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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j % $nirepenl>?nf Jfamiljr ftefospjier: fit % |)r onto (ion of fjjc political, Social, ^grinilfural atib Commercial Interests of tbe South, 'terms?$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 30. YOEKYILLE, 8 C., THURSDAY, FEBEUAEY 7, 1884. ISTO. 6. Jin Original Jtorg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. CELESTINE. THE SpRY OF A MISTAKE. CHAPTER VII. The old gentleman listened attentively to his nephew's recital, and when he had finished, remarked drily? "It doesn't seem to me that you did a very brilliant thing for yourself after all, when you insisted on taking up your present calling." "I did not suppose it was a brilliant thing," calmly repned Silas, "but I have never regretted my choice; and if I had to encounter twice as many difficulties and hardships as have already fallen to my lot, I should, nevertheless, feel perfectly satiswi+h m\7 railing whiohT consider the U^TVA YT1WI1 Vv"**i "ft 7 ' ? ? ? ? highest and noblest on earth." "Tastes differ," said Mr. Franklin. "At least you possess the merit of being consistent, and consistency is always to be respected. I am sorry," he added, seriously, "that I did not hear sooner of your awkward circumstances. It would have?ahem?pleased me to be of some assistance to you." He rose from his seat, and walked to the window, where he stood for some moments in silence. Silas also was silent. His newly-awakened hope was beginningto die out, and a cold feeling of disappointment to take its place. His uncle's next remark was irrelevant. "Not a very interesting looking place, this town of yours. Is the prospect everywhere like this ?" "Pretty much so," coldly answered the minister. "I think I'll go out and take alook around. If you have no objection, I shall return here f to dinner, and afterwards trespass on you for a night's lodging. But perhaps you have no accommodation for me ." "Yes, there is a spare room?you are quite welcome to occupy it," answered his nepnew, trying to infuse some cordiality into his tone. "Thanks. Well, nephew, good-bye for the Dresent?by the by, what time do you dine?" "We diqe at the unfashionable hour of three; but you can have dinner at any hour that suits you." "Say four then," said the old gentleman, and he walked away. ' . He had not been long gone when Miss Latimer entered with a perplexed face. "If you please, Mr. Warren," she began rather hesitatingly, "I've got to go out for a little while, and yet I don't like to leave you." "Never mind leaving rae," answered Silas. "I shall not want anything." "Are you quite sure? because if not?" "Oh, I am quite sure," interrupted the minister rather impatiently; and Miss Latimer withdrew. To the amazement of Silas, he presently saw her going down the street in company with Mr. Franklin, who appeared to have waited for her at the corner. "What on earth can he mean by this visit?" he asked himself uneasily a dozen times; and he worried himself over the question until he nearly got a fever. He was greatly disturbed, too, by the knowledge that Celestine's visit to the city was destined to be a fruitless .one, and wished heartily that she had not gone. Altogether, he passed a most uncomfortable afternoon ; and was beginning at last to long for Miss t .nini*n onrl trv ivnnHor what pmilfl iJitll II1CJL S IClUlUjUiiu w nvuuv* ? ? detain her away so long, when she made her appearance, bearing in her hand a tray full of delicacies, which she set on the table. "If you are ready for your dinner, now, Mr. Warren, it's all ready for you," she remarked, smilingly. "Mr. Franklin asked particularly that you wouldn't wait for him, as he might be lalb." "What have you got there ?" asked Silas, eyeing the tray suspiciously. "Just one or two little things I got down town. I thought they might tempt your appetite,", answered Miss Latimer in a business-like tone. "They don't amount to much, butsick folks like such trifles. Come, Mr. Warren, I want to get you strong and well by the time Mrs. Warren comes home; it'll be' a nice surprise for her." Silas gave a sort of groan. "Did my uncle buy those things ?" lfe asked without moving. "He ? oh, well?/bought them; I thought you wouldn't mind." "You bought them with his money, you mean. Be it so," said the minister bitterly. "Humility is a Christian virtue, and I must not refuse what will do me good, I suppose." In spite of the distaste he felt at accepting his uncle's bounty in such a form, it was grateful to his physical craving; nature, loathing the plain common fare that only a healthy"appetite could enjoy, had desired more tempting nourishment, and did not share the moral fastidiousness which shrank , from the gift. The white delicate breast of a tender chicken, flanked by scalloped oysters, and supplemented byasaucerof amber jelly and a glass of superior port wine, made a repast which only an invalid, to whom the luxuries of life had long been unknown, could appreciate. "Is there anything else you would like, Mr. Warren ?" asked Miss Latimer, perceiving with much satisfaction, when she came to remove the tray, that the joint ef- j forts of Mr. Franklin and herself had not been wasted. "Nothing, Miss Latimer. I have already had too much," said poor Silas. "Oh 110, Mr. Warren ! you will feel the better for it, I am sure," rejoined the good woman, accepting the statement literally. "Now if you could take a little quiet nap, I know it would refresh you; and I will see that you are not disturbed." An hour afterwards, Mr. Franklin, entering very gently, found his nephew sleeping placidly on the sofa; and standing near, he watched him with a suspicious softness on his own face, as if the aspect of the pale, worn features in repose awoke some kindly memory in his heart. "He is very like his mother," he mutter ed to himself, "very like. Ana now oia lie looks?nearly as old as I do. I suppose it's the sickness that has done it?" When Silas awoke it was quite late. Ilis uncle had dined, and was, waiting for him in the next room. "I hope you are better, nephew," he said kindly, as the minister entered. * "I do feel better this evening, thank you. I must apologize for my rudeness in' not being ready to receive you on your return," answered Silas, sinking into a chair. "No apologies necessary, I assure you. I have been making a tour of discovery today," said the old gentleman, "and have discovered a good deal." "Anything interesting, may I ask, sir?" "Very interesting to me. I have discovered evidences of a great work?a great and good work, nephew ; it's only fair to admit that," said Mr. Franklin, with some excitement of manner. "1 have heard accounts, sir, from various sources, of the manner in which this work has been done, which , have awakened my admiration and my respect for the person who has accomplished it. And I regret," continued the old gentleman, bringing his fist down with emphasis upon the arm of his chair, "that I did not know of all this sooner?that 1 have allowed prejudice to stand-so long in the way of my arriving at a proper understanding of the state of affairs. 