Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. gritist, proprietor. J 2U Jfitbqpknf Jamil]) ftriospjicr: Jor % ^promotion of tjjc |3oIiikaI, Serial, ^jriniltol anb Comnurrial Jnfmsfs of % Soutjj. |terms--$2.50 a year, is advance. "VOL. 3CX YORKVILLE, S O., THURSDAY, MAY 22,1884. NO. 21. ?rigitial gtoetrjr. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. WHEN I AM DEAD. BY MRS. M. W. STRATTOJf. Suggested by reading of the premature burial of a young lady at Dayton, Ohio. I read a thrilling taleto-dav Of one who met an awful fate, Her spirit seemed to fleet away And long she lay in solemn state,? Pulseless, and cold, the dear ones round Wept wildly for her early doom, Yet while a trance her senses bound, Consigned her liviny to the tomb. T* * -*- ~ J vtnMMAtir Knrl rWL'DL sat 111 Illicit IUO uauvn utu Where she laid breathless as the dead. I may not tell the story here Which stricken hearts concealed ; How chance which oft makes darkness clear. The hideous fact revealed, How soon the tomb again unclosed Betrayed the secret a rear, The form so carefully disposed Had made some struggle here? Had moved the hand and turned the head Ere she was mercifully dead. There are some words we dare not speak, Yet earnestly we wish them said, We are too cowardly, or weak, To speak of self as cold and dead. One dismal fear has haunted me Whenever I have thought of death, A dread that I may buried be While yet there is a ling'ring breath. Forget it not?this haunting dread When I am dead?or seeming dead. Oh, when my pulses cease to beat, Watch me with love's exceeding care, Before you close my winding sheet Beswreno heart throbs faintly thereBe sure that mine's a sightless eye? Ana coia maeea my dusv uraiu? That not in seeming Heath I lie To wake in horrid life again. Death's dart might not be surely sped, The silent form might not be dead. I've stood in silence by the dead, To utter thoughts I aid not dare, How knew I that all sense had fled? That nothing earthly lingered there ? All hold on life might not be gone? Some yet unbroken thread might cling? Some consciousness might tremble on? Hide not too soon the helpless thing. Love weeps, but care must guard thy bed, Poor, silent, unresisting Dead. When I am dead, I pray you too Lay me not out in fun*ral state, A show for stranger's eyes to seeTo comment on and speculate, But cover up the empty shell, And o'er tne face a mantle fold, Let none but loving glances dwell Upon the features changed and old, Ana be thou sure that life has fled? That I am dead?that I am dead. Columbia, S. C. "chased by an engine. It was a- night colder than I ever want to see again, if I am to be out-doors in it. I had attempted to reach a railroad station by a short cut across the mountains, and getting lost, the fall of night found me in an unenviable position. I would have perished from the intese cold had I not been fortunate enough at last to see a light in the distance, gleaming like a star, staggering toward which I found a welcome and a shelter. The house from which this light proceeded was a signal station of the Railroad, in charge of a telegraph operator by the name of Joe Gaines.After climbing the western side of the mountain, the railroad at this point came through a gap or depression, and after a level run of a few hundred feet went down the eastern side. Under the operator was a track-walker, whose business it was to go from the foot of the mountain on one side to the foot on the other twice a day to see that the track was clear. The position Joe Gaines occupied was a responsible one, and no train could pass this point and go down the grade until he had signaled it to do so. "You must find it monotonous here, especially in the winter," I said to him as we sat before the fire late in the evening, now and then shuddering as some fiercer blast than usual went howling past. "Yes," he said, "it is a business the monotony of which is seldom or never broken. In five years, which is the length of time I have been here, I have met with but one adventure out of the common; but," after a pause, "that was a scorcher!" "Suppose you tell me of it to pass away the time r" i suggested. "Just as you say." "Then go ahead!" "Well, I will do so, and I hope it will prove of interest to you. It is not far from a year ago that the adventure happened. There had been a storm, which at first was snow, then rain, and last of all a mixture of both, that froze as it fell. The weight of it was so great that the wires on the east side of the mountain went down under the load. "The next day was a dark and gloomy one, and I had the blues most terribly. If it had not been for the consolation of