Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist. proprietor. } % Jfitbcjpbeitf Jfamilji ftcfosppr: jfot tjjc ^promotion of \\t Ijolitical, jlocial, |f?riculfural ani Commercial interests of the ?outl). terms?$2.50 a year, in advance. " VOL. 30. YORKVILLE, S C., THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 1884. NO. 11. ^elected fortnr. NO SUCH THING AS CHANCE. BY MAURICE BARRY. Mv faith has taught me to believe 'There's no such thing in life as chance; And whether we rejoice or grieve, It rises not from circumstance. If happiness makes smooth my way, Or trouble on my pathway fall, I take them as they come and sayGod's will be done. He sends'tlieni all. I walk the busy, bustling street, On no particular business bent, And 'mid the crQwd some friend I meet, This is not merely accident. No idle chance my footsteps led, For He who notes the sparrow fall And counts the hair upon my head, With loving care designed it all. So in the rugged streets of life, With all their busy, bustling throng, 'Mid song of love or cries of strife, Some joy or sorrow jogs along And hails me when I least expect, I think?when halting at their call? A loving hand their ways direct. This is not chance. God sends it all. Jttt Original Jit0rg. Written for tlio Yorkville Enquirer. AFTER EIGHTEEN YEARS. CHAPTER III. Their marshalled lines stretched east and west. And fronted north and south, And distant salutation passed From the loud cannon month. It was the evening of August 28th, and Carroll, who at the appointed time had rejoined his regiment, was seated with several of his comrades around a camp-fire, which the chill of the night atmosphere rendered agreeable even at that season. Unusual excitement had prevailed foi many days in the camp, for stirring scenes were being enacted within a comparatively short distance, and a restless desire to take part in them filled the hearts of the whole regiment. Two nights before, the depot at Manassas Junction had been captured from the enemy by the Twenty-first North Carolina ancl the Twenty-First Georgia Regiments, assisted by a portion of Stuart's cavalry. On the 27th, the Confederates being reinforced by fresh troops, a sharp engagement had taker place with the Federals under BrigadierGeneral Taylor, of New Jersey, who had pushed forward to recover the captured stores, resulting in another victory for the Confederates. This was followed by another attack, again repulsed. But the enemy had now turned in full force upon General Jackson, who, having a much inferior number of men, retired from the Junction and took a position where he could more easily unite with Longstreet's approaching column. On the evening of the 28th, ensued a sanguinary battle, with heavy loss on both sides, lasting until after nightfall; and now, al last, the boom of the cannon had ceased and all was once more still. Anxiously the reports wereawaitedof the results of this last engagement, and when al hist it was ascertained that it, too, had been successful, there was universal joy and congratulation, though it was a victory dearly bought by many valuable lives. HUIIlHli l-wvrl ho 1 '{yh oned, when swallowed up in the consideration of the one essential point aimed at? victp^y wonder when our turn will come ?" re^^marked a good-humored, dashing young private, named Ellery, who had been closeIvnllipd to Carroll during the Virginia cam paign. I am getting tired of keeping still and hearing the fun in the distance." "So am I," replied Carroll, to whom the remark was addressed, sick and tired. Anything is better than inaction ; it gives one too much food for thought." "And your thoughts lately don't seem to have been pleasant ones," said Ellery. "You've had the blues, Gray, ever since you came back to camp. It's a pity you went home." "Yes, I agree with you," rejoined Carroll. "It is a pity." He puffed away at his pipe, and continued for some time to stare moodily at the fire. "I say, Ellery, he resumed in alower tone after a time, "I have a favor to ask you. Come a little way with me,and we can talk about it." The pair rose, and strolled away to a short distance, where they might converse unheard. "You know something about my part ol the country," commenced Carroll, after a little hesitation. "Now I have an idea I may never go back there again, and if that should be the case, I would like you to be the bearer of a little package to some of my people, when you get back to Carolina?iI won't take you very much out of your way." "'Rear a letter and a token to some distant friends of mine. For I was born at Ringen, fair Riitgcn on the Rhine,' '* quoted Ellery in a sing-song, mock-sentimental tone. "What is the matter with you, old follow? Does a presentment haunt you to-night ?" "Rather?and foolish as it may be, I cannot shake it off. I have never felt so before and I am half inclined for that reason ti believe in this. Of course it may be nothiug, but all the same, we'll suppose it comes true, and 011 that account I want to make this little arrangement. It won't bothei you much." "It won't bother meat all. Rut, my deai hoy, have you taken into consideration the fact that the chances are quite as much against my return as against yours? If si stray shot puts my homeward journey out of the question, what becomes of your commission?" "Well, we must take the chances, oi course; and as it is nothing very valuable that I mean to entrust you with, it won't matter very much if it doesn't reach its destination. But you are the kind of fellow that will get home all right, Jack; youi luck will take you through everything. Not that I would consider it unlucky to be shot in battle; as far as 1 am concerned, the idea is not disagreeable?on the contrary, it would be about the best thing that could happen to me. Life does not look so pleasant that I am anxious for a long lease of it; and what quicker or better ending could it have than one of this sort?" "Always provided one wasn't mangled and left to die in lingering pain?of thirst, perhaps, with the sun scorching your brainsand drying up the marrow in your bones, I'll tell you what, Gray, something has gone wrong with you, or you wouldn't talk like this. I never knew you so desponding before." "I am not desponding, Ellerv; I am perfectly cheerful, I assure you. Hut it's well to look forward?to provide against contingencies. Therefore, supposing the one of u.* is taken and the other left, I nut this in your charge; "he took a sealed envelope from his breast and gave it into Ellerv'.