1 confess that J have been wrong, nephew, and have acted a wrong part toward you?an unworthy part, by (ieorge ! you are a better man than 1 am, and I am forced to own it. You are a good and hardworking and faithful member of your profession, sir, and I respect that profes sion now as l have never respecteuir oeiure. Will you shake hands upon that, and agree to forget the past ?" lie held out his hand as he spoke. .Silas took it mechanically, scarely understanding the drift of his discourse. "And now you will let rnemakeamendsfor , my beggarly conduct," Mr. Franklin went on, "by providing for your future. I have ! already placed in the bank here an or! der for a certain amount, to be at your [ disposal, for present needs; and here," he ! adaed, laying a folded paper on the table, j "it a checque on my bankers in the city, j which you will make use of at your pleasi ure. Pray don't say a word," with a hasty , gesture, "it is a subject that doesn't bear j discussion?I am anxious to be done with i it. I can only add that I expect you hencei forth to call upon me without reserve, in i any case where I can be of use to you. You can give me no better proof of forgiveness for the shabby way in which I have treated you all along." Silas was overpowered; indeed, though he tried to speak, he could not at first manage to shape articulate words. It was not so much gratitude for this late generosity on his uncle's part?which was simple justice after all?that overcame him, as the sudden sense i of relief, the knowledge that the sickening suspense and pressure of poverty, so long endured, were lifted from him, that he could once more make Celestine comfortable, and not be tortured by the consciousness that she was toiling and suffering for his sake, that acted upon him almost like a shock. Something of this feeling he did manage at last to put into words, and to add that when once he could recover his strength he hoped he could not have to be dependent on his uncle's bounty. "Nonsense," said Mr. Franklin, testily. "There is no question of dependence; it is simply your right. Your are my own sister's son, the nearest relation I have, and indeed almost the only one; and you well know what my original intention was concerning you, only I allowed a stubborn prejudice to come in the way of carrying it out. It's your trade to preach forgiveness to sinners, and how can I suppose that you really forgive the wrong I have done you, if you refuse to accept restitution now? When I die, my money will all be yours. There's no harm in telling you that. So why not let me see you get some good out of it while I am alive?" Silas, much moved, warmly pressed his uncle's hand. "I accept your gift he replied ; and believe me, it could not have come at a more opportune time. I have been sorely pressed, and this sickness has unfitted me for everything. For my wife's sake, far more than for my own, I am deeply thankful for your aid." "Enough said, nephew. Let's drop the subject," said the old gentleman, heaving a sigh of relief. "I should like to see this wife of yours, whom you think so much of; it's a pity I've lost the chance now. Did I tell you of my intended trip to Arizona?" No, Silas replied, he had not heard him speak of it. T nrvi am \rn\T fVinr/A nmv T >> C1I, 1 ?1111 WU 1UJ H CIJ LUV1V ?tv?? J ?. have business near one of the mines. I shall stop there a few weeks before returning to San Francisco, and hope to see you on my way back." Excitement kept Silas awake a great part of that night. Thoughts of his sudden, unlooked-for emancipation from the shackles of poverty, of Celestine's happiness when she should learn the good news, tilled his mind and banished sleep from his eyes; and it was not until near daylight that the tumult of his mind subsided sufficiently to admit of repose. When he slept, it was to dream of pleasant things; and he awoke refreshed, at a late hour, to learn that his uncle had gone, leaving with Miss Latimer a message of farewell. "And now, Miss Latimer," he said as soon as breakfast was over, "we must set to work to have everything nice and comfortable before my wife comes back. You know better than I how to do it; only let nothing be wanting to give her a cheerful welcome home. Thank God, I am able now to let her have that!" "1 say thank God, too, Mr. Warren," heartily responded Miss Latimer, who was too good to a friend not to be admitted into the secret of the family prosperity, as she had shared that of their adversity?shared it more completely than ever Silas knew. Her thoughts reverted now to the diamond cross?what a pity that Mr. Franklin had not come in time to prevent its being sold !? But of that transaction of course the minister knew nothing. All that day Miss Latimer bustled around with wonderful energy, cleaning and dusting and arranging; and, before evening, new, snowy curtains replaced the old ones in the windows of Celestine's bedroom, and one or two other shabby articles were removed and their places supplied, while fresh flowers were arranged in vases and brightened and beautified the aspect of eve ! ry thing. Miss Latimer had, perhaps, caught | a touch of Celestine's poetic nature during [ their intercourse, or perhaps she was only j prompted by loving-kindness to make the sort of preparation she knew she would enjoy. At any rate, she resolved to spare no pains to give her the welcome which her husband had bespoken for her. As to Silas, he felt wonderfully stronger and better already ; and no one looking at him, could doubt the truth of the statement that the mind acts more powerfully than medicine upon the body. Happiness is a grand tonic; and to-day he felt as light and happy as a boy. He half hoped that Celestine might return by this evening's train. It was just possible that she would do so, though he was obliged to admit that it was scarcely to be expected. On the whole, he reflected, it would be best for her to defer her homeward journey until the following day; ot he wise, she would be j too much hurried and fatigued. He picI tured to himself her disappointment at the i failure of her errand, her sorrowful feelings j during her journey home, her reluctance to I ,1 r 1 ' 4- L. f/? hJivt Innocorl ontll | UiM'lUftt* nil- U UUI lUllllil, UltU iwu^vv* w v?y... j fort and reassure her. What a moment of | joy it would be for them both when he could ! take her into his arms and say, "Be happy, j my wife, for our troubles are past, our hardships at an end; we shall have to struggle ! with poverty no more." He could see the ! wondering glance of inquiry in the soft eyes, j the brightening look, the quivering smile ! as the truth disclosed itself to her, as plainly ! as though the moment had already come. ; One more night?yes, only one, he felt sure, and then he could .