, given to v occasional sprees, but with neither the tastes " nor the inclinations of a silent drinker, j Sturdy and well-knit, he boasted of his nhvsical nrowess. and contracted associa- ? tions that were injurious to him. lie fre- 'j quented the saloon of a prize fighter in Bridgeport, and seemed to have pugilistic r, aspirations. He was neither ill favored nor ' had he a bad disposition, but he was weak and easily influenced by his associates. L Such was the man who married Rose. They lived in a large white house about half way between the Stratford depot and Rose's home. Norman raised vegetables, which ri were marketed at Bridgeport and adjacent r< cities by William Lewis. Lewis was a good r< salesman. He had a convivial disposition f and drank freely, but withal saved money. ti He lived with Norman and Rose. The r< husband was not particularly attentive to v his wife. Lewis split wood, brought water, ri and did odd chores about the house in Nor- f man's absence. For months the wife seem- y ed devoted to her husband. Then a daugh- n tor u*si? hnrn. Tts birth had no nerecotible u effect on the father. He roystered around h as usual, leaving Lewis to do the chores. 2 ()ccasionally Lewis rode out with Mrs. Am- s] bier. The neighbors began to talk, and fl Norman's jealou: * arose. A quarrel be- (j tween the two men ensued. Lewis left the a house, threw up his situation, and went to f( his mother's residence, in what is known as s, the Lisle Curtis mansion. Not long after- a ward Rose left her husband's house and re- a turned to her father. She left her baby j< with Norman's mother, and it is said that ti from that day to this she has never visited p it, and apparently has not taken the least y interest in its welfare. She went to work e] in Warner's corset factory, at Bridgeport, 1 returning home every night. Stratford de- H< pot was over a mile and a half from her fa- y ther's house. She usually covered the dis- t< tance in forty minutes. n Despite his dissipated habits Norman seems to have tenderly loved his wife. lie hated Lewis and accused him of being the author of all his misfortunes. Instead of " being sobered by the desertion of his wife, ~ his dissipation increased. One day he was 'J surprised by Constable Dufour, who served p upon him a summons to answer the petition 1 of his wife for a divorce on the ground of a brutal treatment. He was infuriated, say- 1 ing that Lewis was at the bottom of the whole business, and that Lewis's money was being used in tho effort to obtain the " divorce. He swore that whatever happen- u ed Lewis should never marry her. He }' made no answer to the summons, and in 11 due time the divorce was granted and Rose was again a free woman. Norman (.> went from bad to worse. He was left alone 11 with his little daughter and his widowed (?, mother. J lis sprees were protracted, and > they gave his mother much sorrow. 11 A year ago Constable Dufour was called X from his bed by Normans brother, who ' said: "Norman, wants you right away." j3 Dufour went to the house and asked Nor- I( man's mother whether he was in. Nor- 11 man shouted: "Here I am in the bedroom." At first the constable thought that he had the delirium tremens. "What's the " the matter with you?" he asked. [\ "I want you to arrest me and put me in the State prison," he replied. "I ain't safe to be around here. J've been robbing my mother." Constable Dufour told him that he had no ' power to arrest him without a warrant, and that a warrant could not be obtained J' without a complaint. The mother refused to }' ask for one, saying that she didn't want to ! disgrace the family. Norman urged the l) constable to take him out of the village, ^ and 31r. Dufour finally hitched his horse to ^ a wagon and drove him to Trumbull ( Church, ten miles from Stratford. On the *1 way Norman repeatedly asserted that it ^ would be unsafe for Lewis and himself to '] remain in the same township with Hose. At Trumbull Church, Dufour placed him jon the cars. From that day to this Norman * Ambler has never been seen in Stratford. tl ; tr n. S Clapboard Hill is an elevation in Strat- a ford, nearly half a mile north of the rail- tl road depot. The Lisle Curtis mansion u stands on this hill at the junction of four v roads. It is here that William Lewis r lived after his quarrel with Ambler. He a worked for Charles L'cck, a niarKet gara- r: ener of Stratford. Peck