Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 15, 1883, Image 1
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lewis m. wrist, proprietor, j 5.11 Jfiirtptnbtnt Jfkmilg fUfospaptr: ^"or Ijje promotion of % ^political, Soriai, ^gritnltaral anb Comnurtial Jnftrtsfs of % jsonfjj. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance.
VOL. 39. . YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1883. NO. 46.
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Selected foettg.
WE CAN MAKE HOME HAPPY.
' Though we may not change the cottage
For a mansion tall and grand,
Or exchange a little grass plot
For a boundless stretch of land,
Yet there's something brighter, nearer,
Than the wealth we'd thus command.
Though we have no means to purchase
Costly pictures, rich and rare;
, Though we have no silken hangings
t ' For the walls so cold and bare,
We can hang them over with garlands,
For flowers bloom everywhere.
We can always make home cheerful
k If the right course we begin;
? We can make the inmates happy
And their truest blessings win:
It will make the small room'brighter
If we let the sunshine in.
Iftc
IN A CHINA PITCHER.'
The hist beams of the setting sun were
slanting through the light green foliage
which bordered a grassy country lane.
There was the -cent of the sea in the breeze,
and the distant murmur of waves mingled
with the good-night music of the birds.
The hay-makers were still busy in the field
in spite of the lateness of the hour, for the
clouds promised rain for to-morrow, and
the airiest line of mist was wavering along
the horizon. .
A group of women whose elderly faces
were deeply shaded by sun-bonnets, were
chattering on the steps of a weather-beaten
old farmhouse, which stood at the entrance
of the lane, and a handsome, sun-burned
young sailor stood leaning over the gate a
few rods away.
"Phebe's gone back to the pastur' ter
i drive home the cows. The men thought
the clouds looked like a spell o' weather, so
they went back to the hay field after supper,
'n'seein' as she didn't expect you back from
the Port ter night, she said she'd just as
lives go as not," said one of the women
moo no olniv thp nupp of the
WHUBC luuguu rtiw 1K> oivn I' ...
slowest country Sunday.
"I'll go and meet her, I guess," said the
voung man, after a moment's hesitation.
"I didn't expect to get home to-night, but
Larkin, the man I went to see, was right on
the spot, so I got through with ray business
early."
He had only advanced a few steps down
the path when a light laugh resounded
from the shadows of the lane. Then a
sober-minded procession of cows emerged
, into sight?sober-minded though their horns
were enwreathed with white clematis in
high holiday fashion, and the pretty girl
who stepped behind them, accompanied by
an evidently enamored swain, was decorated
like a May queen with wild pink azalias.
It was a pretty picture, like one from the
canvas of Watteau, filled with glowing
color, graceful rusticity, and suggestive
manner, but it was evidently by no means
pleasing to the eyes of the young sailor,
lib-Qo fluinrlar (>1011(1
W11U3C ittCC UailVCll^VA uxvv IV iituuvtv*
and who stood at the gate, his head turned
toward the road, as if he meditated an immediate
flight in that direction.
"Why, Joe, is that you? I thought you
were going to stay at the Port all night,"
called the girl as soon as she caught sight of
y him over the heads of some tall sun-flowers.
"Evidently," he murmured angrily under
his breath.
"Oh dear, how many breaks 'n disturb?
ances there always is to courtin'," sighed
oneof the women on the doorsteps. "Now
Joe is a goin' ter git kinky jest because the
schoolmaster's caught up with Phebe somewheres
on the way. 'X when she sees he's
mad about it, she'll jest put on 'n talk putty
'n smile ez ef she never meant ter quit smilin'
in the world at that dretful perlite nuisance,
all ter make him madder yet."
"I don't know what you mean by callin'
Mr. Whitaker a nuisance, Almiry. He's a
goin ter be a minister, 'n b'longs to one of
the fust families in the country. His grandfather
was old Mr. Job Whitaker, a preacher
that wuz thought more of than any one
that wuz ever settled in these parts. He
married me an' Isic in county conferencetime,
'n Sally 'n Jotliam too, 'n was dretful
edifyin at a prayer-meetin' or a funeral, or
anywhere where he riz up ter give counsel,"
said another one of the circle, with considerable
warmth.
"Oh Lor, yes, I remember ole Jotham
well enough, '11 no doubt this grandson o'
his, the schoolmaster, 's a well ineanin'
young man, though he does 'pear to be
tryin' to git another feller's girl away from
him. 'X I never did set no great store by
ministers, nor students from a theological
seminary, 'ceptin' in a spiritual way. They
are too dretful perlite '11 solemn, 'n don't
never look so well as other folks, neither,
kinder stiff 'n ungain' for all their nieetin'
doses, with their faces drawed into sieli a
pucker, 'n their legs lookin' more as ef
they wuz made of unseasoned timber. Jest
look at the difference between his legs 'an
, < Joe's, now. lie's made alter a real parson
cut, but Joe's straight as an arrer, 'n handsome
shaped as a pine tree."
In the meantime the cows had taken their
own way into the bree/y old barn. Phebe's
mother, the Widder Sarmwel, as she was
called in the neighborhood, and her sister,
Almiry, who was an inmate of the household,
arose immediately and went in quest
of iheir milking stools, making their excuses
to the other women who were neighbors,
and Joe, who had been introduced to
Mr. Whitaker and had greeted that gentleman
with an unmistakable glare, uttered a
grulf good-night, and without making the
least explanation, strode away down the
road.
Phebe, forgetting the schoolmaster for a
moment, stood gazing after him in astonishment,
a quick, bright hush deepening the
delicate pink of her cheek, anda fiery spark
lighted either by pride or impatience, darting
from her eyes. Then turning to the
young man beside her with a little startled \
motion of the head, she favored him with
her sweetest smile, and invited him into
the house, where she entertained him with
such unwonted graciousness that he felt
hope awakening in his breast, in spite of
past rebuffs, and the amazing new ring
which she wore upon her first finger. This
ring taken in connection with the reports
concerning the young lady and Joe Trafton,
and his recent return from sea, seemed
grounds for the deepest suspicion, and the
first sight of the glittering ornament had
struck him like a blow when he overtook
her in the lane, whence he had gone to take
i.Aiwivo n\*cininf? wrollr Tnflnn/1 mottorv
<V > V v ? vmup ?? iVAn* luivvvvi^ i
had progressed so favorably between them,
that before her mother and aunt came in '
from milking, he had invited her to drive
over to Eaton Corner, to county conference
with him the next morning, and she had
accepted the invitation without hesitation.
"Where's Joe?" inquired her mother as
she entered the room.