-*fely say, "To-day, she will be here!" "It is too late for any one coming by the ! train now, Miss Latimer, I think?" he said i in the evening when the clock had struck i eight. "Why yes, Mr. Warren; I am pretty | sure it is. Why, you didn't look for Mrs. i Warren to-night, surely." "Scarcely?yet I fancied she might come. However, I ought to have known she could not hurry back so soon. I think I will go to ! bed early, Miss Latimer, because I did not I rest very well last night, and I am tired. Will you see that my room is ready?" "It's all ready, Mr. Warren. I am just : out of it a minute ago." Silas rose, and with a bright, thankful glance around, moved towards thedoor. As he reached the hall, there was a sound of the front gate opening, and steps coming up the walk. "There she is!" he cried joyfully; but at the same instant a heavy knock dispelled the illusion. "It's some visitor," said Miss Latimer coming lorward. "You'd better not wait, I Mr. Warren; I'll see whoever it is and say that you are gone to bed." Silas followed her advice and went to his room ; but a minute afterwards Miss Latii 1 ??iu:.v? i^.,. ,,/v;,l/x mer tappeu ami uuit-u nim m <?, n>? miw. i "It's Mr. llill, Mr. Warren, and he'd j like to see you on particular business," she j said as he opened the door. "I told him j I you were tired, but he says if you can pos- j ! sibly spare him a few minutes he would | rather not wait." "Mr. Hill!?why?he must bring news of j j ('destine," exclaimed Silas, with sudden I ! apprehension. Tell him I will be there im- j | mediately?never mind, I am all ready | ! now." And hastily passing Miss Latimer, j he sought the parlor with a fluttering heart. "I wonder what that man's come for," I thought the good woman as she slowly I traversed the hall and seated herself on a chair at the farthest end. "I felt as if some thing was wrong as soon as I saw hi in, but ? I hope I may be mistaken. If anything ? had happened to Mrs. Warren, seems to me he would have told me right away, If any- thing has happened, like a railroad accident, ] or sickness, or so on, I just hope he won't be such a fool as to go startling Mr. Warren out, throwing him into another fever?as likely as not! Some men are such fools? and as to this Hill, I never could abide him; he doesn't seem to be made of flesh and blood like other folks." ^ Her meditations had lasted a considerable time before there was the sound of moving " in the parlor, and she saw Mr. Hill come ?! out and let himself out through the front door. Then she went into the parlor, and ? found the minister crouching over the table, 1 with his face buried in his hands, like a man " who has received a blow, his whole attitude 111 expressive of utter and abject despair. K( [to be continued.] ?jiugtapftitttl gcpartmcnt. js ROBERT TOOMBS. ^ G RE AT LAWYER AND CONVERSATION A LIST. 0) Among many great lawyers of the South, m Robert Toombs is eminent, and not less so a^ as a politician and conversationalist. His n< home is at Washington, Georgia, the State cc in which he was born, on the second of July, tl 1810, the son of a father who was iri good h< circumstances. He was left fatherless at an hi early age. His collegiate training, begun ti at the University of Georgia, was completed ?] at Union College, Schenectady, New York, A where he was graduated in 1828. When A nineteen years old he attended a law course tli at the University of Virginia, and in 1830 b] was admitted to the bar, by a special act of w the legislature of his native State, about a d< year before he had attained his majority. p< He opened an office in the county of his present residence and in which he was born, so In 1836 he took part aseaptain in a can: paign lo against the Creek Indians, headed by Gen- rn eral Scott, and conducted in Alabama, and si in which he served with distinction. Soon ni after his return home, he was elected to the vi Georgia legislature, in which he continued tli from 1837 to 1840. He was re-elected and in took an active part in its proceedings during ti 1842 and 1843. The next year after this he was elected to the United States Congress, st He supported Harrison lor the presideacy in w 1840, and Henry Clay in 1844. Mr. Toombs w was a member of the House of liepresenta- w tives at Washington, from his first election in to 1853, when he took his seat in the I'nited b< States Senate. In 1859 he was re-elected to w this body, and retired when Georgia seceded la from the Union. His name was prominent ai among those of the Secessionists. Alter sv having acted as a delegate in the Confeder- ?i ate Congress held at Montgomery, he be- si came Secretary of State in the Cabinet of c< Jefferson Davis, but soon retired from this position to assume a military command, jvi with the rank of brigadier-general. When h General Sherman invaded Georgia, Toombs, \r who had resigned his position in the Con- d1 federate army, served as general of the State tl militia. The failure of the Southern cause n led to his leaving the country, to which he p did not return until 1867, having lived U meanwhile in Cuba, France and England, si Upon reaching home he resumed the prae- ol tice of the law, by which he is understood to have amassed large wealth. Mr. Toombs' ti views on the relation of the States to the y Federal Government, it is needless to say, ai remain the same as when he took an active y part in defending what, in his opinion, is h the right of secession by the individual t< States. e< QUEER SHADOWS. A It was twilight. The red flashes thrown on the window-panes by the setting sun had slowly faded out and given place to the ?' first soft shadows of night, which bring the y cricket from its hiding place and send the ll" bee and the butterfly to sleep. There was a p feeling of rest in the room?a feeling j1 of quiet contentment and perfect satisfac- J* tion. The hum from other rooms lulled " instead of annoyed; the voices of chil- xv dren on the street seemed far away arid had 0 a touch of pathos. " The old man lay at perfect ease. His ^ eves rested on the wall at the foot of the s' bed?his thin, wrinkled hands Ave re folded tl one over the other?there was no pain to c] deepen the lines on his kindly face. He had S1 seen the sun go down, and hf: listened for e the voice of the cricket and t'.ie call of the (l whip-poor-will. 