* hand?"and you'll repair straight to my uncle, if you please, and hand it to him, and say I sent it with my love; and that's all there is about it." "All right, said Ellerv. "T'll have the pleasure of returning it to you before yot go home. Any how?" "Hark!" said Carroll holding up hi? hand. The sound of horses' feet, rapidlj approaching, broke on the stillness of the night. "A message to the camp," excitedly exclaimed Ellery. "Perhaps our turn ha; come at last. And the two friends hurriet back together to join their comrades. By midnight everything was in activ< preparation for a march. All indicationpointed to a serious struggle on the follow i ing day, and Carroll's regiment was called 11 : into requisition. He had token part in s several snarp frays before, but not the less ! t did his heart beat high now with excite- 1 mentand anticipation, almost as if some- s thing delightful was in store. Orders were 1 j given that the men should take a brief, u ' season for repose, but though he closed his i \ i eyes he could not sleep. Visions of Warner 1 i Grove and its occupants haunted him, and j s the figure of Marion floated continually be- s ; fore him. They had parted in anger; the c : brief tie between them had been dissolved i 1 by a few cruel, unguarded words, and the t I actual distance of material earth that sepa- 1 rated them was nothing compared to the a I immeasurable gulf which those words had i wrought, putting the past and present as i ! widely asunder as though no link of love t ' had ever joined them together. Reproach, t , hasty perhaps, on his part, accusations too a ! rashly made, had been met with haughty re- 1 i sentment on hers; too proud even to offer t ! explanation or excuse when so unjustly t blamed, she had unhesitatingly dissolved 1 their engagement, and under this condition s they had parted, Carroll's short bright e dream dispelled by a stern reality which s filled his heart with bitterness and made 1 life seem a blank. c ' "Well, better so," he thought. "If a r Yankee bullet finishes me to-morrow, as I hope it may, she won't need to grieve so c much as she would have done if she had t remained my betrothed wife. And yet, j gracious heaven! can a mad, ureasonable fit e mnlrA i.m.K n /I! non C, UI llllgt'l ICIUI^ liJiirwu sum tunuvi^iiu.?iuu v. she really cease to care? Ah, she never a truly loved nie. I was a fool to think she ? did ; to persuade her into thinking so herself. I wish I had never got that unlucky a ' furlough?then at any rate I could have i died in the blissful belief that her heart was a mine." With these and many other weary reflec- c tions he tossed upon his hard couch, until i the summons came to be up and stirring?a f I summons never more eagerly welcomed and t i obeyed. t I The twenty-ninth day of August saw a 1 close, obstinate contest, the conflicting for- ^ . ces sometimes delivering their fire at a dis- t . tance of only a few dozen paces. The Con- 1 ' federates, animated by tne knowlege of t their late repeated success, were resolved j ! that nothing should take from them the t ; honors of this day, and set their faces with s srrim determination towards victory; while . the Federals seemed bent on winning their s ' revenge and turning the obstinate contest i into a final triumph for themselves. Now t ' forward, now backward, wavered the long f i lines of battle, the blue aud gray almost s mingling, so near together did they press, i r Once the enemy, with sudden fury, penetrated a space between Oregg's brigade and tJiat of General Thomas. Down, down, I ' went many a gallant Confederate beneath 1 their feet. Shall this onslaught turn the I 1 tide in their favor? For a brief while it f > seems so; but with equal fury and force the 1 . Confederates sweep forward to the rescue ; r back, back, they press the advancing horde, 1 with a steady strength that makes resistance 1 1 vain. The day shall be ours, it boots not 1 ' that long hours of stubborn conflict are still 1 ' in store for us. The day f^iall be ours?hope s beats high in gallant hearts and shines in r resolute eyes; in the supreme excitement of 1 ' that glorious charge, there is no room for t i doubt or misgiving, no leisure for one sad ; recollection or gloomy thought! Let sweet- r ^ hearts be unkind and true lovers deserted, e all follies such as these are cast to the winds, 4 for a brief while, by more engrossing claims, f yet in the rush and whirl, for one swilt mo- rJ ment, before Carroll's mental vision the t face and form of Marion seems to rise, clear f and plain amid the smoke of battle, and he c hoars her voice above the din softly utter-1 f ing nis name, it is ms iit?t cwunciuus men, fleeting as a dream; lie is dimly aware of a f ' sudden blinding shock, is borne down by t the resistless advance, and knows no more. For long hours the battle continued to e rage, until, weary and exhausted, the troops ? at nightfall were compelled to rest, the Fed- I erals having retreated to a strong position, which they held with a large force. a Another day of fierce conflict past?anoth1 er night come, with kindly healing, to bring rest to the worn contestants?to many, alas! ( 1 rest that will be broken never again. On the battle-field lie many a mangled and \ 1 disfigured form ; hearts, that in the morning 1 bounded with eager hope and anticipation, 1 now forever stilled; eyes that flashed with s 1 resolve or sparkled with excitement, now a sealed, or staring blindly, with awful, fixed intensity, upward at the bluesky?the peace- a ful, quiet sky, whence the silent stars look a down with their pure gaze on those poor 1 children of earth. 1 1 Among the rest, is stretched the form of Carroll Gray, left there as dead among the c dead. A little wound showson the forehead, ^ whence a small stream of blood has slowly e ' trickled, and left a stain. He is not other- t wise disfigured, and his fair, handsome face 1 , is tranquil in its repose, as though he slept. Nothing to him now are the stirring impul ses and high thoughts that animated him so lately; the echoes of battle have died out s ; from his ears as completely as though they ^ 1 lmd never sounded there; far, far away from t his numbed senses all human sights and ^ ; sounds are removed, leaving a complete ?j blank?the blank of oblivion, or of death ! s It is not death, though to a hurried eye it '] , might well appear so. Lying as he does c amid hundreds of stiffened forms, white and j . motionless as the rest, without the power to i stir or give sign of feeble, lingering vitality, t. t it is not to he wondered at that he isalready ( j reckoned among those whose part in the (! . great struggle is over. The night passes, r ( | and with morning come awakening signals ( > I of strife renewed, but he does not hear ] . them ; the sultry hours of the day wear on, ( j the old scenes are enacted again, but be I ? ? knows nothing of what is happening; his L comrades are far away now, for the tide of \ battle has swept onward and he is left be- ,, - hind. . t . With the return of night, while the Fed- a i ends were still retreating and our forces still 'r l in pursuit, came gathering clouds, and then s t a heavy down-pour of rain. With the first $ . dash of the cold drops in his face, Carroll felt { a thrill of returning cousciousness stir his t f being. There was a slow, painful struggle c ? back to reality, out of the deep gulf of dark- e ; nessand nothingness in which he had been ^ j buried, and then he awoke to the knowledge f ami horror of his position. Alone, deserted, , I with corpses for his only companions?una- x ble to move, out of human reach, beyond f > human aid?left there to die an awful, lin- , . gering death?was this the end he had long- j i [ ed for ? A sickening terror tilled his soul, a [ ; wild, ineffectual cry for help rose to his lips; ( . he made an effort to move?in the effort, his <j : ' hand touched a dead face close by him, and J | he fainted away again. * j j By and by, however, he recovered from c [! this second swoon, less deadly than the first, c , | Nature was beginning to re-assert her pow- j j > er, and to give some faint hint of returning I ] , strength. Weak and dizzy as he was, he ] * > managed by slow degrees to drag himself to j ( : a little distance from his present position, x : though in the darkness he could only feel, j < not see what he was about. The rain had f . drenched him to the skin, and while it had r] I cleared its faculties, it seemed to freeze him | i . to the core with an Arctic chill. After sev- j ; I eral hours, it slackened somewhat, and the j , I clouds began to break; and at last?oh relief! 1 1 * * - i_i? *>.. .* nf I \ > j beyonu description :?me msigiu^ uum m j 51 morning lightened the eastern sky. i j lie liad not yet made any attempt to rise; ( j he wondered now if it would be possible for j I him to stand. If he could once get on his j feet, he would be able to form some idea of ; j the extent of his injuries, and the chances of i | his escaping from this loathsome place. He got himself upon his hands and knees, and 3 i crawled a few paces, then lay down again, r! utterly exhausted. At tnis rate, he must ?I surely die ; he could not reach any habita tion, and nobody would come to him?he - might as well abandon hope at once. s1 Suddenly, while lying with half closed 1 j eyes and despair at his heart, he rememberj ed his canteen, containing a small supply of i whisky. He had forgotten that he had it 5 about him ; it might save him yet. He c - found the precious liquor?precious in that I lour of dire need?and eagerly drank i .mall quantity. There was out liltie then o drinlc, and he wanted to use it as sparing y as possible, with a view to future neccs ity. It revived him wonderfully, and gav< lim new courage. He would not abandor ill hope yet, for the instinct of self preser ration was strong with him now, though on y a few hours before he had fancied himsel o ready to die. He remembered having een some scattered farm-houses at no greai listauce from the battle field, and though t possible he might make his way to one o hese. It was aquestion, of course, whethei lis scanty strength would hold out, but a: ill events the attempt must be made. How painful, how weary, how almosi inpossible seemed his progress! Manj imes, as he feebly crept along, was h< empted to abandon the effort in despair md simply give himself up to his fate. H< mew not how many hours had passed since he commencement of his undertaking? hey seemed like ages, and the sun wai ligh in the heavens and sending down i teady blinding heat, before he reached the idge of a little wood where he could fine hade and shelter. With a groan of relie le sank down to rest beneath a spreading iak tree, leaning his dizzy head against it! ough trunk and closing his eyes. Presently he was attracted by the sounc if running water, and being parched witl hirst resolved to try and lind it. So corn rletely exhausted was he, however, by th< 'xertions he had already made, that farthei iffort seemed impossible?he rose, totterec i, few steps, then fell insensible, to tin ,'round. A few minutes later, there was a rustling mong the leaves; footsteps were approach ng, and directly the figures of a young gir ind a still younger lad came in sight. They were coarsely dressed, but the fac< if the girl betokened some degree of refine nent. She was undeniably pretty, witl laxen hair curling loosely beneath her darl lonnet, a fresh blooming color, and small hough irregular features, wearing an ex session of childlike simplicity. The bo^ vas uncouth enough, with a freckled coun enance and rough, sandy locks, yet the like less between them indicated that they wen irother and sister. Each carried a stoin ug, which it was their mission to fill fron he spring, whose refreshing murmur hat ounded so tempting to Carroll's ears. "Hal-Jo !" suddenly ejaculated the boy frt-tii-vitTrr chnrf onrl uoi'/incr liivj cnilirifln U..VT. V, CW.V, ? f, - t on's arm, he continued, lowering Ins voic< o an excited whisper, "Look, sissy, there': .dead Yank, under the tree yonder." "What??where?" rejoined the girl, star ng apprehensively around. "There?there; don't you see his boots' aid one arm stickin' out. 1 Ie must be dead reckon?let's go see." "Oh ! no, don't?don't, Jackey! Let's g( >ack home?I'm scared of him," was tin Tightened reply, as the girl turned tremb ingly away. But her brother held her fast "Say, don't be foolish, sissy; if he's deac ie can't do us no harm?and I don't believi ie ? Yank, neither?now I see a piece o lis coat. Why, heatn'?, sissy, sure enoughie'sa Confed, sure's anything! Don't yot ee his uniform? and maybe he ain't dead leither! Come along!" and relinquishing lis hold of her arm, Jacky dashed forwan o investigate. "Sissy, come here?he's alive?I seen hin novo his finger!" he shouted ; and prompt id by curiosity stronger than her fear 'sissy" slowly advanced on tip-i:oe, pre )ared to run back on the slightest alarm Che sight of Carroll's white face appealec o her feminine sympathy with irresistibh orce, and pity quite swallowed up even ther feeling as she bent over the prostrati orm, exclaiming: wn, .i?c?vtv, urn tne a pretty man: poo ellow!do you think he is still alive?do yot hink maybe he'll get well ?" "Oh, I reckon he will?he's only iround d," said Jacky hopefully. "Say, sis, yot :o up to the houses and call Granny; shc'l enow what to do." "No, you go," said the girl. "I'll staj mu Wilton nun tin you come duck." "You won't be 'fraid ?" "No, 110. Make haste, Jacky, and beji branny to come." "Well; and say, sis, s'pose you take sonn vater and wash his face; dab it on his fore lead, you know, kind of easy; maybe it'l iringiiim round?like the other woundct oldier, don't you know, what faintet iway ?" "Yes, I know. I'll try," replied sis; ant is Jack bounded off. she ran to the snrine: ind having filled with water a gourd whicl ay there, she brought it to where Carrol ay and commenced to lave his brow. Thus it was that when, under the effec >f her ministration, he opened his eyes, h< vondered languidly to find a sweet ant arnest girl's face bending over him, and ir he first confused moment of consciousness lis lips murmured the word "Marion !" [to be continued.] wmmmmmmammmtmmmmmm Mount Etna.?The mountain was in i tate of eruption on February 11 th. Almos ixty eruptions of Mount Etna are recorded