"Oh, he went home," answered Phebe indifferently,
proceeding immediately to make i
some playful remark to Mr. \V hi taker, as J
if Joe were asubject unworthy of even pass-!
ing attention.
"Hum," said Aunt Almiry with an indignant
glance at the schoolmaster. "Kinder
strange that he should go home 'pears to
me," with a stress upon the word he which
caused the gentleman to wince perceptibly,
and Phebe to color with indignation.
Seldom in her whole life had Phebe been
so witty, so conversational, so merry and i
bright "its on that particular evening, but j
seldom if ever Had she been so wretched.
While she laughed and chatted with the
rather bewildered schoolmaster, her mind
was entirely with Joe, who was trying to
forget his indignation by listening to the
gossip at the village store. Por though they
had been playmates when children, and
sweethearts ever since they had left off
high-necked aprons, they had only been betrothed
since the day before yesterday,
when Joe placed a beautiful pearl ring on
iier finger, which he had brought from over
I
j seas. It was very hard to have one's lover
j behave like this in the first flush of youth- 1
i ful romance. Was she to blame because the
schoolmaster overtook her in the lane and i
J walked home with her at twilight ? How ]
rudely ho treated him when they met, i
j scarcely noticing the introduction at all, and '
: fairly glaring at him over his shoulder as he i
strode away. How absurd for him to be so ]
jealous ! But now he might have cause to 1
be jealous in reality. She would go to the
conference meeting with Mr. Whitaker, ]
and wherever else he chose to invite her, 1
until Joe should come to his senses, and 1
make an humble apology. But after she .
went to bed at night and heard the rain 1
pouring on the roof, she devoutly hoped 1
that the storm would continue until to-mor- j
row, so that she might be released from her 1
engagement, and her heart softened consid- 1
erably toward her recreant lover. 1
But morning came with blue skies, fresh '
breezes and sparkling leaves, and at nine 1
o'clock Mr. Whitaker appeared with the
finest team the village could boast, and she |
could do no less than keep her engagement.
Phebe had never looked prettier, but she
had seldom felt so indifferently to personal I
appearance. There were plenty of roses, if J
no smiles and dimnles under the t>ink brim 1
of her bonnet, and inspired by Tier loveli- J
ness, the schoolmaster soared into poetry, 1
and quoted Tennyson as they drove along 1
the green-margined road under the quiver- i
ing elm and maple boughs. Other county i
conference people were jogging in various {
rustic equipages toward Eaton Corner. The 1
deacon with his wife and two daughters, I
their red rural faces framed in lilac ribbons. 1
The parson driving his family in an ancient 1
carryall, with all the solemn importance due 1
the occasion. The doctor's daughter with ?
her lover from the "Port," and Miss Trim,
the village milliner, with an elderly sea '
captain for whom, it was said, she was set- i
ting her cap, a sensation to all the town.
Phebe felt very much borecl by the society 1
of Mr. Whitaker, and went off into a lit of t
absentmindedness in the midst of his poeti- ^
cal flight, coming to her senses with a blush (
and a start, when he bent over and looked f
tenderly in her face at some passage which c
dwelLs with the most delicate enthusiasm i
on the charms of "My love." Just at this t
interesting period, who should appear along |
the road, a witness of the whole scene, but c
Joe Trafton. He returned her embarrassed s
bow with a slight inclination of the head, i
but there was scorn and indifference even '
in the way when he lifted his hat, and poor s
Phebe roue on towards the conference meet- j
ing wishing that the earth would open and i
/?imllAt?T brvw r?4- AV\/-11AOO \irmtob_ I
aWilllUW HCl up. yy uat an uiuiuooj nivivu- *
ed day that was. What a tedious interval *
stretched between the thirdly and fourthly, s
and fifthly and sixthly of the eminentstran- $
ger's morning sermon. How flat and un- c
musical the efforts of the choir. How in- t
sipid even the summer finery,the airy mus- c
lins and new black silks, the flower resplen- t
dent bonnets and delicate tinted sashes t
which tilled the meeting-house. How sick- ^
ening the odor of caraway and clove pinks c
which floated in the close, warm atmos- s
phere. How hateful the dinner at the little,
crowded public house, where, as ill luck t
would have it, nearly all her own towns r
people were congregated. How dreadful 1:
the significant glances directed towards her- t
self and the schoolmaster and the sly chafing i
of Clara Cole, the deacon's younger daugh- i
ter, who Phebe was sure, had #a lurking
fancy for Joe herself, and the dreary gossip
which was circulated in the parlor when 1
dinner was over. How utterly unbearable r
the long winded inisssonary addresses which i
rung on the air of the beautiful summer af- 1
ternoon, and spoiled the song of the breezes t
and the birds. How detestable they drive c
home in the soft purple twilight, with the
schoolmaster's voice in her ear, and his t
eyes trying to say tender things to her own. t
Phebe was absolutely cross, and snubbed j
the poor man so unmercifully that he sub- c
sided into utter sileuce before they reached t
home, and reflected deeply and bitterly on s
the moods of women, which were as impen- t
etrable as the ways of Providence. She \
certainly had encouraged his devotion last t
night and now she expressed more than in- 1,
difference to his society. 1
And in the meantime Joe was as wretch- ?
ed as herself. He had been ashamed after t
.lnr? nf liiw liuhiHrinr fif thp llifrllt. t
UU^ lVHUtUUH) VI I I IO MVIIUIIVM V* hllv
before and was 011 his way to bey Phebe's 1
pardon when he met her driving with the 1
schoolmaster, and saw her blushing and 1
smiling, with his head bent almost into her
face while lie whispered, it was very evi- t
dent, some lover-like compliment, lie 1
made an immediate resolve to leave the t
town, and never look upon her face again, t
He had just purchased the "Snow place," t
a snuer little farm with a pretty house on it !
facing the sea, and she had promised only
two days before to become its mistress be- 1
fore the harvest should be gathered in. How 1
strange it was that she should have cluing- t
ed her mind in so short a space of time, t
He gave up a sailor's life for her sake, t
though he had been most successful, in this
calling and had only just refused a wonder- t
fully advantageous offer to take command rj
of a fine ship which was about to make a j
trip to China. Now he could telegraph at "i
once to Fielding Brothers that he had re- >
considered and would accept the situation 1
after all, and would go to his friend, John t
Wisweli, who had wished very much to i
hire the farm, and tell him that he could i
have it for any term of years, or he would j
sell it on the most liberal terms. But be- 1
fore he reached the telegraph office, which i
was situated at the "Corner," two miles j
distant, he had Income considerable cooler,
lie was beginning to think that a little in- t
terview with Phebe would be advisable j
before taking such desperate measures.