'J What was that? " A shadow suckVenCy flitted across the wall a in front of his eyes. Now another and a another. Now the first shadows flit back to head a profession. Passing from right Ti' to left the procession moves?a proves- ? sion of queer shadows. They take on. faces t a as they move along, and the old man's j t heart beats faster as each face comes before s r him. Here are the friends of his youth? t faces which grew white in death so long ago v that he had forgotten them. This one was 1 a c'nild?that a youth?tluvt a fair young t girl when he stood by and saw the earth: 1 cover them. They smile at him and his- 1 heart grows younger. J One procession ends and another begins, c These are the faces of men and women; stricken down in the noonday of life. Some' t of them had shared his hopes and sympa- ] thized with his sorrows?all had been his i friends, the sea, the lake and the forest gave their dead to the procession of shadows, and ; i each face was recognized and remembered. , 1 The procession moves on and on. lie is-; c shocked to realize that so many of his- i \ friends fell in the battle of life while he was-, 1 spared to grow old and rest in peace. J t Now comes the third procession. There :! i is a father, old and bent and feeble; a moth- jj c er with wrinkled nutient face : brothers in ' t youth and middle age ; sisters who wept, j t with him over some of the graves. Every fj ^ face looks as it did in life ; every eye meets '] r him with a glad look of recognition. The , t shadows wave their hands and move on,.; 1 and the old man's heart grows childish and jj 1 big. i a1 There is another procession. The first ;jl shadow is that of a loved wife, who died |1 while the snow-white locks had scarcely ;{i turned gray. Then came the children?sons j * and daughters?five in all. ()ne by one they ij s had grown weary and rested by the way- i| 1 side, leaving husband and father to pursue- jj s the journey alone. The procession halts, jj 1 and every shadow holds out.its hands to the c poor old man as if in supplication. His-; j iifnrt v\vf>ll<?t/>!irs fill his <?ves. and be cries. i I out to them : j "I see you all?I am coming !" j 1 Back with your light! But it is too laic- i a The glare of the lamp flings the twilight out , f of the room with hasty hand, and the sliaxl- . <i ows which crept along the wall are gone-, }j forever. No one saw them but the old iatmr i f and yet there is proof of their presence, i <i His poor old hands are outstretched?on his- j 1 white cheeks are tears?on his wrinkled.; r face a smile of joy and gladness. i c His spirit had joined the shadows L 1 m. qua i>. Scraps of ffotal pisforj*. REMINISCENCES OP YORK. BY Dr. MAURICE A. MOORE. From the Yorkville Enquirer, 1870. THE TURKEY CREEK NEIGHBORHOOD /as settled, in great part, by families from le lower portion of South Carolina. Among lese were the Williamses, Palmers, Mariis, Kings, Normans, Pierces, and C'otruers. Some of these came up prior to the evolutionary war?some after its close, hey were wealthy, and brought with iem into the district, a large number of ?groes. Being high livers and poor manairs, they soon scattered among their thrifr up-country neighbors, a niynber of their aves, as it was quite a common rule with iem, to sell one or two negroes each year, bring in a revenue for next year's exmses. A 1+1iaiioV? thmr 11ram tinf Dnf/avr?ri?:in(/ or .llllJUU^U tilVJ ??V4V *IWl? VK^k|/.4M?fh " J loney-making citizen^, these families were <, valuable accession York district. They ( ere people - of hifctr tone of character, } arm hearts, genialdiospitality and courtly , anners. This mingling with the earlier ] ttlers, had a softening influence in social , fe, and introduced a gentler element of < odes and means. I distinctly remember , d Capt. Joseph Palmer the very embodi- i ent of an old-school gentlemen?always . earing the beautifully plaited ruffled shirt, , ell blacked topped boots, and riding a fine , irse; with a bow of grace and elegant ^ gnity, old Sir Charles Grandison could < )t have surpassed. During the war he < as, part of the time, Commissary for Colo?1 Edward Lacey's Regiment of mounted ifantry. After peace was restored, he fid, for many years, the office of Magisate. lie was a Surveyor by profession, ul one of the most accomplished of his ind. His plats were models for their aciracy of measurement and neatneess of ex;ution. He was universally looked up to id respected ; even a stranger was bound i feel the power of his finished manner and >urtly address. It was really an advance to the youth of his vicinity to enjoy the iportunity of imitating such accomplishlents. These, too, held him a good deal in ,ve, for they well knew a gaucherie or rudebss, would not pass, in his presence, un>rrected. Over the broad mantel-board in u?n ?r tu HUM U1 HID I1UUSC, UUI11J?; UlC V;iuiouuao alidays, in plain letters, easily deciphered, 3 would chalk the following quaint disch : Pray stand aside, sirs, 'tis every one's desire, s well as you, sirs, to see and feel the tire." nd the shivering little urchin who would loughtlessly plant himself in front of the aziitg logs, to the exclusion of others, ould hang his head abashed, and step iftly to one side, when his attention wtts jinted "to the writing on the wall." Some of these families after a few years, ild their purchases and returned to the w-couutry. Others made York their pertinent home, and their descendants still rede in the district. When I was a boy, ambers of the Huguenot families of Pineille would, every summer, travel up in leir carriages, spending the season in our ore salubrious climate, with their relaves and friends, who were settled here. io 5i aepiimgenu.nit.il, nuumig i? nunc riking than the change of social customs ithin his recollection. A young man aDting to address a girl, intheolden time, ould ask of the father or guardian of his lamorata, the liberty of the house." This hug granted him, whether the attentions ere agreeable or otherwise to the young d.v, she was bound4)y respect to her father id every sense of pdliteness, to receive the rain's attentions with courtesy, till he me directly to the point with her ; when ie could give him a decided refusal or acjptance. I recall a practical joke played by a gay id beautiful young widow, Mrs. 31., and er niece, Miss Betsy 31., who was not far iferior in attractions.