gave him S20 a ti week to drive a market wagon from Strat- J ford to Birmingham, a large manufacturing a village ten miles away. Lewis is a good tl salesman, and he fairly earned his money, b He arose between 2 and :) o'clock every ^ morning, walked down to Peck's house, e three-quarters of a mile away, harnessed h his team, and drove to Birmingham, where ' / he usually arrived about f>. A.M. llere-| turned to Stratford between 10 and 11 I f< o'clock in the morning. | y From the day that she left her husband's | p house Hose Ambler seemed infatuated with j t, Lewis. After her divorce was granted she j p openly visited him at the Lisle Curtis man-1 ? sion. Tt was fully two miles from her! Si father's house. The visits were usually j e paid in the evening, ltose returning home I c after dark. Lewis never accompanied her j on her return. He says she protested g against his doing so, because he had to | ti arise so early in the morning that he need-1 <r ed all the sleep he could get. They were j y engaged to be married. Lewis had saved a j f< few hundred dollars, and the wedding was ! n to take place as soon as he could build and s furnish a small house near the Lisle Curtis c mansion. | 1; On Sunday, September 2, llose visited 11 Lewis for the last time. She arrived at the j a eross-roads after sundown. J ler lover greet-! h ed her at his mother's gate. The sky was ! i< overcast, and there were indications of a v storm. Lewis's unfinished house was in j f j plain sight, it was to be finished late in a i October, and the conversation turned on v l what was necessary to furnish it. Hose | rl agreed to make out a list of the furniture j a and crockery that was needed. It was: v !> o'clock before she started homeward. The ' h sky was as black as ink, and it was so dark j a that you could hardly see your hand before j b your face. Lewis says be urged her to al- j v low him to accompany her, but she insisted s ongoing alone, saying, that she was not Mi fraid, and that she did not want to rob r: im of his sleep. She turned into the air- i ne turnpike to Milford, and her lover lost i er form in the darkness. Ife never again 1 iw her alive. 1 For a quarter of a mile the air-line turn- 1 ike has a gentle descent. There is hut one ' ouse on the way, an unpainted, gloomy- t Hiking mansion on a high bank on the left 1 f the road. The road itself is a simple auntry turnpike, fringed with dusty ferns, listles, brambles, milkweed and golden t ad. At the forks of the road, at the foot of . fie hill, Rose turned to her right over a u liort cross-road and entered the main street " f Stratford. From the air-line turnpike ,, a her father's house there are fifty dwell- J lgs. The u^ain street is two hundred feet j ride. Wide grass plots stretch on either , ide, shaded by monstrous elms and many?afed maples. The sidewalks are varied, ccording to the whims of the owners of the , esidences along the route. In some places tiere are flag-stones and in others boards, t ut for the most part the only walk is a flinty + ' * J " rr* 1 i. _ !i I atli worn tnrougn tne luri. mere nau eon no rain for weeks, and while the road r ,*as dusty the path was unusually hard. [ 'lie night was rendered more dark, if pos- l_ ible, by the shade of the leafy elms and ma- *s les, and more gloomy by the chirping of 'j he katydids in their branches. The only r ght upon the woman's path was the feeble ight reflected from the windows of the cot- . iges embowered along the road. Most of j hem are set well back, with turfy front c ards. Half way to her father's house Main street , )rks, forming a long turf triangle known as . 'aradise Green. A little school house quats on this green, and a belfried church > ices the base of the triangle. Rose's route r ly by the lower, or Ravenstream road. It ' 4 hardly as broad as Main street, and its - ? * u- 1 1 1 .wettings are more tieepiy tmiuuweruu, ami j tore scattered. Corn fields and meadows atervene, but the turf walk is still shaded y overhanging elms and bushy maples, j ilong this road Rose walked until within ailing distance of her lather's house. Her irmer husband was then in his bed twenty tiles from Stratford. Her father was scud- , ing the waters of Vineyard Sound, and her ( totiier had gone to sleep, leaving a door un- i istened for the entrance of her daughter, onvinced that she would return home safe j nd sound, as she had