he most notable within the last liundrec ears being those of 171)2,1811, 1819 and 1882 rhe first of these continued an entire year, the trcams of lava then being thirty feet deep luring the last one mentioned, there open d on the sides of the mountain many flam ng mouths in the midst of tremendous ixplosions and convulsions, prodigious dis harges of ashes, cinders and lava, whicl iverran miles of cultivated fields and threat ned the town of Uron with ruin. Tin iver of lava was then twenty miles long iver a mile wide, and forty feet deep. Tin ava which in 1609 overtopped the walls o 'atania may still be seen coiling over theii ummit like a frozen torrent. On that ocasion much of the city and 15,000 of it: nhabitants were destroyed. The earlics :ruption mentioned in history was 470year: )efore the Christian era. Forty years latei i vast volume of water is reported to hav< ushed down the mountain side. It was upposed to have come from the crater flowing, apparently, the connection be ween the volcano and the sea. A grea ruption occurred in 1802, when might} louds of ash-grey dust were expelled, cov ring the whole surrounding country. Fron wo new mouths on the eastern flank issuet orrents of lava, one moving toward Zafi'ara la, the other towards Glarra. Onestrean vas two miles broad, in some places 17( eet deep, flowed GOO feet in an hour ordi airily, but when it approached abrupt cliff: t dashed over like a fiery cascade. An eruption occurred last year, beginning ?n February 28, which lasted until Marci >1, when it ceased. A few days afterward: l severe shock of earthquake took place ai iiposto, and two slight shocks at Catania iii the slope of the mountain. The summi if Etna, being above the line of vegetation iresents, unless covered with snow, a met tiu'holy waste of lava, ashes, lap illi, ant coriie, from the centre of which, in r lesolate plain, ascends the principal cone Vrouncl the base of the mountain is a pro luctive region of corn, olives, grapes ant ruits, from three to eleven miles broad rhe eruptions of Etna are frequent am m posing. Human Beasts ok Bukdkx.?At last tin iroblem of our school days is solved, says i Mexican letter, and we have discovers iow Cortez accomplished theoverland trans lortation of that historic fleet of ships, buil in the coast and borne over the mountain: o the lake of Mexico. Nearly all the laboi 11 this queer country is performed by man lower, few carts or horses being employed A'e meet human beasts of burden carrying vardrobes 011 their heads, pianos 011 tlieii >acks, or huge blocks of building stone witl ipparrentease. Mexican Indians who trans lort goods from the interior are so trainee hat they will tire the strongest horse ii iqual time and distance, caVrying from 101 o 150 pounds upon their backs. It is ar ictual fact that, after making a long trij hus heavily loaded, they fill their basket: vitli stones 011 the return, their strained ant listorted muscles requiring the accustomec mrden. iJipsccUinteous Reading. For tli? Yorkvillc Enquirer. i j METHODIST CENTENNIAL. To the preachers and people of Chester Dis"j Irict, S. C. Conference: Dear Brethren and ; Friends: As you lire aware, this is the Cen[ | tenary year of organised Methodism in P i America. Our church was organized at the f. Conference held in Baltimore, beginning December 24, 1784. In the same nistoric f city where we were organized, the Centenc nial celebration will be observed next C'hristj. mas. In conformity with a plan provided " lor uy our uenerai uomerence, auu now [ being methodised and set in order, we are J expected, as an important part of the great > brotherhood, to adjust ourselves for harmol nious, earnest, and fruitful action. ."The J leading object of this Centenary observance, " is the spiritual improvement of our people, 3 by reviewing God's signal mercies during * the hundred years of our organic life, and r by calling out in suitable monumental form J. our gratitude for these blessings." Hence, 1 the primary thing to be looked to, in our > preaching and prayers, and in our manner 3 of life, is a genuine revival in all our charg. es and churches. Let us labor for a great 1 awakening among sinners, the conversion of 1 thousands, and the upbuilding of the church ' in all her interests. It is expected that we 5 contribute our full share toward raising "if possible, during the year 1884, the sum of ' two millions of dollars, to be applied equal3 ly to the cause of Education, Church Extension and Foreign Missions, save where do? nors shall give special directions to their ' gifts." With due regard for "Connectional" 1 objects, in accordance with a resolution of our Conference, we would stress with all i possible emphasis, the endowment of Wofl'ord College, and the needed relief for Col lumbia Female College. c To facilitate the special exercise of liber' ality contemplated, and hoped for as a suit" able centennial ottering, and a fitting ex* pression of gratitude to God for his wondrous goodness to us as a Church, we recoml mend and urge our preachers to clear the * way, by securing ourConference collections, J as soon as possible, and in full, by cash or | subscription. The DistrictCommittee, after 1 a careful and prayerful consideration of the subject, aided by suggestions elicited from ? wise and practical friends of the movement, ~ agreed upon the following resolutions, which I we send forth to the preachers and people 5 of the Chester District, hoping and praying for harmonious action, and the largest results: , Resolved, 1st. That a Committee; be organ i/.ed in each charge to consist of the pastor,' ' with at least one man and one woman from each society, who shall plan and arrange for 5 such services as may be deemed best to fur3 ther the purposes of the Centennial celebra tion. 2nd. That where it is impracticable to obl serve the fourth Sunday in August?the day - designated by the Conference?the 3rd Quarf terly meeting be utilized at a central place, - for each charge, under the direction of the ' Presiding Elder, the pastor and hiscommiti tee, and such other services, at such time as ? may be judged best for the cause. I -Irrl Thnt, snoninl rofrard shall be had to "Children's Day," in such manner as may 1 be deemed by the pastor and his committee, - most promising of good results. A. J. CAUTIIEX, ) J. M. CARLISLE, \ Com. W. T. I). COUSAR, 1 '' 2 Correspondence of ihe Yorkville Enquirer. 7 ? 3 LETTER FROM NEYV ENGLAND. f'pnvvvrT r.TOn., n "WKot tdv>U a native South Carolinian in the "Nutmeg 1 State," of Old New England, write for the perusal of the readers of yourexcellentjournal ? The motive which should prompt all f correspondence for the press, answers something which shall either edify or amuse. Your readers may congratulate themselves : upon the fact that I have deferred writing so long, as the length of a descriptive letter depends very much upon the length of time ' one has been amid the scenes and circum1 stances of which he writes. I read, a few ' weeks since, the correspondence?not less j than three ordinary columns?of a young lawyer-tourist, from New Haven, through South Carolina. He wrote much about the 1 novel sights. I am now satisfied that I have , seen and heard quite as much that hasstruck 1 me as being new, and that I could have ' written, four weeks ago, not less than three } columns of novelties. But, from that facul1 ty of human nature by which we not only KnnAnno i*onnn/ ! 