* It would be now eenied a jest unrefined beyond fastness?in lose days a merry humor; though I canot say i would not now question its proriety, if committed under my tutelage, ht those who perpetrated it, would have lrunk, with blushes, from the indelicacy fa round dance. It was Christmas week and hog-killing me. Two younj; gents?Jimmy 31. and [ansfield G.?concluded to go a sparlchu/, id the charming widow and 3Hss Betsy [. were, to each, e.n attraction. The cheery lazing fire inside, was a pleasant contrast ) the snow on the ground outside. So izily did the day roll round, they eonclued they would remain during the night, .bout the hearth, the circle gathered ; told ories, asked ridci les, and the evening pass1 right merrily. When the hour for retirlg came, the lad ies made an excuse that ie candles were out and they had not yet lother supply?the fire light must serve ie gentlemen in their stead, and by it, they oped they could make their way to the ed. Jimmy 31. said he knew their quarts, having occupied them before. 3Ir. G. as equally complacent. Good-nights were xehanged, and all went to their different partments. G. disrobed before his bed'Uow and ran and jumped into bed. As he ipped in, he hastily drew up the covering > ex clude the firosty air. Out he bouneed, tying at the top of his voice, "Snakes! nat es!!?snakes in the bed." "Sxakes!" xc'aimed the astonished Jimmy. "Snake*, nd mow on the (/round f" And seizing a lazing pine knot, he ran to the bed, threw o wn the covering and discovered, lying bout the middle, a coil of? expanded hoy' itraUs. There had been a larger amount than was leeded prepared for tne sausages, and the urplus was seized by the girls to blow up, no with them, perpetrate the joke. A lurst of smothered merriment from the next oom?the domicile of the ladies?explained he affair to the young men. Jimmy M. vas badly in lovci?took the trick in good >art, laughed heartily at the excellent counerfoit and G.'s unseasonable snakes. The atter, more sensitive, re-dressed, declared le felt himself insulted and would leave. Phe ladies, who were still in full toilet, came ait and met him as he was starting, begged lis pardon, assured him it was but a jest of he season, &c., &c. lie could not blow (hem tp, as they had the entrails, so he rode away 11 cold dignity. i\o\v, iny irienu, ^\ai iuanoii, *uuk iu? nortification more gently. He escorted lome, one Sunday, from the meeting house, >n e of old Col. Beckham's daughters. There vere, beside, going to Col. B's hospitable louse, several young ladies. Each had an scort, and the young men all accepted the nvitation of the old gentleman to remain luring the night. After tea a servant enered to remove the boots of the gentlemen, iringinga pair of slippers for each to assume, vliile he was blacking the boots for the niorow's wear. As it was customary, although he ladies were present, the beaux, without lesitancy, submitted to the pulling of their loots and the comfortable substitute offered, in til Nat's turn came. Jle declined. "His mots were not much muddied"were verylard to get off," he said, "and the servant leed not black them." "Oh !" replied the 'olonel, "this boy can pull any boot I ever aw?let him take them off for you." "No, thank you," returned Nat, urbanely, "I'm ure, he could not succeed with these. I lave always to use a boot-jack or get to the rack of the door." Old Colonel Beckham's iride in Ctesar's efficiency was aroused, and ic insisted on his being allowed to try. <at was in for it, and the stout negro laid iol(l. Xat was a small man; but, just then, i very determined one. lie held a stubborn not and rigid toes, but the burly strength >f the black was too much for him ; his foot ;ave way, the boot slipped off, and there, in ull view of the ladies and all, lay the gist if the matter. Poor Nat boasted no foot to lis stocking?a leg and heel was all?the est completely worn off; and to use the ift-repeatedpun, "each toe spoke its perfect lealth, for they were all able to be out." At weddings, quiltings, or parties of any tind, where there were enough assembled ogether, the young people would always lave a dance. No one ever made any reigious objection, and I've seen an Elder of as jure piety as any man who ever lived, lead )ff the reel. Our minister used to look on ind say he much preferred it to games sometimes introduced to vary the entertainnent. When pawns were forfeited by some faux pas, by an unlucky individual in ;he game, a frequent penalty in paying ,vas?the offender being a young man?to dss some designated girl through the ounds of a chair, placed on his head for ;he purpose. I must agree with him. It is i far more pleasant sight to see well-taught "eet, keeping time to lively music, than to witness the romping games which are insti:uted as a vent for the exuberance of spirit ;hat vouth. health and untried hearts are jivon by Dame Nature. When a few young persons accidentally net at a friend's, and would gather in the ong winter evenings around the huge lire :)lace, which took up almost the half of the jnd of the good sized hall, they would agree, ilternately, to tell a tale, ask a riddle and sing a song. The rule compelled each to contribute their share to the evening's imusement. All would comply, and those whose attempts were failures, stood being laughed at good naturedly; feeling, in that way, if not the other, they had given their juota to the evening's fun.' Those who sang well were called on repeatedly for songs and there is a ballad much admired, sixty years igo, which I have never seen in print; but my memory serves me so well as to enable me to recall all but about four lines. It is, I think, a pretty sequel to the always popular -Scotch songof"Auld Robin Grey," and I cannot refrain from giving it. It was called THE DEATH OF AULD HO BIX OBEY. "The.summer it was smiling, All nature round was gay ; And Jeannie was attending On nnnrimld Robin (?rav. For he was sick at heart, And had no friend besides, Save only poor Jeannie, Who newly was a bride. 'Oh! Jeannie, I shall die,' he cried 'As sure as I had birth; Then see my poor old bones, I pray, Laid decent in the earth And bo a widow for my sake, A twelve-month and a day ; And you shall have what e'er belongs To poorauld Uobin Grey. I laid poor Robin in the earth, As decent as I could ; And shed a tear upon his grave, For he to me was good. I took my Koekall in my hand And to my cot I hied ; L'rying wae is me ! what shall I do Since poor auld Robin's died? Search every land, throughout the world, There's none like me forlorn : I'm ready e'en to ban the day, That ever I was born. I tried to laugh, I tried to sing, To pass my lime away, For father was dead, mither was dead, And e'en auld Robin Gray. At length the merry bells rang out, I could na guess the cause; Rut Rodney was the man, they said, Who gained so much applause. I doubted if the tale were true, Till .Jamie came to me, . And shewed to me a purse of gold. Said 'Jeannie 'tis for thee; Auld Robid Grey is dead I find. And still your heart is true, *Oh! Jeannie take me to your arms, And I will bo so too! l'res' John shall join us in the kirk, And we'll be blithe and gay.' I blushed, consented and replied, 'Adieu auld Robin Grey.'" The air was a sweet, plaintive one?that