done so many times . efore. She never returned alive. j III. ( Preston II. Jlodges lives within seventy J ods of the residence of Rose Ambler's pa- ' ents. His house is on the south side of the r>ad. Rose's home is on the north side, wo hundred feet or more beyond the resi- j ence of Elbert O. Curtis. Mr. Hodges is a stired gentleman, own ing a beautiful farm, ath trout ponds, shrubbery, conservatoies and other indications of wealth. His ' aro married daughters, Mrs. Isbell and ^ Irs. Mary Merrill, are spending tnesum- 1 icr with him. Mrs. Merrill's husband is * ,'ith her. He suffers from palpitation of the l' eart. On the night of Sunday, September i; , the family retired about 10 o'clock. A 1 mart shower was falling, and there were 11 ashes of lightning in the black sky. Alter * ozing for some time Mr. Merrill was J wakened by a shrill scream. He took it * )r the screech of an owl, but it startled him 11 much that it set his heart to beating. He *' rose and turned up the light. His wife J woke and asked what was the matter. "It j 5 bad enough," he said, "to have a toss and 1 jmble for hours to catch a nap, without 1 aving these screech owls awake you when ou are asleep." Mrs. Merrill looked at the J lock to see how long her husband had slept. * t was twenty-five minutes of 12. The j jream was not repeated. It was heard by t Irs. Isbell and by Mr. Hodges, who also ( iok it for the screeching of an owl. In the lorning they changed their minds. ( iv. ; Charles Mason is a sun-browned farmer's ( oy who works for Preston H. Hodges. On 1 londay morning, a week ago, he awoke t efore daylight, got his breakfast, did the I bores, and drove the cows to pasture. i 'lie pasture lot is an open meadow, as flat * s a window pane, adjoining the front yard. * i low stone wall bars it from the street, j 'harles turned the cattle into the street i om the barnyard, and was following them * 3 the pasture when lie met Will Huberts nd Preston Ospoll driving: cows in an oposite direction. The herds went to hookng each other, and gave the boys some rouble. Charles, however, managed to pen the red gate, and turn Ilodges's cows 11 to the pasture, while Will planted his lbows on the low wall and waited for him. Vhen Charles returned he leaned on the wall t the side of the smaller hoys, and they bean to chat about the cow light. Suddenly Vill pointed a littleio his left and whisnerd, "Oh, Charley, look at the man." Charis turned and whispered back, "It ain't a mil. It's a woman." At firstthey thought he was asleep." It was a natural position. She laid on the broad of her back, with er hands under her hips and her bonnet n the hack of her head." Charles says: Her dress was kinder drawn up around er waist, and her feet were about two iet apart." lie saw nothing unusual ii the arrangement of her underclothing, 'here were no marks of a struggle. To se the boys' words, "The grass stood up ist as straight around her as in any other art of the meadow." Her closed parasol ly at her side, and her mouth seemed to e stuffed with cotton. Seeing that she ,-as dead, the boys hurried away. Near 1 Ir. Hodges' front gate they met Klbert (). < 'urtis and Anson Dart, and told them that I.ii'.w n /lnnrl iipnninn rm tlin nthor uwlo I . UV1C HilJl n UVttU HVU1U11 W?? vnv x/w.x-a -W I T f the wall. Curtis asked Charles whether s o knew the woman. lie replied that he ?. idn't. When they approached the spot j 'urtis jumped over the wall and looked at < he body. The soil is coarse-grained, and i he heat of the sun had thinned out the t rass near the wall, making the grains as t and dry as the grains of earth in < n ant-hill. Charles Mason is confident j j hat he saw no footprints near the body ! t ntil Curtis was over the wall. The dead L Ionian lay parallel to the wall, with just ( [?om enough to walk between the body J j. nd the wall. Her parasol was wet with j | ain drops. Curtis thoughtlessly left his racks in the loose soil and said, "Why, i mson, isn't it Rose Clark ?" Anson made i ( similar examination, and they decided t hat it was the corpse of Rose Clark Am- j > ler. When Mr. Merrill, Mrs. Ishell and < Ir. Hodges heard the news they siniultan-; | ously said: "It was no owl that we heard i ist night. It was the death cry of ltose t inibler." t The body was found-about two hundred s et from the line fence of Hodges' door 1 ard. It was in the eastern partition of the