talking with a fellow-operator over the west wires, I believe I should have deserted my post here, never to return. I don't suppose you have any idea how a man comes to love the tick-tick-tick of the little instruments, but that one yonder I know the voice of as well as I know that of my best friend on earth. When that machine begins to click, it talks to me. "Well, it was about this time in the evenine:, and I was sitting here alone. Pat was'out on the west side, pushing his way along in the bitter cold. "The machine there began to click-click. "I pricked up my ears. I was being called. Wondering for what, I went to the key and answered, and then a message came over the wires that caused my heart to stand still. It was in these words : " 'A locomotive has broken loose, and is going up the mountain with a full head of steam. It must be stopped, somehow, or'it will go crashing into the train at H .' "Now H is a town a few miles from the foot of the mountain to the east side of us, the wire between which and myself was down. As the road only has a single track, the runaway locomotive, unless stopped, would wreck the train that was at the time standing in the station there. "What was to be done ? "I tried to think of the right thing to do, but half a hundred ideas crowded themselves into my mind, one on top of the other, and I could not decide which was the safer and more practicable, for while I would save the train at all hazards, I wished to save the locomotive as well, if it could be accomplished. "I could see no way of doing this, and I finally started out with the intention of placing something across the rails, to throw the locomotive off them and down the mountain side. "I had no more than stuck my nose outside the door than I knew that this would be an impossibility, for even then I could hear the engine snorting and panting up the grade, and not more than naif a mile away. There was not time left for me to lug to the track and place across it anything heavy enough for the purpose intended. "I remember a sensation crossing me that it was beyond my power to avert the catastrophe, and that I had no reason to blame myself. But the next minute arose before my mind a picture of the train all wrecked and smashed, and I fancied I could even hear the shrieks and cries of the wounded. It started the perspiration out of me in streams, and I felt I would be almost guilty of murder did I not make an attempt to save the train. Yet, what could I do? "As I have said the storm had been a mixture of snow and rain, that had frozen as it fell. The ground was covered by a mask of ice and sleet, and it glistened'between the rails as it stretched away and was lost in the distance. "To my mind the problem of what to do i appeared insolvable. and I was wringing t my hands in helpless impotency, when i light came. ] "My foot had struck against a long handsled, for which Pat found use in bringing y in wood to burn. - t "In this sled was salvation for the train! j At the foot 01 *he mountain was a siding, 1 if I could reach which on the hand-sled in time to turn the switch, the runaway loco- r. motive would be diverted from the course of ( destruction and would hurl itself against a 1 rocky barrier at the termination of the side- I track. * 1 "When I placed the sled between the 1 tracks, I could already see the glaring head- i light of the engine. It was very close now, not more than an eighth of a mile away. "Would it not overtake me after I got started, and before I reached the bottom of the grade? As the suggestion entered my mind, a cold chill crept over me. But I did not take time to count the danger?I did not dare to, lest I should become fainthearted ! I knew that the ties all the way down were close together, and the sled would cross them readily, as it had often bone before with Pat. 1 "I gave myself a fling down on the sled, I in the old schoolboy fashion, on my stomach. \ The impetus of my weight descending gave 1 the sled a start, and the next second I was 1 fairly flying down the grade between the % rails. "I had not gone far when I noted that the i locomotive no longer panted in that heavy, \ distressed way that it had in rising the i grade on the other side. * "I knew what it meant. The top of the f gap had been reached, and she was running i on the level! In another minute she would < be coming after me. Then what? I "I can tell you that you need never wish * for such a feeling as came over me as the engine started down the grade in pursuit of me. ( "I thought I had suffered mental agonies * on several previous occasions, but I know \ now that never until then did I have the t foSnfocf nnnnontinn nf hnw rnnr>h n. human 1 being can suffer in a brief space. 