Her behavior was most extraordinary; he
could not imagine what excuses she would j
be able to make for it, but to-morrow night l
he would go to her house and demand an ]
explanation. To-night he had an engage- t
ment with his friend at Pine Hill. It l
would be hard to wait so long in suspense, i
but perhaps it wouldbebettertodosoinany
case, for Joe realized that he was a hot- c
headed fellow, and was aware that his first <
impulses were not alwav to be trusted. ?
The hours dragged themselves away in t
the most wretched mauner, for fate had
?!<mn Iiiin <> no+idiit niinil < Ina run. /
ilUt vgii niiii cv jyuuvuv tiitiivA* v/nv v
ment he blamed Pliel>e entirely, bitterly, i
for the "trouble" which had happened, i
The next moment he heaped all the fault r
upon himself; one moment he was humble
and ready to fall at her feet, the next he t
was proud and taking some new view of ?.
the case, he would half resolve to go away t
without seeing her again, after all. Hut '
the evening of the next day, found him at
her door. * a
It was late when lie returned from Pine (
Ilill, and when he reached the farmhouse,
the new moon was hanging serenely over l
one ot its old red gables. It was a cool, j
clear night, with a strong breeze blowing j
from the sea, and the scent of autumn al- [ t
ready in the air, though it was August!?
weather. The family were not seated upon j t
the doorsteps as on warmer evenings, but i [
lights were burning redly in the best room j f
windows, and it was evident that there was | c
company within. The sound of a masculine j 1
voice giving utterance to a gay peal of i
laughter awoke a terrible suspicion in Joe's : j
mind, and hesitating to rap on the door, he | f
peered into the room through the chinks , t
in the blind. It was a pretty and liome1:1
n ! t
HKC THTCIU; ITillHI^ll U ItKII 11^ ivi/nvM mn/nt ,
but it caused his ruddy cheek to pale like a ; t
woman's, large veins to stand out on his ' (
forehead, and his breath to come in quick I
{rasps as if -he had been running. <
Several neighbors were spending the
evening at the farm-house, and quite a j i
group of women sat in the back-ground j
having a cosy chat over their knitting- t
work. A wicker basket of sweetings was (
placed on the table before them ; a kitten i
! was playing with a ball on the floor, while
i in one corner, cosily apart from the others, :
j sat Phebe and the'shoolinaster, the school- r
master on a low stool at her feet holding a 1
bright-colored skein of worsted which she i
gaily wound from his hand. He looked
adoringly up at her face; she was dimpling .
and smiling under his gaze, and Joe saw ;
with a great pang that she no longer wore
his ring. 1
"Things have gone too far,'.' he thought i
desparinly. "An explanation would be impossible,
now," and turning away he walk- i
2d rapidly down the still, moonlit road.
The next morning he sent the delayed tele- i
?ram to Fielding Brothers, but it was too '
fate, another man had been engaged to ! f
take command of the ship. ' i
Three days passed away. Joe had (lis- 1
posed of his farm, and was now waiting 1
with his trunk packed to hear from another .
firm to which he had applied fora situation. 1
(\t last a favorable answer came, and as he
was to leave home next day, he went over i
to Beacham's Point one morning to say J
*ood-bye to his aunt, Mrs. Trimble, whose '
iiusband was a relative of Phebe's. She 1
was an anxious, but lively soul who was
Dlessed with a large family of children, and 1
>vas continually being visited by "his and (
ler own folks," "his folks," who lived "out t
West," and hers who lived "down East,"
rntil she was, as she frequently declared, l
'Jest about tuckered out." 1
"Well, there, Joe, I am pleased to see (
Tou," said she, "for once, I hain't got no- i
jody but jest my own family ter see to; but
ast week I had sich a raid o' company that c
L had to send fur Phebe ter come 'n' help i
ne fur a day or two, for what's one hired t
jirl with a minister cousin that's jest got
nerried 'n' his wife's sister-in-law ter wait 1
rpon. A ministerexpects extry perliteness,
ind a minister jest merriedis beyond every- \
;hing; 'n' his bride, mercy on us ! T hain't
jot my mouth out of its pucker yit, a tryin' l
:er talk genteel to her. Phebe didn't mind
ler, though she wuz jest the same as coin- ]
non, 'n' spoke 'n' laughed jest ex easy as i
;he would to you or me." i
Joe laughed. "Well, Aunt Hitty, I don't
;ee but what you look pretty smart and rosy (
n spite of your trials," said he. i
"Oh lor, yes! ef I was a dyin' I should i
AAlr ioof OA *?n nrrrnrl In* ViAnlflixr T c'nntD ' n' 1
wv;a jtot ov iugg\A( n nv^viviij a o **
;hat's what sends all his folks 'n' my folks a 1
/isiting me, you see. Lovisy's ser kinder g
lelicate, they say they don't wanter put up 1
it the house, though I never saw the day 1 j
lould do the gadain' that Lovisy kin, 'n'
rane is so pestered with the asthmy, thet a
hey let her alone, entirely. But I don't be- i
jin ter be ser strong ez she is; I should be a 1
:orpse if I should undertake to do the work t
.he gits through with, jest as easy as noth- t
n' at all. I don't want ter be inhospitable, t
n' I do like to hev my folks to come ter i
iee me, but ter hev almost strangers come
est fur convenience, ter be waited on by s
nches, ii's more 'n' I ken stand with any i
cinder patience. But how is it with you, s
loe ? I heard fust that you warn't goin' ter f
;ea agin' but hed bought a farm, 'n' was a (
join' to settle down ter home, 'n' then agin, a
>nly yisterday, I heard that you was goin'
er sail as C'ap'n of some strange brig, rijght
iway. They did say, 'n' I hope t'was true,
hat you 'n' Phebe had struck a bargain. I
ried to make her tell me about it when she J
vas over here 'tother day, but she's as j
:lose-mouthed as ever her father was. They 1
ay she's a goin' with the schoolmaster." 1
"'Twon't do to believe rumors, Aunt Hit- f
v. There's nothing between Phebe and s
ne," saicl lie, trying to speak coolly. "I did
>uy the Snow place. It was for sale a1; a
largain, and I thought I might like to farm
t sometime. I had the money Uncle Danel
left me, you know, and it had to be inrested,
of course."
"Pliebe is a good girl as ever stepped, 'n'
ie'll be a lucky man that get's her, there's
10 mistake," remarked Aunt Hitty, with
mcallfcd for severity of tone, "I feel real
cinder disappointed 'bout you 'n' her. But
here, 'taint no use to talk. This is a world
if sorrer!"