j n asture lot. It could have been seen from j 1 no WinilOWS Ol iiouges IIIIU.IU, ur iiuni <iuv i art of cither of the meadow lots. The; 1 noilth was covered with froth caused by j s translation. The froth had been mistak- c n for cotton by the boys who first saw the 1 orpse. i The stone wall is shaded by a row of half- 1 rown sugar maples, which separate the \ nrfwalk from the street. A red double j i ate stands half way down toward Hodges' 1 ard, but it had evidently not been opened, I s ir the copper wire holding it together had ; a ot been disturbed. The turf walk at the j t ide of the wall was as hard as adamant. It 1 oukl show no signs of a struggle. The on- s V sign of a struggle was on the body. 11 'here were finger prints on the throat, and t n earring was missing. Curtis says that j s e found it in her hat. The woman wasev-1 lently choked to death on the hard turf t /alk beneath the maples, and her body was a hrown over the wall. Bruises on her hips t nd back indicate that she was bent back- t /ard over the wall while being choked, f 'lie theory that she was killed elsewhere ] nd that the body was brought to the spot I /here it was found is nonsensical. Not a 1 undred feet from that spot stood a thick 1: rborvitie hedge. The body might have g een crowded between the hedge and the g /all and not found for days. On the other ide of the road was an unfrequented field 1 lied with brambles and with boulders, i I ho corpse might have been niuaen there s vithout fear of discovery until long after \ jutrefaetion had set in. It might also have i >een concealed under one of the plank drain \ >ridges so common on country roads. The a dace of its discovery proves the crime to . lave been unpremeditated, and indicates 1 hat it was committed by a person unfa- t niliar with the surroundings. ( V. i For more than a week, amid the most in- i .en.se popular excitement, the officers of the j aw and a cloud of detectives have been ( eeking for clues to the murderer, but so far ? vith small results. The only thing so far \ ichieved has been to eliminate from the case he suspicions directed against Norman Am)ler, the dead woman's divorced husband. Hie only facts really known are those print- >d above. Rose Ambler left Lewis at 9 'clock on Sunday night. Iler body was bund in the meadow at 7 o'clock next mor >irwr A 11 flio rnut. cnrw'iilntimi. The flo- ! ectives have settled down to the belief that . he crime was either done by William Lews, the woman's lover, by an eccentric stran- . jer, whose name is not yet published, but s igainst whom there is some apparently ' strong circumstantial evidence, or else by < mine wandering tramp. The case against * Lewis is, so far as actual facts go, very weak, rhe main argument against Lewis is that he ^ lid not want to marry a divorced woman, < md nobody can give any good reason why le should have come to* this conclusion on J ?o late a day. Her divorce from her former . msband was procured on his account?at j lis instigation, and, it is asserted, was paid or in part, at least, with his money. It j ,vas procured with the understanding that ie was to marry her at some future time, md the wedding was soon to have taken r >lace. In anticipation of it Lewis was build- i ng a house in which to live, something that t ie would hardly have started had he been n doubt as to whether he would keep his * promise to the woman who had given up me home at his request and upon his assuthnt lio M-nnlrl nrnvido nor W'itli an )ther. , Capt. Clark, Rose's father, sailed into [iridgeport harbor Sunday afternoon in his , ishing smack, the Grace Darling. Horace ' iVakelee, a Stratford man, told him the ' lews before he left his boat, and when he j leard it he looked vacantly at Wakelee for m instant and murmured: "My God, my c [iose murdered," and then he fell to the j leek in a faint. Upon recovering conscious- j less he left his boat and hastened to his r lome. _ i COUNT 1)E CHAM BOND'S BIItTH. ) Ml AX A TIC CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS FATH- ( Elt'S ASSASSINATION. t Although the Count de Chambord, with f he facts of whose recent death our readers ire familiar, was accepted by the whole of J he Royalist party in France as the head of ^ lis house, his legitimacy, and, so to say, his * luthenticity had often been disputed. The " tuthor of a book published about a year ago j, inderthetitle of "Les Secretsdes Bourbon," * md noticed at the time in these columns, ought to prove that the union contracted in Bngland by the Duke de Berri, father of the ; Jount de Chanibord, with the daughter of : in Knglish clergyman, was nothing less than i lawful marriage ; whence it would follow hat the Duke's subsequent marriage with J he Neapolitan Princess who became the aecnowledged Duchess de Berri was invalid, md the children born of that marriage, in- } luding the Count deChambord, illegitimate, rhe French law courts, however, decided J hat the marriage said to have been made in England was not a legal union, and rejected t /tloimcntif H\T t.VVft K IICA IWIU lilW VlCVlllin i^/UV AV* KAVAV4 i/j V..V v.. v laughters born of that union. What has been called the "authenticity" if the Count de Chambord was denied on ,'ery different grounds. The Duke de Berri j vas assassinated at the entrance to the old ; )pera house in the Hue Richelieu on the 3th of February, 1820; and it was not until ( he 20th of September that the Duchess gave . )irth to the child whom Victor Ilugo, Lamirtine, and the Royalist poets of the period j saluted as "L'Enfant du Miracle." It was iuggested at the time, in an English news- * niper that the so-called Prince, far from beng a miraculous child, was simply a suppo- , sitious one; and malicious persons attrib- ! ited this suggestion to Louis Philippe, Duke >f Orleans, who already in 1820 nourished lopes of ascending the throne. The Duke ' >f Orleans disavowed the letter in which ;he suggestion was made. Rut it wasturned ' o account in 1830, when, during the revoluion of that year, it was reproduced and >osted in the form of a handbill, on the walls . if Paris. Charles X had abdicated in favor J >f his little grandson, at that time scarcely en years of age; and it was to the interest >f the Duke of Orleans and his supporters hat the reputed heir of the French kings in lie direct line, should be proved not to beong to the House of Bourbon at all. The | lienublicans of those days were as ready as ' lie* Orleanists to believe that the alleged ;hild of the Duke de Herri, born seven nonths after his father's death, was in redity the son of another ; and the extreme Republican party of the red shade must i lave felt that the assassin Louvel had missed ' lis aim if in killing the Duke de Berri he ; lad not cut off the succession in the direct j ine. It was for this that Louvel had struck , he blow when, surjirising the Duke on the ; steps of the Opera 1 louse, he seized him and * iressed him to himself with such force that ' he six-inch dagger with which he stabbed lis victim indicted a wound nine inches in ; lepth. The circumstances of the Duke's murder l ,vere very dramatic?not only by their the- j itrieal surroundings (for the performance j .till went on while the Duke was expiring g n the manager's private apartments), but j ilso by the striking manner in which his vhole life, with his double marriage and his wo families, was concentrated in the last ew hours of his existence. The opera or j iperetta of the evening was at an end, and a t xirtion of the ballet had been played, when j he Duke accompanied the Duchess to her t arriage, intending to return to his box in t irder to see the remainder of the perform- t nice. Then it was that the assassin grap- j iled with him and pierced him to the heart. ( fhe Duke wasearried to the director's room, ?. ind, in accordance with the practice of the ( lay, was at once bled in both arms. The in- ( ornal hemorrhage was still so great that it t vas thought necessary to widen the orifice j )f the wound ; and the operation is said to ? uive afforded the patient some temporary elief. By this time the Count d'Artois af- j erward Charles X) and the Duke and Duch'ss of Angouleme had arrived. "There," ays a chronicler of the scene, "lay the un- r nippy Prince on a bed hastily arranged and s ilready soaked with blood ; surrounded by s lis father, brother, sister and wife, whose \ loignant anguish was from time to time re- I ieved by some faint ray of hope, destined r 0011 to be dispelled. When Dupuytren, ac- 1 ompanied by four of his most eminent col- a eagues, arrived, it was thought for a mo- t nent that the Duke might yet be saved, r lut it soon became evident that the ease g vas hopeless. The Duke's daughter had c iow been brou flit to him, and, after em- j (racing her several