1 "So rapidly did the sled glide over the ( frozen sleet that my breath was fairly taken j away. I dared not look back after I had ( been going a few seconds, for so swiftly was i I moving that it required my constant at- ] tention to guide the sled. One unguarded \ moment might send me headlong down the g mountain side. "It was awful not to be able to note the ' progress of the pursuing locomotive by means l of sight, while my ears were telling me of l its swiftly overtaking me. I shall never i forget my feelings then if I should count my i years to a century. t "Thud! thud! thud! I could hear the l whirring wheels pound on the rails. 1 "The sled was a large and heavy one, and g it could not help slipping along at a terrific i rate on such a grade as this. Yet fast as it g slid along I felt that there was need for f greater speed if I would save the train. But i faster than this I could not go. Even now I ? was all but flying. And behind me the lo- g comotive was bounding along like some i bloodthirsty monster, determined that I i should not escape. t "It was only two miles to the bottom of i the grade, so you can understand that it t would not take me long to reach it. Yet it ( appeared to me that a year must have ? elapsed between the moment I started down i the o-rade and that other one when I found ^ myself near the bottom. c "Thud! thud! thud! The runaway loco- t motive was coming nearer?coming nearer > with a speed rivaling the flight of a ball from the cannon's mouth! I felt sure it r now could not be more than a few hundred ] feet behind; yet I dared not risk turning s my head even for one instant. r At last the switch was in sight. r "Thud! thud! thud! The horribly-sug- t festive sound was now close behind me. t 'ast as the sled was traveling, it appeared to me at this juncture as though it were only \ crawling at a snail's pace. I remember seeing the switch-handle ahead of me, of ut- j tering a brief prayer, then digging my toes into toe sleet to stop my headway. The next c second I steered the sled sharply around, t It slid sideways for some feet, and then lost i motion. I did not take time to get upon my feet, r but just rolled over in the direction of the j switch, clutching which, I dragged myself v on my feet, and glanced back in the direction whence I had just come. t "Good cause there was for the shudder that s thrilled me, for the locomotive was only a couple of hundred yards away. Heavens! v how she was tearing along! t "You can gain some idea perhaps, if you stop to think that she was coming down a \ heavy grade, under a full head of steam, of s the fearful rate at which she was traveling. s "There was scant time in which to turn a the switch. How I ever managed to do it j in the time left me I do not pretend to un- t derstand, but get it turned in time I did. "As I gave the switch-handle a pull to- s ward me, I instinctively shrank back out of g the way. It was well that I did so, for the i instant the wheels struck the curve of the r switch the engine left the rails, jolted for a short distance over the ties, and then turned j a somersault, struck heavily on some rocks, ci and lay there, like a monster panting for breath. f " T %-* 1 An r* if r*in/lrt if f Qll'OXT All MI til 11/ 11UUIC 11/ IUI t- (VH W4IV ^ switch-handle, and had I not recoiled from it even as I did, I should have suffered se- r rious, if not mortal wounds. ^ "I still had work to do. I must warn the now approaching train of danger, arising from the torn rails. "Hastily gathering together some dry , twigs, I lighted them at a point a hundred feet beyond the break. "When the train drew near, the engineer saw the fire and came to a halt. It being an impossibility for him to pass until a wreck- t ing-train had made repairs, he returned to f H . } "Two days later, the circumstances had y probably been forgotten, save by myself and a very few others. V. "And that is the account of the one adven- t ture connected with my position that is at all different from the usual run of adven- ^ tures in the employ of a railroad company." t "But was not your brave deed in some . way recognized and rewarded?" * "It was not. I did not wish that it should be, for I was not cut out to fill the role of a hero." j "And the good old sled?what became of that?" I "Pat has it with him to-night. If you are ^ going in the direction of H in the inor- , ning, you can go down the grade on it with him." I did go down the grade with Pat, the 1 next morning, on the sled, and more than ? once I shuddered as we slipped past some [; dangerous spot, where a slight miscalculation would have hurled us to