Joe felt like echoing her profound sigh,
lut he smiled instead, and made an effor t to
urn the conversation into another channel.
Vunt Kitty's tongue was extremely voluble
in almost any subject, and once turned in
he right direction, would almost never
top. lie tried her on Deacon Lewis' exravagance
in building his new house, and
vas highly successful. She knew every title
detail of the affair, and dwelt upon it
ong and excitedly. And then Joe thought
le would go out into the field and find Uncle
>ilas, and in this way he escaped a return
o the subject of "Pliebe" until after dinner
ime. As soon as possible after dinner,
laving done his duty toward his nearest *
iving relatives, he proposed taking a quiet 1
eave. *
Returning to the house with his uncle, at 1
he lusty invitation of the dinner horn, he
bund a scene of agitation being enacted in
he kitchen. Tom, an unlucky urchin of
en, had broken the cream pitcher, greatly
o his mother's distress and indignation,
she scolded and lamented by turns. 1
"It's the last milk-nitcher I've got in the <
louse exceptin' my best chany one, that I 1
;eep for company," she lamented. "Ev- l,
>rything goes crash, smash in this house till !
here ain't much of anything left, 'n' it's all j
:lear, sheer carelessness." j
"But I forgot about knockin' against the
able, mother," piped trembling master
Fom, in lively remonstrance against an ob- (
ectional use of the birch which had been *
epeatedly threatened. His remonstrance
vas in vain, however, and before the fatni- t
y gathered around the festive board, a lit- '
;le interview of a more private and thrill- .
ug character took place in the woodshed
letween the unhappy youth and his mater- ,
lal parent, from which she emerged with a
ittle more heated countenance, and lie with J
various marks of past woes upon his small
lerson.
"Now this chany piteher'll be broke be- }
'ore night, see if it hain't," remarked the
inxious matron, placing a sacred, gilt band 1
iflair filled with cream upon the table.
"Now, don't take on so 'bout a milk- (
litcher, Hitty. You couldn't take it no 1
tarder if somebody's head had got smashed. |
I'll tretvou a new one when I ero down to't 1
he Corner, ter night. Jones hez got a new |1
ot o' crockery in," said Uncle Silas, sooth-!(
ngly. ]
"How long will the new one last ?" in- ]
luired the lady despondingly. Hut she J
won recovered her ordinary vivacity and '
food nature, and the meal progressed to the 1
une of family and village gossip. '
Joe was the first to use the "chany" pitch- '
?r, and as he poured the rich cream which *
t contained over the berries, some hard j J
netalic substance clinked against the side, j
md ciuno tumbling into his saucer.
"Lor, what is that in the cream?" exilaimed
his aunt who sat by his side, "it's 1
iomething thet's got in sence we set down J
o the table, for I skimmed the milk myself,
n' jest poured it into the pitcher.
Joe proceeded to investigate. Something i
vhich glittered like gold slione through the i
ream in his spoon. i
"Oh, 1 know, I know," exclaimed the J
ady, excitedly, "it's Phebe's ring. She j .
nust have lost it off when she wiped the j 1
fitcher. I remember I washed the dishes j'
hat day and she wiped 'em for me. Lucy '
Vnn was ironing. How glad she will he.5
er find it again. 1 declare I never saw any-, J
)ody take on so about anything ez she did j
ihmif lnwin' tlmf rimr f-llio nrntnised the '
jhildrnn a quarter of a dollar apiece if they M '
ind it for her, 'n' she actually cried about 5
t, though Phebe ain't a bit childish; '11' j
L never reconed she eared much about j
inery; I kinder think now the school mas-1
:er giv it to her." ,
Joe colored from his bronze temples to j
lie throat, as carefully wiping the precious !
hing with his napkin, he said coolly!
Miough, |
"I'm going to stop at the widow Samuel's 1
>n niv way home, 'n' I'll carry it to her.*' |
"1 wisht you would. Jest let me look at i
t. It's a beauty, haint it?" j
Joe was rather thankful at the time that i
he ring had not yet been marked. He j
ould not have borne his aunt's teasing re-;
narks at that time.
"Well, Joe," his uncle said, as he was '
ibout to take his departure, "you'd orter
stayed with us longer, for it's ho knowin'
vhen we shall see ye agin. Furrin voyages
ire dretful uncertain."
"Dretful," sighed his aunt. "I declare, 1
Joe, 't seems ez if I must see you agin afore 1
ye go." ' i
"But?I am not quite sure that I shall go j
:o sea, after all," said Joe, with embarrass- i
rnent.
"Lordy! I thought you were all packed i
up," exclaimed the lady with a start.
"Well, so I am," said Joe, "but we can I
uever be sure just what'll happen. Here,
Tom," seeking out his recently unfortunate
<mnll cousin, "here's a dollar for you to
remember me by. We always had a regard
for each other, hadn't we, and I shouldn't
tvonder if you have done me a good turn.
\unt, let Tom spend his money just as he
ikes, won't you ?"
"No, indeed, he don't deserve it. He's
rot to pay for the pitcher he broke with it.
P'raps that'll break him of his carelessness,
rhere's no end to the dishes that boy broke
:he last year or two."
"Well, then, here's another dollar for him
o spend for himself. A pitcher in itself
loesn't amount to much, but fate may someimes
be lurking in its depths."
Aunt Hitty stared. Master Tom's surprise
almost equalled his gratification, for
le could not remember that he had ever
exchanged a single word with his grown
up cousin before. '
Joe found Phebe sjtting in the door way
)f her mother's house, looking very sad
* : - a *-u
tnci pensive, one was su uceupieu wiui nci
;houghts that she did not look up, and he
stood by her side before she was aware of
lis presence.
"Phebe," he spoke softly, taking the rinc;
rom his pocket.
"Oh, Joe!" she exclaimed, starting vioently.
"Phebe," said he, taking her hand, "may
[ place this ring on your linger again, or is
t true, what I hear about you and the sehoolnaster?"
"Mention the schoolmaster's name if you
lare," said she with a little show of pettishless,
extending her finger to receive the
ing. Then covering her face with her
lands, she burst into a flood of tears. A
ong explanation followed, which ended as
satisfactorily as possible, and Joe promised
aithfully, never to be jealous of poor little
Mr. Whitaker again.
"I never shall cease to be thankful to that
vagabond of a Tom, or the 'evil spirit which
s in him,' as his mother expressed it, for
ireaking the family milk pither. For if
he china one had not been used on the
able that noon, I should have left home
o-morrow morning not to return for years,
f ever again," said Joe with feeling.