1 nrl Kilt ilfinnvtruvKvl tn M'llflt I i ucvv/ut^ ivu;uvuv;u uuv ?ovu.nvinv\? n# ?? ?*?%v [ at first seems even an innovation, I have r come to regard the country, with its people 1 and their habits of life, alter the manner of I a son of Connecticut soil. .So that points ? which I, at first, regarded almost indispensable to tbis letter seem hardly capable of eliciting any attention from friends in YorkviHe. What then shall I write? Shall I i make my first head t NOTES OF TRAVEL? j The comfortable "Pullman sleeper," which took us through, from Chester, S. C., to Washington, without change, and the ' schedule, which put u.s in New York twen ty-six hours after leaving Chester, via the [ Virginia Midland route, were heartily ac" ceptable to one anxious to make hisdestina-1 ' tion. Hut there is still a vivid recollection j " of the unpleasant experience at Charlotte. Though Chester has some reason to boast of ] her railroad facilities, yet we could purchase no through ticket there; but the traveler II must wait for ticket and the checking of bagj. gage until his arrival at Charlotte, where ! the arrangement is just about as disagreea-1 j ble as the fertility of invention of all the 1 . railroad soions, working to mat enu, coum i ? make it. Fancy a perfect stranger rushing j , out of the car, in the darkness of night, i ' across three tracks, where there stands as I many trains impatiently steaming, search- j ing for the ticket office, returning to lind his | I sleeper has been attached to another train, j ' jumping on a train of cars already in motion | II without any certainty as to being right?his ! r j baggage left behind, and, after this, finding ' _ that he has only been allowed ten minutes, | " I instead of twenty, for the work of half an ; , hour. In such a situation was your correspondent at Charlotte. Though breathing " out threatnings against the corporation, j , which would thus impose upon an inexpe- j rienced traveler, I still enjoyed, with my i " kind friends, 3\Ir. and Mrs. Dickson, return- i ' ing to Brooklyn from their visit to York-; p ville. our possible predicament from leaving ! ? our baggage behind. To my mind there i , was a serious probability that the baggage- j ? masters, whose knowledge of their work , did not seem to have reached perfection, ; would so arrange, that, when Mrs. 1). began to attire herself for ''the reception" the fol[ lowing evening, she would find herself in j possession of the ecclesiastical wardrobe, and when the parson should prepare himself for a New Haven pulpit on Sunday, he " would have naught but the articles neeessa[ ry to the success of the reception. The fates, not the railroads, be thanked that the dileni-1 j j ma was avoided. Under notes of travel 1 j I shall not impose upon you my impressions [ j as we were hurried along over the memora- j 4; ble hills and valleys around Charlottesville, i ' Manassas and Fairfax ; as we looked upon , the brazen star, which marks the spot where Garfield fell, on the carpet in the ladies' l waiting room of the great depot at Wash. ington ; and as we passed through the prin5 r\f tlwi no?df/\l Kiif lna\rn ' | 11 pill il|>ui iinuum ui nit mm these to comment on THE WEATHER. r, I3efore leaving South Carolina I was much r comforted by assurances, from the weather-1 i wise, that, while mutability characterized - Southern weather, there was perfect imi- j 1 formity in the north?the cold promising to 1 stay, and in no waydisappointing the inhab) itant. lie it said, again and again, that 1 there never was a greater mistake. I have ) yet to find a climate subject to more sud > den, or more extensive fluctuations, than 1 that of New England. For example about 1 four weeks ago, Sunday night closed a de- j I lightful day, reminding me of one of Caro lina's Indian Summer days in December, while on Monday morning at 7 o'clock the mercury ran down to 12? below zero. Old residents here say it has been a long time since the weather has been as cold as it was in January ; and I unhesitatingly pronounce it the coldest I ever experienced. Doubtless New Englanders suffer as little from the severity of the weather as those who live in a warmer climate. Their houses, the manner of construction and furnishing of which I hope to write you hereafter, J are models of comfort, and we are protected from the cold outside by comfortable clothing and the silk handkerchief worn around 1 the neck under the over-coat collar. I have j stood the cold much better than I have j stood up on the ice, which has covered our roads and walks three or four weeks sue-J cessively, causing both the righteous, and j wicked to "stand in slippery places." The j Connecticut IiiVer which flows quite near j has been covered with not less than eigh- j teen inches of ice, stopping all navigation, I and making safe crossing for both pedestrians and teams. Just now we are in the midst of areal "New England Snow Storm." j About eighteen inches of snow fell on Tues-j (lay. Yesterday we had an intermission,; and many were rejoiced to behold the face i of the sun ; but to-day the beautiful snow, j in its spotless, quiet, majesty has been falling until the ground now must have a covering of white not less than two feet deep, and the merry jingle of the sleigh bells is heard on every hand. Judging from present appearance it will he yet many days before the sun, returning from his far oft voyaging, shall call from their icy beds, and warm into life and light the roots, and tender flowers, and grasses. There is yet no indication of a swelling bud. The snow and ice bring to New Knglanders enjovable SI'OUTS. Racing on the ice on the river has been popular to those who have been willing to subject their horses to such an ordeal. There is always something so fascinating about the jingle of the sleigh-bells, and the liunaio roDe, mat your correspouueiu na? i pledged himself not to refuse even oneoppor-1 tun i ty for joi ni ng one of those parties on pleas-: ure bent. My young friends skate w ith ease and grace ; have evidently wished to have me stir up their pure minds, by way of remembrance, of what Dickens has graphically written touching the performances of Mr. Winkles with skates on ice ; and have been not a little amused that I should prefer wearing my skates on my hands. I have now realized why authors of readers which I have used in the South have made their hooks somewhat unacceptable to Southern teachers and pupils, since I find that almost every child