times, he ex pressed a de- t ire to see the King1 (Louis X\ III). Then g irrived two other daughters, the children of he marriage, formal or informal, that he lad contracted in England. The Duchess, p eeing them now for the first time, received f hem with the greatest kindness, and said to ? hem, 'Soon you will have no father, and I p hall have three daughters.' " i: In a neighboring room the assassin was j. leing interrogated by the Ministers Decaze t nd Pasquier, with the bloody dagger on l he table before them ; while on the stage r he ballet of "Don Quixote" was being per- ji ormed in the presence of an enthusiastic mblic. In the course of the night the Cing arrived, and his nephew expired in 1< lis urns at half-past 0 the next morning, b legging that his murderer might be for- r ;iven, and entreating the Duchess not to a ;i ve way to tlespai r. a The theatre on whose steps the crime had b teen committed was now demolished, and 11 t is said that the Archbishop of Paris ex- q icteu a promise mat it snouiu ue su ucaiv vith when he consented to carry into the irofane building the holy sacrament, which vas in fact administered to the dying Prince it the hands of the Archbishop himself. Hie other theatres were not pulled down, mtthey were shut up for ten days; aud here was general mourning in France, not inly because a Prince of the blood had been nurdered, but also because the direct line if succession had to all appearances been irought to an end. It was not until more ban seven months after the tragic scene at ipera that the Prince who was to have laved France, the "Enfantdu Miracle," was lorn. THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH. 4 TRUTHFUL TRIBUTE TO THEIR VIRTUES IX WAR AND PEACE. Whenever the demagogue of Northern politics grows weary of kuklux in the South, le assails Southern women. He claims that :hey were enthusiastic over secession, en:ouraged rebellion, and that they still hate ;he "Yankee" witn a bitterness almost personally dangerous. The first part of the ;harge is true?the latter is an outrageous slander. Modern history cannot name a bVar in which the wives and mothers and sisters and daughters were more enthusias;ic and self sacrificing. To the men of the South the war was the solution of a political problem. To the women it seemed an atempt of the North to conquer and desolate :he country. They firmly and honestly bcieved that the South liad long been oppressed, and that the war was to further ibridge rightsand liberties. Believing thus t may be safely asserted that nineteen out >f every twenty women in the South were rrojans in their courage, Spartans in their brtitude and Romans in their faith and selfsacrifice. Husbands and fathers and brothers were jnade ready for war and given a vomau's blessing, and even had the Confederate conscription act been lessstringent, the ible-bodied man who shirked military service could not have lived at home for the aunts of the women. History will never detail the self-sacrifice ind heroic courage of the Southern women. S'o matter as to the right or wrong of the eause?they believed it was right. The plow fell upon the family housenoid early md with full force. In Virginia seven out )f ten families were without men folks at lome within three months from the first >attle. Father and sons went together, rhe wife and mother gave all she had, and hen turned to face further anxieties. There vere thousandsof women in the Old Dominon who had never laced their shoes or lombed their hair. The slave was at hand a nkntr nnrl 'Pkoeo U'APPPon fkoi * \J UUCJ CVCiJ tlVU* X UV-Ot HUlliVllOVUb biiVii lusbands and sons to the front and then heed the question of food supply. In many uses the slaves ran. away. \\ hen this oe:urred the women went into the field and >ut in such crops as they could. When the ilaves remained the mistress was forced to ict as her own manager and overseer and ussume all responsibility. There are plenty )f Federal troopers still living who found educated and cultured Southern women yielding hoes and holding plows in the corn ields within six months of the opening of he war. It was the Southern women more than the irovost marshals who checked desertion and nade the offense odious. The Confederate vho left the front without leave found no velcome outside of his own family. He vho came home by authority, and with a vound to attest his bravery in