suited well the simple tenor of the tale; and the voice now long silent that poured forth the melody, better far?untaught though it was, by all but a true ear and fine taste? than many a one I've heard since, trained under many masters to trill Italian sonatas and French rigolettas, not one word of which could the listeners understand, to add interest to notes my old fashioned ears deemed more torturing than pleasing. As the witching hour of midnight drew near, the tales would increase in horror and mystery. Each one of the circle drew their chairs nearer to one another and the sinking lire, and excited imaginations all aglow, made even the boldest half afraid to look behind them on the gloaming darkness. Vehicles of all kinds were scarce. Ladies, as well as gentlemen, usually rode on horse back, and many a well-to-do farmer hauled up his corn crop on sleds. The said corn was made without a trace-chain, for they used, as a substitute, laths made of white oak. As they knew no better, these did excelently well except at the end of the row, as in consequence of the stiffness of the laths they had to lift the plough clear round. It was a great improvement when raw cow-1 tugs, made out of green cow-hides, were introduced. The xt retching and contracting j properties of these gears, were exemplified? nvprwplI. iiprhans?bv the tale told by a countryman, who was?swapping lies with j an old acquaintance. He said he cut down a bee tree about a half a mile from his house, on the creek. The I tree broke as it fell and out gushed a stream of honey into the creek, that made metheglin of its waters for a matter of twenty-live yards. He ran directly home for his cart and yoked up his oxen, the gears for which were green cowhides. He drove back to his bee tree, loaded his cart heavily, and then drove off for home. The oxen went well, but the cart never moved a step, for the cow-tugs kept stretching till they stretched all the way to his house. He turned the oxen loose when he got there, threw the yoke over the limb of a tree, and in the evening the cart came screaking up to his home, for the sun had drawed up the cow-tugs to the right length again. At the period of which I speak, there was but one glazed house in the district, outside the limits of Yorkville. That was built by old Col. Bratton. It boasted two or three windows,filled by onesash, each, composed of four panes, not more than about six by eight inches in size. I am under the impression the building is still standing at Brattonsville. I often think those primitive times were very happy ones. The very absence of elegance and luxury stifled envy and extravagance, and encouraged sociability and hospitality. Bacon was almost invariably out by harvest, and from that time on till winter, there would be slaughtered, alternately, a pig, beef and sheep, to furnish meat. Boned turkeys, eggs lacmne, ?&e., were unknown efforts; and a roasted fowl, baked pig, or big chicken pie were the chef (Vteuvreof our cui sine. The low-country famines 01 runtey Creek usually had, as daily diet, the luxuries of coffee and sugar; and I remember an instance of a gentleman of the Scotch-Irish stock marrying into one of those families. On his next trip afterward to market? Charleston?he brought home, for his new wife's larder, a full sack of coffee and a barrel of sugar. Ilis relatives looked on this as unparalleled extravagance. It was the amount of such stock usually laid in by a store! With forebodings, they prophesied "that woman would surely break Alec." Their habit was a cup of coffee for breakfast, on Sundayjnornings, and this, with its invariable accompaniment of fritters, wasa feast worthy a Utird. Practical jokes were much in vogue, and usually taken in good part, though occasionally an irrascible disposition felt like resenting them. Old Mr. Jamie Me?was an Irishman born, and a perfect gentleman, lie, though rich, never owned slaves, but had a family of free negroes in his employ, and a man-of-all-work?Jim Down?an Emerald Islander, too. lie always ate and slept in the kitchen, and was a dirtier speci....... ..? +! ,? I/, il,.m mnst nf flip II11T1I \Jl LUC J/C/mo uxsuiKf) uutii niw.'v ?/i v..~ blackamoors. One day Gen. Lacey went to ISIr. Daniel Williams', on Turkey Creek. The compliments of the clay being passed, Mr. Williams naturally inquired if there were any news afloat. "Yes ; Jim Downs is dead." "Jim Downs dead ? Poor old fellow ! I had not heard he was sick. Well ! what a life he led at Mr. ZVfc?'s ; as had as a negro. In fact Mc? kicked and cuffed him about worse than a negro. When did he die, and what was the matter ?" "Old Mc? came home in a frolic the other night, took a notion and made Downs wash i himself right clean all over, put on clean clothes, out and out, and, to top all, put him to bed on a clean feather bed. Next morning they found old Downs dead." A good laugh followed the exposition of the hoax. It was repeated from one to another until it came to old Mr. Mc?'s ears. He did not relish the sarcasm, and laid up a good tongue basting, at least, for Lacey, when he met him. A vendue in the neighborhood, not long after, afforded the opportunity. A drink or two taken, however, drowned malice and they were soon together, merry as boon companions. Parson McC'arra joined the group, and took more than one social glass. The whole party felt their liquor. Mc?, stupefied, fell dead drunk. Lacey's merry mischief in the ascendant, with the parson's help, lifted the prostrate Mc?on some plank, then composed his limbs, like those of a corpse for burial, placed 011 each eye a silver piece, and paid McCarra a silver dollar, to preach Mc?'s funeral sermon over him, which the latter did. When Mc? returned to con sciousness, and learned the sport he'd made for others, his wrath was loud and strong, and for weeks after he carried a gun to kill Lacey. However, auger died out before he met the General, and it all at last passed, in its proper light, as a drunken humor. I cannot say I commend thisscence above the doings of the present generation. It will perhaps, he hard for my readers to credit me, that two of the prominent actors were of the highest respectability?in fact, among the leading men of their community?considered themselves as gentlemen and were deemed so by every one. With McCarra it was different. His had been a higher vocation, and this he had forfeited by his own weakness. Not preserving the elevated standard of morals usually practiced by the clergy, which raised them so far above common men, they were revered as those to whom "it was given to be called the sons of God;" while he was deemed fit to give zest to an inebriate's gleeful fancy. He was a talented reprobate, and had he been true to himself and his calling, the record of his