the bottom of some ravine. I had only to picture myself as being now 1 pursued by a runaway locomotive to hearti- ? ly wish myself somewhere else.?Saturday t Night. s HE BROKE UP THE SCHOOL. I "That is the new school house, is it?" in- s quired Miss Alice Ray, the "new teacher," 11 as the farmer's plodding little team passed * by a little white house standing eudwise to ^ the road, inclosed, in a rather dilapidated f fence. "Yes, there is where you will hold forth," s remarked Uncle Zeke Woodburn, "but I'm afeerd you won't hold out long, fur we've got the toughest set of boys in the State," t and Uncle Zeke gave a kind of crackling t little laugh as he thought of the timid, de- a murelittle damsel at his side controlling ii the boys of Bear creek school. (1 "But don't the directors expel them when b ' 1 4- V* r\ fnnnl,. tney urc otjyunu tuunui ui mc iuuvu- t er?" asked Alice, her heart beginning to v sink at the prospect before her. r "Expel 'ein ! 110, we never expel nobody; if a teacher can't boss the school we just let ii it boss him; it ain't our fight, an'the school c here generally bosses the teacher, and thar's s been some pretty good men licked in that li school house by the boys." "I did not know the school was so un- 1 uly," said poor Alice, wishing heartily hat she had hired out as a washerwoman nstead of trying to teach the savages of Bear creek. "Oh, well, raebbe it won't be so bad this vinter; thar's Jim Turner, he's one of the oughest of'em ; he'll be 21 in a month, and ,'ou'll get rid of him ; but thar's the Brindey boys, they're mighty nigh as bad." Poor Alice listened with a sinking heart. Che cold, hardduties before her were dreary mough at best; but to go alone and unknown into a strange neighborhood to teach ler first school, and to be met at the outset >y such dark prophecies, made her feel lomeless indeed. She was naturally a timd, shrinking little thing, and if she had jossessed anywhere on the whole broad sarth a roof to shelter her she would have ;urned back from Bear creek school even hen. But she had no home. Her mother lad died when she was but 14, and she had eept house for her father two years, when he lied, leaving her all alone. Before he died \e advised her to expend the little sum he ?vould be able to leave her in fitting herself 'or a teacher, and Alice had fulfilled his di ections so literally that when sne naa completed her course at normal school she had lardly $10 left, and when she paid Uncle ieke for hauling her and her little trunk rom the nearest railroad town to the district where she was to teach she had but *5 left. On Monday moring when she started for the school house she felt as if she was going so the scaffold. Her course of pedagogics in the normal institute had included no such i problem as this school promised to be, ma if it were not for the very shame she tvould have given her single $o bill to any >ne to take her back to the railroad and pay her fare to L., the town where she had ittended school. When she arrived at the school house ibout twenty or thirty pupils were grouped iround taking, but a spell of silence fell jpon them as she walked up and saluted ;nem with a "good morning" which was nore like the chirp of a frightened bird ;han anything else. As she unlocked the ioor and entered what she had already be*un to regard as a chamber of torture, two >r three slowly followed her into the room, ind depositing their books upon the whited desks, toolc seats, and fixed their eyes lpon her with a stare that did noi; help to strengthen her nerves. All the rules and regulations of her 'Theory and Practice of Opening School [Jpon the First Day" seemed to vanish ana eave her head whirling in dizzy helplessless. She tried to think of some cheerful emark, but her brain refused to form the ;hought and her tongue clove to the roof of ler mouth. She could see in the faces of ler pupils, most of whom were now in the ichoolroom, that they were aware of her 'right and enjoyed it thoroughly. By a strong effort she partly recovered herself ind bravely resisted the temptation to lean ler head on the desk and have a good cry. she felt that she must do something or faint, o she rang the bell, though it lacked fifteen ninutes of 9. She began taking down the lames and ages of her pupils, and by the ,ime this was completed sne began to feel noreatease. She then began examining he pupils in their different crunches in orler to assign them to their proper classes, she had finished the examination in all the >ranchesexcept the advanced reading class, vhich was principally composed of grown firls and young men, among whom was the errible Jim Turner, of whom she h ad