action, was a lero until duty compelled his return. No man ever saw a night so wild that a southern woman would not face it to carry lews to Confederatesoldiers. Every woman vas a scout and a spy. If the mother could lot go the daughter was sent. If there was 10 daughter, a dispatch or message was hur ied oft' by a negro, or a signal was made, fliey came so as to accurately estimate the strength of marching columns, to identily ine make of gun from another in the batteres, and where the scouts and spies could lot go the women could. It was the women vho saved Mosby again and again. It was ?I- ~ A-1-1 f < 1 T 1?A i woman who ioiu vjontrrai jiuthsou tut: caict strength of the Federal force at Front [loyal, before he fell upon it in carrying out lis Valley campaign. It was a woman who ;old Early just how Sheridan's army was listributed at Cedar Creek, and there was scarcely a battle 011 Virginia's soil with vhich women did not have something to do is the bearers of information. Once enlistnl in the cause they did not know what desjair was. They sent their bedding to the lospitals, their provisions to the army, and jieir jewelry to a buyer of Confederate arms n Europe. When the Confederate government could not furnish rations the Confederate women did. I have asked hundreds of Confederate solliers how they made a start after the war, md in nearly every instance the answer bejan with: "Well, my wife, you know?" His wife had been the power to brace him lp for the new start in life. The home was 11 ashes, the farm grown up with briars, md the country over run with outlaws, but :he wife's words of hope and encouragement set the returned soldier to work. With any +v?n clanfli u'anlrl liov'a JUICI U1 nuiurii IIIC UUUUI ni/um 1IUTV. ieen built up by the inch instead of by the oot. As they were enthusiasts in war, so ilso, are they heroines in peace. In the real southern woman's heart there is no hatred >f Northerners. There is not even a dis:rust or suspicion. In her parlor may hang portraits through which Sherman's men :hrust bayonets, but her pleasantest letters ire mailed to and received from friends in :he North. The war as a war is buried and orgotten, or if bitter memories force themselves to the surface, there is no heart-burnng for vengeance.?M Quad, in Detroit Free Press. A bushel of corn weighing fifty-six sounds will yield between twenty-eight and hirty pounds of glucose or grape sugar, and n adulterating sugar from eighteen to twen:y percent, of the grape sugar is generally lsed. In Europe potatoes are generally lsed for the manufacture of glucose, and the nanufacturers find larger profits than from orn. A plant called manioc, a native of South and Central America, is said to proluce fifty-six pounds of glucose to the bush?1. As this plant yields over .300 bushels to he acre, it is not improbable that manioc nay be the "sugarcane" of the future. The so-called Brazilian arrow-root and tapioca >f commerce are made from the cassava or 1 i. I1UU1UC puiin. The grave, of Mary Washington, the nother of George Washington, is near the uburbs of Fredericksburg, Va. It has been hamefully defaced by the hands of the randals. Its sides have been marred by rnllets and the pretty, smooth face, of the nonument, peppered by the shot of thoughtess sportsmen. No railing or enclosure of my sort protects the last resting-place of his great and good woman. The monunent was undertaken in 1830 by a patriotic ;entleman of Fredericksburg, who had it ompleted, with the exception of the large >yramidal shaft, which is to-day half imtedded in the ground a few yards from the ;rave. The press is raising a storm over the >roffered permission of the Vicar ofStratord-upou-Avon to allow the exhumation of ihakspeare's remains for the purpose of corntaring the skull with the different accepted nasks of the poet. With unanimity the paters denounce the Vicar's action as an inended outrage upon mankind. Sir Wiliam Harcourt, the home secretary, has extressed a determination to prevent the proacted desecration. S&" It is impossible for a man to be careess in business affairs, or unmindful of his usiness obligations, without being weak or otten in his personal character. Show me man who never pays his notes when they re due, and who snuns the payment of his ills when it is possible, and I shall see a nan whose moral character is, heyond all uestion, bad.?Dr. Holland.