"It was a direct interposition of Fate,"
;aid Phebe, "for that china set is sacred to
ninisterial tea drinkings, and Aunt Hitty
wlemnly declared when 1 wiped it so careully
and placed it 011 the shelves the other
lay, that she would not take it down for a
vhole year!"
SOME OF THE FINE ARTS OF SOCIETY.
If the fine accomplishment of speaking
--,.11 ~ tnnA-Kf in fnrQfir llAUCA
VU11UI UU1C13 >VCIC l-au^iii li! V.YV1J iivuuv
lold, it would become almost a paradisical
and. But, alas! the opposite accomplishnent
prevails. How many heart burnings,
[uarrels and estrangements in families have
trisen from this disposition of speaking evil
>f each other! Each of us lias his faults.
'There is none that doeth good; no, not
>ne," and in the actions of the best of perions
there will be occasional errors which
ithers will perceive, and if they are evil
ninded, will publish; and before they have
lassed through a dozen mouths, they are so
hanged that they are hardly recognizable.
The art of speaking well of others can be
;asily acquired, and it is a good rule to
nake in a household, that the one who critcizes
others unkindly in the familv circle,
>r among friends, shall pay a small tine to
>e used for some good object. The common
ind unchristian practice of talking about
mr relatives' and neighbors' faults is really
aught in the household by parents and
riends, and the children catch the habit
inly too quickly.
Learn to be sociable wherever you go,
md to speak your lightest words in tones
hat are sweet, and with a spirit that is
genial. Think how much pleasure you can
rive to others by a kindly word, or a cheerul
conversation, and reflect how much
unshiue such sociability throws back into
,'our soul!
Who does not feel more cheerful and conented
for receiving a polite bow, and a
ileasant "good morning," with a hearty
hake of the hand? Who does not make
limself happier by these light expressions
if good will? Silence, or stiff, unbending
eserve, is selfish and churlish. The gener>us
and polite man has a pleasant recoglition
and cheerful word foe every one he
neets, and he scatters sunbeams on his
uithwnv thrmifh life, lights the nath of
ithers with smiles, and makes the world
wight to those who are apt to find it cold
in (I forlorn, while what he gives is hut a
ithe of what he receives, as his own heart
s kept fresh and warm by the cheerfulness
u> expends upon others. Life would not
ie half as cheerless and lonely if sociabilty
vere cultivated as a fine art.
The art of living in peace in the family is
greatly promoted by the constant exchanges
>f the little courtesies of life, which are
lever unacceptable and never unimportant.
Shall husbands and wives be less mindful
)f injuring the feelings of each other than
hose of strangers? Should there he leas
fi'ort to maintain sauvity of manner, genleness
of deportment, and courtesy of ex>ression
in the family circle than is expected
of visitors?
it is the neglect of these little courtesies
11 home life which fills the saloons and biliard
rooms with young men. There all is
right, gay and pleasing to the senses; and
soon they are drawn into dissipation, and
inly look upon their homes as hoarding
daces, where the physical* necessities of
mating and sleeping are procured. In early
ife brothers and sisters should be taught
:o be kind, obliging and attentive to each
ither, and learn the suavities of deportment
vhich are so essential to the happiness of
heir own lives, and of those with whom
.hey are connected. Brothers and sisters
luis taught can rarely fail to make pleasmt
homes of their own, where words of
lickering or strife are never heard. Sweet
unites and kindly actions are the small
joins of life, and in the aggregate consist
:he happiness and well-being of the whole
amilv. Where such households become i
ho rule, then peace and prosperity reign.
'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is,
:han stalled ox and hatred therewith."?
Daisy Eyebright, in Country Gentleman.
Ex-SecretaryStanton.?Ex-Detective
n Chief, Wm. P. Good, confirms the statenent
that the unjust hanging of Mrs. ttur-1
att drove Stanton to despair and death. I
[ le says:
The day before the death of Mr. Stanton, i
n the latter part of December, 180!), the >
.vriter was sent for by him. Stanton was a j
vreck?pale, haggard, disappointed, miser- \
ible. He had been confirmed a few days j
lefore as an associate justice of the United '
States Supreme Court. President Grant j
nul not forwarded his commission, and this ;
act gave him a great deal of annoyance, j
tnd made him hitter in his denunciation of
{rant.
The writer believes that Stanton did not
'eeeive his commission before his death.
Mr. Stanton referred again to the hanging
if 31 rs. Surratt, and desired to know the
airpose of the writer in obtaining the paper i
roni Baker. In his broken-down and dejressed
condition he declared that he was j
launted day and night by visions of the unortunate
woman, and that he could not live ;
inder the jiressure he was bearing, and to |
juiet him 1 assured him that no publication
>f facts in the matter would be made during I
lis lifetime, and that if I should die firstthe |
wipers should be destroyed. This tempo arily
quieted him, and on the day folio wng
his death was publicly announced.
fey"' The Chattanooga Time,n makes imjui-;
ies as to what caused the civil war. Ac-!
lording to some historians, adds the Atlann
Constitution, the war grew out of the fact I
hat neither side suspeted the gun was load-j
,'d. Hence the explosion. * I
^listrliancous fhiiding. \\
BENEDICT ARNOLD'S WIFE.
* s
leaves from the life history of ax J
vxiia fry lady.
We catch our first views of this unhappy
lady on a bright May day in 1778, when she lJ
took part in a famous and splendid pageant 1
in Philadelphia. She was then a beautiful [
girl of eighteen?Miss Margaret Shippen?
the dauther of an opulent and ancient Phil- J
adelphia family, and one of the reigning j
belles of that town. Her ancestors were 1
among the iirst settlers of Pennsylvania, }
and her great-grandfather was the first J
Mayor of Philadelphia. In the course of ]
time the family had acquired great posses- 1
sions, and, laying aside the Quaker garb, *
had become members.of the Church of Hug- J
land. During the controversy between the 1
thirteen colonies and the King, which end- ?
ed in the revolutionary war, Edward .Ship- 51
pen, her father, the head of the family, was 1
inclined to the King's side.