has its sled, and never seems to be happier than when sliding down these Connecticut hills. These authors are of Northern birth and growth, and have natu rally prepared their books for children who are accustomed to such winter sports. Fishling has been during the winter, a popular and remunerative sport. A friend goes from my boarding house quite frequently, and about as frequently supplies perch, and pickerel, for our menu. lie goes not forth, I however, after the manner of the 8. C.. I angler, in his piscatorial pursuits, armed with the inevitable rod and oyster-can or earth worms, but with such appliances as will enable him, standing upon the icy bed of the river, or pond, to operate as many lines as he pleases at one time, with which J he decoys and brings through holes made in the ice the members of the finny tribe. But lest your readers may think I am mistaken as to the length of time I have been here, and I write as one still unaccustomed to manners and methods, IdeferothI er thouehts and minrpssjnne until another | time. Tiros. E. Gilbert. Tin-: Ioxokant Jrnou.?1The supreme court of Tennessee has recently rendered a decision on the subject of jurors that will be welcomed by all, as it is certainly in accord with the spirit of the law and with + 1.^ fKr, Iif.wif imil rvnrwl IIIC [Hiuuv; OCIllllllUllt- <iiiu 4.11V |/iavuvai ?,v/\/\t sense of the age. Heretofore, the law lias placed a premium 011 ignorant jurors. The man who read newspapers or books, who mixed with the world, and, consequently, knew the current news of the day, was regarded as an improper juror, and one that could not serve; while the ideal juryman was deemed to be the man who was illiterate and uneducated, could not read or write, and knew nothing of the crime, or, indeed, anything else. The issue in this case, presented in Tennessee, was as follows: A juror upon a trial for murder declared that he had read a full account of the crime in the papers, and had formed an opinion regarding it, but believed that this would yield to evidence. This juror, the supreme court decided, was a good one. This decision is very similar to one recently rendered by the supreme court of Indiana, which declared that reading an ac-1 count of a crime in a newspaper wasnogood ! reason why a juror should be unfit to serve in that case. This is manifestly the drift of judicial decision of late, and numerous other courts have held that knowledge of the details of a crime is not incompatible with jury service, and the principle is now being recognized in our own courts. The ignorant juror, the man who can not road and post himself on the events of the day, should be excluded from service instead of encouraged, as he has been. Intelligence rules in everything except in the jury box, where, hitherto, a premium has been placed upon illiteracy. We hope to see all the courts follow in the footsteps of the Tennessee tribunal. It will be in the interest of good verdicts, and will do much to prevent the escape and secure the conviction of criminals. Vixks ox IIorsEs.?It is generally supposed that vines make houses damp, for which reason there are not nearly as many cottages and houses beautified with vines as there would be. It is only when the climbers are allowed to cover the eaves and obstruct the gutters, or find their way under the shingles that they become objection- j able, and these conditions, should of course, i be guarded against. The Gardner1* Month-1 It/1* remarks in this respect are taken: | "Vines should always be kept cut down be-1 low the roof. It is a little trouble to do j this once a year, but we cannot even get our j shoes blacked without some trouble. Those ! who know how beautil'uly and cosy looks a j vine covered cottage will not object to the few hours labor it requires to keep vines from stopping up the gutter. Vines really I make a dry wall. The millions of rootlets by which "they adhere to the wall absorb water and examination will prove a vine covered wall to be as dry as an old bone. | * J ^ - 1 /./.i i U11C great advantage ui a vine euveicu cul- : tage not often thought of, is that it is cooler ! in summer and warmer in winter than when there is nothing but a mere naked ! wall. Absent Minded.?In the South Caroli-1 na conference they told the following of the I Rev. Mr. Dunwody: "After his superan-1 uation he lived at Cokesbury, and preached j in a church two or three miles in the coun- j try. A negro boy brought his horse on ! Sunday morning and hitched him to a tree j in the yard, Doctor Dunwody took his sad-1 die on'his shoulder, and his umbrella and j switch in his hand, and went to the tree and saddled his horse and rode away to ! church. One Sunday morning the boy was j tardy. The time coming for the aged min-' ister to go, he gathered his saddle, umbrel- j la and switch and going to the tree, his I horse not being there, he walked away to I the church, carrying his saddle. Going j to the tree where he usually hitched his horse, he hung his saddle; took his umbrella and switch into the church preached, and, coming out, took his saddle on his shoulder and went home." To be nameless in worthy deeds exceeds an infamous history. TheCanaanitish woman lives more happily without a name than Merodias with one ; and who would not rather have been the penitent thief than Pilate ? Jtottps of ?ocal pstotg. I REMINISCENCES OF YORK, j BY I>r. MAURICE A. MOORE. From the Yorkville Enquirer, 1S70. It has not been long enough since he passed away from among the living, for me | to give a sketch of Dr. William Moore; nor j would it be becoming in mo to record a panegyric over his merits. Enough of our ! people remember his purity of purpose, i singleness of heart and strict integrity of character. Always devoted to his profession, singularly tenacious of the dignity due to tlie calling, and ever impatient of any jest ortriek infringing on his practice?these will be recognized as strong traits of his character by those of the community who knew him. All Fool's Day, which has just passed, brings to mind a practical joke of forty-five years ago in Yorkville, of which Dr. Moore and a young man named Kuykcndal, were the victims. Jack Kuykendal was a hatter?industrious, sober, and much liked in our midst. A marked characteristic of his might be j called?so strongly woven in his daily life? | was his devotion to an uncle living near Yorkville. lie could hold no conversation with any one without quoting the opinions of "Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal," or holding up his example. Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal said this, or did that, was the burden of his song; and from his acts or ideas, in the devoted nephews' mind, there was no appeal. The first of April had drawn near sun-down, and no fun marked its anals. A mischievous few conceived an idea to scotch its dullness, and forthwith executed it. The proverbial affection of Jack Kuykendal for "Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal"' and the ultra respect in which Dr. Moore held the dignity of the profession, were the strings to be played on. A negro was instructed to go to the shop where the former worked, call to him from the street, through a plank ripped off on that side of the building (the door opened round on the other side into the yard) and tell him his Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal was very ill with the colic?about to die? and he wanted him to get Dr. William Moore and come out with him as quickly as he could. Young Kuykendal threw down his work, ran out of the door, round to the street as quickly sis he could, to ask the messenger some questions; but the man haddisappeared. Suspecting nothing for a moment, he soon found Dr. Moore, and while he got ready, ran to borrow a horse for himself to vidp lFo piiine in me?I was about to ride myself. lie went to some one else?his horse was very lame; a third?his animal was out of town. In desperation, heapplied to old Mr. Jimmy Ross?his landlord?for it was well known he would never lend his horse. But moved by Jack's entreaties, distress and ill-success in other quarters, to the surprise of the jokers, he succeeded in getting the horse. Soon he and Dr. Moore started at full speed. A little beyond the present residence of II. F. Adiekes, some one was stationed to hail them on the road to enquire where they were going. They were in such haste they hardly checked their steeds to reply. "Isn't it the first of April?" with a little leer, called out the initiated interlocutor. I)r. Moore took the alarm, came to a full pause, and wanted to know how Jack got the news of "Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal's" illness. A few words of explanation aroused suspicion, and they turned their horses' heads and rode back, if they needed more, the amused f:ieo? of the fun rpoVere Hid tbeirenntVlont^ which greeted them on the street as they went back, certified to the hoax. Then came the good part?Dr. Moore's indignation and Kuykendal's delight. Not one picayune did the latter care for being an April Fool, in his relief that there was nothing tho ninttei* with "Uncle Jonathan Kuykendal." Stanhope Sadler, who always, and still is, I believe, a practical joker, frequently got up good ones; but one first of April, quite early in the morning, the tables were turned and the joker was caught in a trap like his own making. About sun-up, some one stopped him on the street and told him Sheriff Henry wanted to see him, immediately on business. Sadler forthwith went around to Henry's office?one room of his residence. He caught the idea the instant Sadler asked him what it was he wanted to see him about, and answered naturally and readily, "No, it was my wife that wanted to see you?she is in the room," pointing to the door. Sadler, without hesitation, stepped to the door and unceremoniously opening it hastily walked in. Mrs. Henry had just risen and had only donned a short flannel skirt of scarlet. * In amazement, she dropped on the nearest chair, tucking her feet on the rounds, trying vainly, with the scanty dimensions of the skirt, to hide their stokingless state. Sadler, completely taken aback, stood without a word to say, staring at her spell-bound, apparently, till a by stander in the office, enjoying the tun witn rsnerin Henry called out, " You may come out, Sadler, and maybe, remember for the rest of the day that this is fhe first of April. Stanhope bolted. When Judge Smith was elected to the Bench, he induced his friend, Dr. Jas. A. j White, to be admitted to the bar and remove to Yorkville. If he did not give him his entire business, he threw a large amount into his hands. It was thus Dr. White got most of the practice he had, for his success as a lawyer was very limited, lie was an excellent man, much respected, though a j little inclined to be dogmatical; and with a good deal of manner somewhat tinged with pomposity. Judge Smith brought a French lady, a Mrs. Tanne, and her daughter, Miss Louisa Tanne, for the purpose of his daughter's education. They remained with him a year, had a room in his house, and had a school attended by some pupils from the village. The next year Mrs. Tanne and her daughter went to house-keeping and opened a school for young ladies. Dr. White opened a boarding house for those who might wish to come from a distance. It was quite a successful enterprise. Mrs. Tanno's became a fashionable semi nary, and Dr. White had generally from twenty to twenty-live yonng ladies from the different upper'districts, under his roof and charge. Ilis rule, though judicious, was not very stringent, and the young men of the town om'nvnd thienddition to thesoeiotv. ill nleas ant intercourse anil harmless flirtations with their different favorites. During: this time, the then celebrated mas- j ter of legerdemain, llandel, visited our vil-1 lage. The first night his reputation drew a j large crowd, which was delighted by his in- j imitable skill. The next evening lie was to ! give another exhibition, and several of the j voting gentlemen?myself among the lium- > her?were anxious to have the pleasure of j escorting some of Dr. White's boarders to! the evening's entertainment. To solicit i this privilege, we called in the morning at I Dr. White's. He was not at home; but, I alas ! Mrs. White vetoed the motion. "Dr. I White," she said, "would not permit the at- j tendance of the young ladies, as he disap-1 nmvpfl of the whole matter." We re hearsed the tricks performed, and told her } that such and such ladies of taste and re- i spectability were there, and so pleased they ; intended going again that night. Words I were wasted. Mrs. White stood firm, and j again confronted us with I)r. White's an- J thority and notions. "lie did not think it | right to encourage adventurers coming into the country and carrying out of the community so much money," Ac. We had to swal- \ low our disappointment and give up the! matter. Later in the day, I met Dr. White sitting j in McNeel's hotel piazza. In the farther | end were two of the host's little boys whom Handel was amusing with some tricks. I: broached the subject of the show to the' Doctor, but he was immovable ; reiterating ! all his wife had said, with more of the same j reasoning. An idea struck me. I left the' group of two or three and went to Handel. 