name might have been one of merit and honor, Instead of the mournful memoriam, "An unfaithful Shepherd." pro be continued.! jrtlisrcUanroiio Reading. EFFECT OF AIR 0$< BOILER EXPLOSIONS. Another theory to account for mysterious boiler explosionshas recently been advanced in the Journal de France, in which attention is drawn by experiments made by Prof. Donny, of (fhent, and which is certainly deserving of critical examination. The theory is based on the presence or absence of air in the water, and is thus described in the American Engineer: In this experiment ordinary water is placed in a clean glass tube, open at one end, and boiled long enough to drive away not only the air above the surface of the water, but all the air dissolved in the water. Then, when the upper partof the tube is full of pure steam, the mouth is hermetically sealed and the tube left to cool. When cool it is about half full of water, above which is vapor of water in a very low pressure. The tube being thus prepared, its lower end is plunged in a bath of glycerine or oil, which is gradually heated. No ebullition is visible in the tube when the temperature reaches 130? C. (234? F.) At 138? (240? F.,) however the column of water burst, as it were, in two with a sudden explosion, and part of it is flung against the sealed end with such force as often to break it open. Now, in industrial works it often happens that a boiler, having been filled with water, works for three or four hours without receiving a further supply; it may then be cooled down, and the next time it is wanted it may very probably be tired up again without starting the feed-pump, the water-level being judged sufficiently high. But the water in such a boiler will be in the same /.r>iirli + ir>n nc tliuf in the i p.. if. vviii bo deprived of alluir and consist of water below and vapor above, the latter, however, being probably at a much higher pressure than that of the water in the tube. This water has no free surfaces in its interior, due to the presence of bubbles of air, from which evaporation can take place. Consequently, as in the test-tube, there will be delay in vaporization, at least until the expansion become?* great enough to overcome the pressure of the superincumbent vapor, and then a sudden flashing into steam, which will be of the nature of an explosion, and may easily overcome the resistance of the boiler. The pressure thus attained may be very great. In the test-tube the pressure at the temperature of explosion (i:W? (J.) will be 8(i times what may be taken as the pressure of the superincumbent vapor in the boiler, as already observed. That !ii U^KI.. i??o pressure win piuuauiy ueuiuni mgua, auu the pressure of the explosion will probably be much higher also. Four eases of explosion are cited as examples of this mode of action. The first was at the mines of Hardinghem, where, during the putting in of some pumps, it was often necessary to stop the engine and bank up the fires for a time. It had been noticed that when this took place the pressure was very slow in rising after the resumption of firing. On one occasion, when this delay in recovering the pressure had been very long, the engineer, M. Obe, actually had liis eye on the pressure-gage, when he saw the needle first vibrate sharply and then rise by rapid steps to a very high pressure. At thesame moment there was a dull roar within the boiler, a slight shaking of the ground, and the safety valves opened wide, emitting clouds of spray and steam. An explosion had, in fact, occurred, but the boiler had been strongenough to resist it. Subsequent examination showed that there was no sediment in the boiler, or any other apparent cause for the occurrence. The second case was at St. Laurent, in a pair of boilers coupled together and provided with heaters (bouilleurs) below them, after a plan common in France. A stoppage had taken place, and on resuming work the engine man found it impossible to raise the pressure beyond three atmospheres, at which it had been standing. He, however, started the engine, but it had not run more than a few minutes before the cylinder and steam pipes were filled by a rush of priming water, a dull sound was heard, and there was a tremendous outburst from the safetyvalves. Here, again, nospeeialcause could i it 1 urliutli ma\f OC UlSCUVeieu 1UI UlC uttuiicm-c, ...1V fairly be set down to the cause here stated. In another case, at Roanne, the boiler had been tilled up an hour before stopping for dinner. When the time came to resume work the tire man found the water-level and pressure as they should be, and started accordingly, but in twenty minutes a serious | explosion occurred. Lastly, at Gusset, a boiler still hot from the work of the day be- j fore, was fired up at o.ffO A. 31., and exploded one hour after with terrible violence. In both cases subsequent inquiry failed to reveal any special cause for the disaster, for which the present theory seems to offer the best explanation. To avoid this source of danger it will be sufficient, as 31. Vignes points out, to make it a rule always to feed a boiler when it is first fired up after standing. This will have the doubleeffect of lowering the pressureand of facilitating: evaporation nv custriouting the mass of water in the boiler and charging it to some extent with bubbles of air. Meanwhile, the facts he has adduced are certainly sufficient to warrant a belief that we have here a key to many cases of boiler explosions which have hitherto been wrapped in mystery, and it seems very desirable that careful and precise experiment should be undertaken to prove or disprove the production, on a large scale, of the peculiar phenomena thus shown to exist in laboratory experiments. A STKAXlxfc .TlI.1Ajn.u itr n u at A letter published last week from Winchester, Va., says: One of the best known ladies of the Shenandoah Valley, Va., has turned out to be a man. Miss Elizabeth Rebecca Payne, daughter of the late Joseph Payne, seven miles from Winchester, who has lived for thirty-eight years as a lady, suddenly avowed herself to be, a few days since, a man, and startled James P. Reilly, Clerk of the County CGurt here, by applying for a license to marry a Miss Hinton, who had resided in the Payne family as a domestic. The lady who fired the heart of Mr. Payne with such passion as to compel him to throw off the habit of a lifetime and declare his sex is preposessin^ and forty years of age. The strange affair nas caused a decided sensation in the Shenandoah Val- ""*? ley and nothing else is talked about. Payne was brought up as a girl. No one ever questioned his sex, and his own avowal that lie was a man took away the breath of the community. Elizabeth Rebecca Payne was one of a family of six daughters; was brought up sis