It was May 18, 1778. For many months ?
the British army had been quartered in
Philadelphia, commanded by Maj.-Gen. ^
Win. Ilowe. The General bad been super- x
sedcd and about to return to England* The |
officers of the army, a wealthy class who '
had nothing to do, seized the occasion of his j
retirement to amuse themselves by giving <.
a grand festival in his honor, and this was \
the day upon which it was to be held. j
The affair began with a grand regatta c
upon the Delaware Itiver. or, rather, a long \
nrocession of srallevs and barges, filled with j
officers and laHies,"which were rowed slow- ]
ly down the whole length of the city, in an p
avenue formed by the shore crowded with l
spectators, and a line of men-of-war and a
transport ships, gaily dressed with flags and \
streamers. At 4.30 in the afternoon the
barges began to move, the oars keeping g
time to martial music, and when they had (
arrived opposite Market street they all lay ^
upon their oars, while the band played A
"God .Save the King," after which the r
soldiers gave three cheers. Continuing f
their course, the company were conveyed 'A
past the city to where a grand tournament s
was to take place, and it was in this portion .
of the entertainment that Margaret ShipEen
shone. A spacious field, surrounded
y troops, had been prepared for the con- f
test. Upon one side was stationed all the ^
bands of music in the army. There were c
also two pavilions, with benches one above (
another, filled with the most distinguished j
ladies'of the city.
On the front seat of each of these pavilions
were placed seven of the most beautiful ,
young laaies Pennsylvania could boast. j
They dressed in Turkish costume?trousers,
tunic and turbans?and in their turbans g
t.hev wnrp the favors with which thev in- 1
tended to reward the knights who were to j
contend in their honor. Among those lovely
maidens sat Miss Margaret Shippen. One (
of the knights who figured in the tourna- j
ment was Capt. Andre, her familiar ac- j
quaintancc. Little could either of them c
have thought, on that bright day, how fatal- (
ly their destinies were involved. f
THE TRUMPET SOUNDED, >
the herald appeared. The challenge was
delivered and the contest occured, which ?
ended without the loss of blood, to the sat- j
isfaction of all concerned. At the conclu- ^
sion of the tournament the company was \
ushered into a magnificent ball-room, dc- J
corated we are told, by eighty-five mirrors ]
and lighted by thirty-four branches of wax i
candles. The ball was opened by the four- i
teen belles in Turkish dress and their four- i
teen knights?one, Lieut. Sloper, being the j
knight who led Miss Shippen out to the c
dance. At 10 o'clock the windows were t
thrown open and a splendid display of fire- {
works was exhibited. i
At 12, large folding doors, which had i
hitherto been concealed, were suddenly i
tnrown open, winca revcmeu u guigcuun j
saloon 21(1 feet long:, 40 feet wide, and 22 i
high, with three alcoves on each side. This i
was the supper room. Upon the table there (
were 1,200 dishes. As the guests entered a f
great nuinber of black slaves in oriental ;
costumes, ranged in two lines, bowed to the ?
ground. This vast apartment was one splen- t
dor of wax lights, flowers, ribbons, mirrors i
and silver plate. One of the regular toasts ]
of the occasion was 4'Miss tthippen and 1 ler (
Knight." After supper the company re- \
turned to the ball room and kept up the i
dance until 4 in the morning, reaching i
their homes at sunrise. (
The festival, as Major Andre remarks, 1
was the most splendid ever given by an (
army to its chief. And little, indeed, had
the chief done to deserve it. An old ollicer <
of the British army, who perceived the t
folly of paying such extravagant honors (
to a general who had won no victories, said, i
sadly, "What will Washington say to this?" l
Exactly a month from that day the Brit- (
ish army evacuated Philadelphia, and away ]
they sped across Jersey, with Gen. Wash- t
ington at their heels. A day or two after a <
body of American troops marched in, com- mand
by Gen. Benedict Arnold. All was *
changed. The red coats had disappeared? j
blue coats were in the ascendant, and the
new Yankee general was the foremost man
in the city. Arnold, a vain, weak man, \
fnnrl nf rlicnlnv jin?l lnvnrv. annronri- i
ated to himself one of the handsomest J
houses in the town, where he set up a costly j
establishment kept a great many servants, (
gave splendid dinners and maintained a j
handsome equipage drawn by four horses? >
a scale of expenses utterly incompatible (
either with his fortune or his pay. No one, t
however, knew at the time that to maintain x
the costly pomp he was concerned in specu- (
lations unworthy of an officer and gentle- ,
man, and sometimes used the public money '
that passed through his hands. * g
In inviting his guests, as the patriotic J.
portion of the people remarked with sur- t
prise, he was as likely to select Tories as ,
Whigs. He seemed to coMrt ithe adherents ?
of the King, and he frequently had at his .,
table the wives and daughters of public ene- j
mies, who had been publicly proscribed and |
had found refuge with the enemy in New j
York. Among the families who attracted y
his regard was that of Ed ward Ship pen, and y
he was soon observed to pay particular court (
to hisdaughter Margaret. ' Arnold was then ,
a widower, .'IS years of age, just 20 years {
older than the young lady. Ere long he tl
formally asked her hand from her father, \
and her father consenting, he addressed the t
daughter and they were engaged. g
IX TIIK MEANTIME
Arnold had become so odious by his extravagant
and his insolent, overbearing conduct s
to the people, that Congress was obliged to a
take cognizance of the fact. On the very c
eve of his marriage he was ordered to be c
tried by court-martial. Miss Shippen, how- \
ever, was true to her engagement, ami mar- j
ried him live days after. The court-martial, a
as every one knows, sentenced him to be <'
reprimanded by Ocn. Washington, and he a
was reprimanded accordingly. o
"uur protession," saiu uen. asiungion i;
to him, "is the chastest of all; even the c
shadow of a fault tarnishes the lustre of our i
finest achievements. The least inadver- ?
tenee may rob us of the public favor, so hard s
to be acquired. I reprehendyou for having li
forgotten that in proportion as you had ren- n
dered yourself formidable to your enemies t
you should have been guarded and temper- J
site in your deportment toward your fellowcitizens.
Exhibit anew those noble qualities
which have placed you on the list of our c
most valuable commanders. I will myself b
furnish you, as far as may be in my power, t
with opportunities of reganing the esteem d
of our country." I
This was more like a eulogy than a repri- J
mand, but it did not touch the heart of Ar- 11
nold, who went from the presence of his C
commander, not to regain the esteem of his i
country, but to betray that country. t
A year passed away. He was in com- t
mand at West Point, in correspondence with b
the enemy. Whether she shared her hus- v
band's secret during those months of prepa- I
ration will, perhaps, never be known with t
certainty. Just before the explosion of the c
reason at West Point, Arnold sent for his 2j
vife and child to join him ; and the letter ^
vhich lie wrote her on this occasion, telling ^
he best way of reaching him, and at what
louses she should stop on the road, has been
een. She had not been many days at West |
'oint when the treason was discovered.