1 asked him if he could perform, in day-time, some of the tricks he had done the evening before. His reply was in the affirmative. "Well," said I, "if you can show I)r. White some of those tricks now, I think he would like them so well, he would let the girls come to-night and see them too ; and it is worth your while to make the experiment, for there are over twenty of them." He was more than willing, with me it was love? with him it was money. "I will goand get ready," said he; "and when you hear me rap on the floor up-stairs, asked that knot of gentlemen to come up. I'll try and show them something." I returned to the group, and it was but a little while until I heart! the signal. I then told them that Ilandel proposed giving us a little entertaiment. As I wanted Dr. White to see his skill, would they come up stairs with us? All went readily. Among those present was Randolph Hill, then a student of law, who was very reserved and retiring, and that morning happened to be dressed in a round-about jacket. When we entered the room, he took the seat farthest back, quite near the door. Handel stood at the other end of the room with a small table before him. When we were seated, he took up a pretty little box from the table. "Gentlemen," said he, "this box is locked; but, unfortunately, the key is lost. If I had it I could show you some pretty tricks with cards. Look in your pockets; perhaps some I -J? ... I 11 1 11 \\7? 01 you may nuvt' a suuiu i\.u,v. ?? n iuuagu casually, but noone had a .suitable key. "Excuse me," persisted the showman?"no of| fence intended?but will that young gentleman with the jacket, be kind enough to look in his pocket again." Ilill examined more carefully and found a little key. He said he knew nothirfg about it?it didn't belong to him. "Thank you; let me see." It fitted exactly. White knew the distance at which Hill had been all the time from the operator, and felt inclined to tax me with its transfer; but I was as guiltless as himself. "Now, gentlemen, call for a card !" said the sleight-of-hand man, as he held up the open box on the palm of his hand. One after another called for different cards and up they would pop. Dr. White said it was a little strange, but it might be done so and so, trying to explain. "Now," said Ilandel, putting aside the box, "will some of you gentlemen be kind enough to come beside me here by the table and help me perform some tricks?" "I will, sir," said Dr. White, hoping by close proximity to detect the showman's art. Here's a half dollar?can you hold money ?" ' I think Iran, sir, pretty well," replied the Doctor. "Very well; hold this in your hand. There have you got it?" "Yes, sir." "All right! hold on tight." "Presto change! Open your hand." The money was gone. "I know when it went, said Dr. White, with a puzzieu air, "ouc uoni Know now u got out of my hand." We all laughed. "Let me try again." White now held the money so tightly clenched, you could see his frame tremble with the effort; but presto change, the money had vanished. "Maybe you can hold it better on the table under'your hat." suggested the operator?"let's try." He put a half dollar on the table, and Dr. White took off his hat?a broad brimmed Panama?put it over the money, and with both hands resting on either side, stretched fingers and thumbs encircling the crown and pressing the brim rVnrr* "Heads or tails ?" quoth the wizarcrr "Tails," hazarded the Doctor. "I say heads," returned the trickster. "Lift up the hat." "Dr. White did so, and in it stuck a tine large white-head cabbage. The silver had disappeared. "Try again," said the triumphant Handel, throwing the money down on the table. Dr. White, now convinced that it was beyond his ken, put his hat over it, merely laying his hand lightly on the crown. "Heads or tails ?" "O, another cabbage head, I suppose," said Dr. White. "I say tails?lets see." Sure enough the cash was gone again, but in the hat lay, curled around, the finest, fullest fox-tail, I nearly ever saw. Dr. White was not onlv convinced, but delighted. It was so wonderful, every one should see an exhibition of such skill. That night cost him forty dollars, lie not only had his wife, adopted daughter, and all the boarders to come, hut brought every negro he had, even to his old African cook, I don't know how old. The school nourished for some years, Dr. White continuing to hoard the girls. At length old Mrs. Tanne died. lie then took Miss Louisa, the daughter, to his house. She taught the school for a year, and then gave it up. When she left Yorkville she j went to a half-sister in Wilmington, and I from there took a steamer to New York. I I believe on the voyage the vessel was wreckj ed, and she perished. She was a very ugly i woman, but of most superior mind and accomplishments, and altogether one of the i most fascinating women! ever knew. SevI en years after she left York I was in Charleston. The landlord showed me a trunk with I the name of Miss Louisa Tanne on it, sent to his care by Dr. White, subject to her order. It had remained unasked for all this time, lie opened it not long after, and found it contained only a lady's full paraphernalia. Dr. White did not remain long in York after the close of Miss Tanne's school. A year or two after, he moved back to his plantation on Turkey Creek, which, after some years he sold and emigrated to Kentucky. There he met with much trouble. His adopted daughter, to whom he was singularly devoted, married in opposition to his wishes, and he lost by death the wife 01 his youth. lie married again after some veais. thus renairintr his desolate state ; and his latter years in "Kentucky were better than his first. In two step-daughters his pride was gratified by their beauty and style, and his declining years cheered by their affectionate attentions. [to he continued.] "Making Ue."?The butterflies of fashion are far behind actors in the methods of "making up," and in the artistic use of paint, rouge and powder. Occasionally we see a beautiful woman, gorgeously dressed, sitting in her carriage, with a cross-eyed pug dog by her side, and a cast-steel coachman on the box seat. What strikes us more particularly is the lady's face. It is ghastly white, deathly in its pallor. On each cheek she wears a brilliant red blotch, and under ? each eye is a black line. Iler eyelashes are black as Egypt, while her hair is of shimmering gold. Such a woman is "made up." She has taken the utmost pains to make herself look pretty, but the result is simply hideous, and excites the laughter of clever people who understand the mysteries of stage "make up." The trouble with our society beauty is that she does not realize that a face made up for the stage is a very different thing from one made up for daylight. An actress makes her face very white to neutralize the effect of the yellow gaslight. She draws a black line under each eye, because the footlights shining up ironi below destroy the shadow of her lower lashes and make the eye look flat. So she makes an artificial shadow with cosmetic, India ink or burnt cork. The ladies in front of the footlights study all this through the opera-glasses ; and, not understanding the difference between gaslight and sunlight, they appear on the street the next morning horribly made up. Ladies who are determined to paint and powder and draw black lines under their eyes should bear in mind the fact that the light of the sun is a hundred times whiter and brighter than that of the footlights, and moreover, it does not shine up from below.