a woman, and was admitted into the Knuf cn/.ir>t?? iii mmnimv with t.hp nthcr members of the family, lie was always regarded as a somewhat masculine girl, but no one ever suspected he was a man. He was a most graceful and dashing equestrienne, and always challenged admiration as he frequently rode into Winchester with his habit and somewhat long hair trailing in the wind. He was one of the most widely known ladies in the valley. In addition to good birth and inherited acres he developed remarkable business talent for a woman when reverses in the family fortune rendered it necessary for some one to put a shoulder to the wheel. His sisters were distinguished for their culture and personal charms and several of them married prominent gentlemen. Rebecca Payne devoted himself to the management of a farm and to the supervision of a store which he had established at Rest, where he also held the appointment of post- ' mistress. He also dealt in cattle and horses and became an expert in that way. All his enterprises prospered and he has acquired considerable wealth. Determining to marry he threw off his dresses and applied for a license from the court at Winchester, but the astonished clerk, who, like everybody else, knew him as a woman, declined to issue a license for a woman to marry a woman. When Payne proved his real sex by producing the certificate of Dr. P. W. Maguire, of Winchester, the license was still refused on the ground that Virginia law compels a man to have given names which show his aov KafAwi Jiq non oof oc o mon hpfnrp the law. Payne then determined to have his name changed at the March term of the Circuit Court, which will meet on the first proximo. The affair is a nine days' wonder in the Shenandoah and has created more excitement than any event which has disturbed the social circles of the State for half a century. No explanation has been offered as to why he has masqueraded so long as a woman. Rumor has it that Payne and his sweetheart went to West Virginia yesterday and were married. GENERAL MAGRUDER. The St. Louis Republican says of the noted General Magruder who lies buried in an obscure spot in the graveyard at Houston, Texas: Magruder was a wonderful man. He stood six feet four inches in height, and had a form which the men envied and the women adored. His nerves were all iron. Foreign travel and comprehensive culture had given to his wit a zest that was always crisp and sparkling. He never lacerated. To the sting of the repartee he added the honey of the clover, fie could fight all day and dance all night. In the morning a glass of brandy and a good cigar renewed his > strength, and caused the cup of his youth to run over witft tne precious wine 01 neaiui and high spirits. He loved magnificent uniforms, magnificent horses, magnificent riders and magnificent women. Gifted and graceful in conversation, he was a pet in the boudoir and a logician in the barracks. He had studied French in Paris, Italian in Rome and Spanish in the halls of the Montezumas. His horsemanship was of the English kind, that is to say, not graceful, but impossible to be surpassed for firm riding and endurance. He wrote little love songs that were set to music; one of them, "Imogene," had in it the plaintive repinings of a soldier-love and the sad rhythm of burial bugles. In the Crimea he astonished the French officers by sleeping at the front with the chasseurs under fire. In Mexico he sent back to the archbishop a lady's perfumed glove he had found in 'his palace when the city was won, and in it a note which read : "It is pretty enougli to have belonged to a queen. Would she have pardoned me if I had appropriated it?" As the archbishop sent him next day a basket of wine, it is supposed that the fair owner of the glove must have looked leniently upon the handsome American soldier. Later, and he was riding with General Scott down the long street of Iturbide. General Garnett joined them and Magruder drew a little back for. his superiors to consult. A white puff of smokecurled out from an open window, a sudden report follow ed speedily and Garnett and horse went down together. An ounce ball intended for Scott, had broken Garnett's thigh and killed the charger. Fearing another tire, Magruder galloped to the side of his chief and covered his body with his own. The old man's eyes never dropped nor his voice changed an intonation. "How long will it take you to batter clown that house?" He spoke curtly to Lieutenant Magruder, pointing with a sweep of his finger to the nearest and from which the bullet came. "An hour by the watch, general." "Then open fire at point blank range, and leave not one stone upon another." "It was done, and well done; and those who saw Magruder soonest afterward noticed that he had another bar on his enaulettes, and had been made a captain. War was his element, the bivouac his delight, and the battle-field his perfect inspiration. A Drunkard Defends Himself.?A 1 *1'" /"L'lM/x.r A rl**r\sirtio COVC! fliof O IcllU issue U1 IIIC UUIUJ ^luiuiun cxyo IHUI. mini who was lined for drunkenness, in Lewiston,Illinois, appealed to the Circuit Court, and got a favorable verdict. His lawyer proved that the authorities of Lewiston had licensed these men to sell liquor and thereby make drunkards; that his client was one of the victims of the traffic, and that now rhey sought to injure him still more by lining him for falling into the trap. The jury very correctly decided that such a conspiracy to make men drunk, and then punish them for being drunk, was inconsistent and unjust. The above sets forth, in a clear light, the absurdity and infamous character of the license system. First open the door into the dram hole and induce men, with morbid appetites for strong drink, to come in, and then turn around and punish them, by line or imprisonment forgoing in and getting drunk, and while under the influence of the demon, doing | something that amounts to a violation 01 I a town ordinance or a State law, and presently hauling him up before the authorities and lining or imprisoning him. A Curious Calculation.?What is a billion '? The reply is very simple?a million times a million. This is quickly written, and quicker still pronounced ; but no man is able to count it. You may count 160 or 170 in a minute; but let us even suppose that you may go as far as two hundred; then an hour will produce 12,000, a day 280,000, and a year, or 36") days, 105,120,000. Let us suppose now that Adam, at the first beginning of his existence, had begun to count, and had continued to do so, and was counting still, he would not, even now, according to the usual supposed age of our globe, have counted near enough. For to count a million times a million would require 9,512 years, 34 days, 5 hours and 30 minutes.