Arnold and his wife were seated at the i
ireakfast table with Hamilton, LaFayette j
md an aide. In the midst of the meal a i
lorseman alighted at the door, and a mo- i
nent later a letter was placed in Arnold's
lands, which informed him of hisruin. l,ie
:ontrolled his countenance, rose quietly from
he table, and beckoned his wife to follow i
lim. They went up-stairs to their room? I
vhere lay their infant child?and there he
old her that he was a ruined man and must
ly that instant for his life. She fell senseess
to the floor. Leaving her there, he
ushcd from the room, hurried down stairs,
out some one to her assistance, and then retimed
to the breakfast-room. He told his
cuests that Gen. Washington was coming,
md he must make haste and prepare for his
eception. He mounted the horse of the
nessenger who had brought the letter, and
galloped away.
'"vr ti i \f i f fp/^V
V VJLi. ^la.uiiiiuo
las left us un interesting account of Mrs.
Yrnokl's demeanor after her husband's de- c
nirture. He says she remained frantic all
lay, and accused everyone who approached
ler of an intention to murder lier child.
>he continued, he says, to rave until she fc
vas utterly exhausted. But Col. Burr, in Ilis
old age, was accustomed to give a very e
litterent account of the matter. He had
mown Mrs. Arnold from her infancy, and
le always declared that she knew all about n
ler husband's treason from the beginning, si
tnd he used to relate a scene which he said a
le witnessed at the house of Mrs. Prevost, si
vhora he afterwards married, which some- p
vliat confirms his opinion.
Mrs. Arnold, it will be remembered, was '
;ent home to her father, escorted by a party ?
if horsemen, and remained for the night at 11
he house of Mrs. Prevost, where Col. Burr ti
vas. Mrs. Arnold, he said, burst into the (.
oom dressed in a riding habit, and was p
tbout to speak to the lady of the house,
vhen, seeing him in the dim light of the
ipartment, and not recognizing him, she e
isked anxiously : N e
"Am I safe? Is this gentleman a friend?" h
Unon discovering who he was, she told ti
;hem how she had deceived Gen. Washing- ^
on, Col. Hamilton and other American ofh:ers
by her frantic outcries; and she de- ?
ilared she not only knew of the treason, but "
hat it was she who had induced her hus- q
>and to commit it. I
This was Col. Burr's story, to which the t]
eader may attach the credit which he v
hinks it deserves. Arnold himself does not
;ay that she was ignorant of his intention to 11
iurrender the fortress. In the well-known P
etter which he sent back to Gen. Washing- b
on from the Vulture, he says : ' ti
"From the known humanity of your Ex- e
:ellency, I am induced to ask your protecion
for Mrs. Arnold from every insult and
njury that a mistaken vengeance of my h
oun try may expose her to. It ought to fall 1
inly on me ; she is as good and as innocent fi
us an angel, and is incapable of doing c
vrong." j.
TV./". r\f T>n>mc\rl\Tf>nio hollPV. t
kI, with Burr, that she was a traitor. Her
mpers were seized, and, although nothing ^
vas found in them to criminate lier, she t4
vas not permitted to remain at her father's 1
louse, which she said she desired to do. f<
' ler father otfered to give security that, dur- i
ng the war, she would write no letters to j
ler husband, and send to the Government
mopened any letters she might receive from 0
lim. His offer was refused, and they or- C
lered her to depart and not to return during a
he war. Being then obliged to join her c
lusband in New York, she soon recovered ?
ler spirits and shone in society, to use the ?
anguage of the time, as "a star of the first 4
nagnitude." In England, too, whither she
iccompanied her husband, she attracted
nuch attention for her beauty, and was p
nuch flattered in Tory circles. The British I
Government gave Arnold, in compensation n
or his American losses, something less than f
?7,000, and settled upon his family a p>en- >
;ion of ?1,000 a year, which was* to be con- ?
inued as long as either the husband or the ?
--:r : 1 rpu?:_ ;l? InnmnL-n/l in 0
kV 1JU SUI'VIVCU. 11 It* 11 uuiui.Y iuucuov;u m
England. Arnold, finding himself pinched p
ipon ail income ol XI,.'100 per annum, went p
lpon a trading voyage to Halifax, with 0
,vhat success is not known. It was thought n
iy some that he was glad to leave England o
or a while to escape the contempt in which 8
le was held even by those who had employ- n
>d him. t
Mrs. Arnold lived to 1S04, when she died, ?
lged forty-three years. The infant whom 0
she held in her arms, as described above, c
entered the Uritish army in 1798, rose to the r
ank of lieutenant-general, and was still ?;
iving as late as 1851. One of her grand- j1
hildren is a clergyman in the Church of
England, and, it is said, a very worthy gen- J
;leman, who has conversed with American F
/isitors upon his grandfather in a rational 11
md becoming manner. Two of her sons e
settled in Canada, where they acquired com- a
letent estates and were living in 1821). P
e
Early Notions of Nature.?In all re- F
igions there are two great omnipresent re
ations?of man to nature, to tfou, an? 01
nan to man. Confining ourselves to the re- ^
ation of man to nature, what has the study
>f early Aryan myths shown to be man's J
irst conception of the nature around him?
The Hindoos have probably wandered less
)ver the face of the earth, and suffered less t(
han any other Aryan people. Their early J
eligious records are consequently the clear?st
and best preserved. From these it ap
>ears that the earliest religion was what is
allied animism. This is, as you choose, the x;
ioul, ghost or spirit of this nature; and is :
opposed to have had its source in dreams,
he impalpable nature of whose visions sug- j.
rested the presence in the dreamer of a soul
listinet from the body. If the presence of
l soul could explain dreams, it could equaly
well bo made to explain such things in
limself as man could not rationally com prelend.
The idea of his own soul is followed ,
>y the idea of a soul in every man. From t,
his it is but a short step to the idea of a soul
ir spirit in nature, to account for mysterious
lowers and properties. Thunder and lightling
become the work of a spirit; fire, heat
mil cold, the presence of others; and so on '
hrough all nature. Wherever there is somehing
inexplainable, there is a mysterious
pirit. c'(
This is the earliest and simplest animism. fr
ioon, however, unequal forces of nature (j
uggest unequal spirits behind and in them, ^
md gradually great and small spirits develip,
some predominating others. Through?nt
all. whether, enual. crreat or small, are
vorshipcd on account'of their mysterious '{}
>o\vers. Besides the spirits in living bodies f-j
nd in nature, are the souls relieved by s(
loath, but imagined still to wander at times fr
bout the earth, and to have some influence
hi living men, especially in controlling the ll(
ate of their bodily descendants. From this g(
(inception arose ancestral worship, and the t.j
nany ceremonies at the grave, intended to a]
;ive peaceful rest beyond, that the departed S(
pirit might thus be kindly disposed toward lr
lis offspring. A belief in a future life was fc
lecessary to a strong active people having a
enacious love of life.? Popular Science j
Monthly. p]
g,
Demockatic Bears.?A large liepubli- ai
an mass-meeting was held at Easton, Tal- tl
ot county, Maryland, a few days ago. All tl
he colored people of the county took holi- 3]
:ay and went to town. Mr. liolton, the ri
tepublican candidate for Governor, General ri
Ldam E. King and others addressed the se
ueeting and were attentively listened to. b<
)ther speakers followed. When the meetng
was at its height a fellow with three l
rained bears appeared upon the scene, and fe
he negroes all left the meeting to see the cc
ears dance and climb trees. The speaking fr
ras nearly stopped. It is charged that the it
)emoerats employed the man with the bears M
o break up the meeting by drawing off the ai
olored people. M
SJiugtajitoal flqiattm?.*tt
JOHN GRIFFIN CARLISLE,
AXDIDATE FOR SPEAKER IX THE NEXT
CONGRESS.
The candidature of Join Grffin Carlisle
)r the speakership in the newly elected
'ederal House of Representatives is an
vent of importance, especially to those citiens
who favor economic reform. He rep?sents
the Sixth Kentucky District, is a
tatesman of very considerable experience
nd unquestionably will command great
trength in the councils of his party when
is chosen leaders assemble at the Capitol
nd elect a man to preside over the debates
f the next House. Mr. Carlisle was born
,1 Campbell (now Kenton) county, lveniicky,
September o, 183o. He resides at
'ovington in the same State. Like many
iading Americans of this as well as of past
enerations, he began life possessed of no
ducational advantages beyond those gaind
at the common school, but he worked
ard and at an early age assumed the duies
of a public school teacher. His leisure
ime was utilized in reading law, and when
pportunity favored his aspirations, he enured
an office at Covington and thoroughly
ualified himself for admission to the Bar.
le was admitted in 1858, when* twentyhree
years of age, and has ever since deoted
that portion of his time not given to
he public service, to the practice of his
rofession. In 1859 he was elected a memer
of the Kentucky House of Representaives.
Nominated in 1SG4 as presidential
lector on the Democratic ticket, he declind
the honor. In 1866 he was elected to the
enate of his native State, and again in
8G9. He was present as a delegate at large
:om Kentucky, at the National Democratic
'onvention held in New York City, in 1868.
lis nomination for lieutenant-governor of
Kentucky in 1871, caused him to resign his
eat in the State Senate. He was elected
e the lieutenant-governoship in August,
871, and served until Sep tern) er, 1875. His
ellow-citizens elected him presidential elecor
at large for Kentucky in the year 1876.
le was subsequently elected to the House .
f Representatives at Washington. Mr.
'arlisle's "record" in Congress is that of an
ble and diligent man, well-informed and
. an 1
ompeteni to mi muro hauhcu ijwaitiuiia
han those he has been called upon to fill,
s yet.
Postal Affairs.?A statement has been
irepared, by direction of the Postmaster
General, for the use of the postoffice departnent
which shows that the total receipts
rom the postal service during the fiscal
ear ended June 30th, 1883, were $45,508,692,
nade up as follows: Letter postage paid in
noney $146,219; box rents and branch ofices,
$1,882,064; fines and penalties, $9,752;
tostage stamps, stamped envelopes, newsiapers,
wrappers and postal cards, $43,014,43;
dead letters, $12,280; r< venues from
noney order business, $411,621 ; miscellaneus
$32,714. The expenditures were $42,16,700,
the principal items being railway
nail transportation $11,155,180; compensaion
of postmasters, $10,315,304, star route
ervice, $5,651,526; postoffice clerks, $4,367,79;
letter carriers, $3,173,306; railway postal
lerks, $3,698,032. The surplus revenue duing
the year was $2,691,982. The third asistant
postmaster general expresses the beief
that the surplus revenue would have
een greater by at least one million dollars
f the receipts had not been affected during
he last quarter of the year by the approachng
reduction in postage rates, while the
xpeuditures were greatly increased by the
ct that began to operate on March 3rd last,
iroviding for the readjustment of postmastrs'
salaries on a basis of reduced postage
hat did not go into effect until eight months
hereafter.
A New Ballot-Box.?They tried a new
allot-box at the election in Massaehuetts
last week. It is designed to prevent
rouri Tiioni l jttipr dniibt that it has manv
irtues. The work of this ballot-box is
/holly automatic, the operator having only
o turn a crank. The ballot is placed upon
he slide at the top of the box, being entirey
shut out from the interior. The election
fficer turns the crank as soon as the name
f the voter is checked, and with one revoluion
the ballot is passed inside the box,
tamped with two continuous lines of a
rinted device across the entire length of
ts face. At the same time a gong is soundd
and a register facing the public is moved
howing in figures the number of ballots
ast. By this method, if two ballots aredeosited
'together but one is stamped, the
pper one escaping the impression, and
raud or accident is at once indicated when
tie count is made. The old and well-develped
trick of adding a bunch of ballots to
ie heap while the count is going on is preented,
for the stamp of the box is going on
11 the honest ballots. And that other trick
f scratching ballots by a rascally election
fiicer while counting is prohibited by the
' * * 1 * J 1 - -1 3 XI
ict that a.scratch cannot ue piaceu over uie
mtinuous stamp without betraying its
nuilulent character. If this ballot-box will
o anything like what is claimed for it, it
ill supply a long-felt want.
The Common Schools.?We observe that
;veral newspapers which are fast friends of
le South Carolina alleged University and
le Citadel Academy oppose the public
hool system on the ground that by giving
ee education it degrades the people and
:aches them to be dependent on others for
^vantages they should obtain for them;lves.
Which is the more degraded, the
lild or youth who is given the elements of
11 education for nothing at the public
:hools, or the half grown bey or full grown
uin who is given the "higher education"
ir nothing ??Greenville News.
1ST The buffalo is fast disappearing. The
[elena (Montana) Herald says that if the
jvernment wishes to preserve a natural
ad suitable park far the remnant of buffalo,
le place is that portion of Montana from
le crest of the main range of the Rocky
[ountains, to the eastern border of the Tertory,
and north of the Marias and Missourivers.
It is now mainly an Indian reirvation,
but the Indians are few in numir,
and do not use it for any purpose.
tear The monument over the grave of Jefrson,
erected by the government, is now
nnplete. The structure protects his grave
om ravage. Now that nis bones are safe
is a good time to do honor to his principles.
le have sadly wandered from the frugal
ul simple methods of government which
fr. Jefferson spent his life in devising.