been varned. Several of the members of the class had ead, and it was now the turn of Moses Bradley, a huge, heavy-set fellow, with mall malicious eyes and a general air of uffianism. When he was called upon to ead he did not rise from his seat, but began o read in a thick, indistinct voice from a >ook hidden in his lap. "Mr. Bradley, will you please stand up vhen you read?" asked Alice. "I can read just as well sittin' down," redied the fellow with a dogged air. "But it is one of the rules in a reading lass to stand up to read," said Alice, her leart quaking with fear as she foresaw the ncipient rebellion. "I recokon you will have to make a new ule for me then," impudently answered dose, glancing sideways at his companions vith a grin of triumph. "If you do not obey me I shall be obliged o punish you," said Alice bravely, though he could scarcely stand up. "I guess all the punishing you could do wouldn't break any of my bones," replied he ruffian, leering at her impudently. "But I can break your bones for you in lalf a minute, and I'll do it if you don't tand and react as the teacher asked you to," aid a voice at the other end of the class, nd A 1 i na ln/->Lrnr1 in tViof diropfinn find <Sll W Tim Turner step from the class and face he astonished Mose. Mose's insolent manner abated in an infant, his face turned pale, and he muttered omething about not being "bossed by other ?oys," but he stood up as he was comnanded. Alice could have kissed her youngcham>ion for gratitude, but she mustered all the lignity sne could command, and said: "Mr. Turner, I cannot allow you to interere in the management of my school; take 'our seat." The youth obeyed without a word, but ;ept his eye on Mose, as if watching for any lelinquency. After this little episode the ixercises proceeded without interruption till loon. Alice had no appetite for dinner. She eaned her throbbing head upon the desk .nd wondered wearily how long she could indure this. She was aroused by one of the little girls unning up to her, exclaiming: "Teacher, eacher, the big boys are fighting !" She ollowed the child, exclaiming, "Oh, why lid I ever come into such a den of wild >easts? At the rear of the school house tood Jim Turner engaged in a hand-to* land combat with Mose Bradley and his wo brothers, both of whom were grown. Vs Alice stepped around the corner Jim ent Mose reeling to-the earth arid then urnea liKea Jion upon nis iwo remaining ssailants. They rushed at him from two ides, but Jim was as active as a panther, nd Bill Bradley tell as if shot, from a leftninded blow, and his brother Tom followed dm in an instant. By this time Mose had ecured a ball bat and rushed upon Jim, but he latter evaded the blow, and wrenching he bat from his hand knocked Mose headong with a blow of his fist. As the discomfited trio arose Jim laughed ightly, and asked them "how they liked it s far as they had got," picked up the bat le had taken from Mose and called out, 'Come on, boys, let's have a game of ball." The co m bate tided so quickly that Alice lad no chance to interfere, but she felt that t would not do to let this open violation of chool rules pass unpunished, so she rang he bell. When the pupils were assembled he called the culprits up to the desk, and sked what the fight was about and who iegan it. The Bradleys stood sullen and ilent, but Jim answered, "I would rather tot tell what it was about, but I begun it by mocking Mose Bradley down." Alice ;new the fight was the result of Jim's eslousal of her cause in the reading class, and ler voice, faltered as she said : "Then I hall have to punish you ; hold out your land." Jim obeyed her instantly. She took up he ruler with a trembling hand and began ho punishment. Jim's face never changed muscle. The look upon it was obedience 11 which there was no trace of either bravalo or sullenness. As Alice inflicted the lows on the hand so quietly held out to her, he thought rushed upon her mind that she ras smiting the only hand that had been aised to befriend her in that lawless region. Her face grew pale, the blows fell falterngly, the tears began to run down her heeks, the ruler fell from her hard, she ank into her seat, buried her face into her lands, and burst into a storm of sobs. Then Jim's countenance changed. His ips quivered, he dashed his hand across his eyes to clear them of unnatural dimness, and the great lump in his throat seemed to choke him. A chuckle from Mose Bradley recalled his self-possession, however, and he took a step or two toward the latter with eyes that fairly blazed with hot indignation. Mose rapidly retreated a step or two, and his chuckle died an untimely death, and for a full minute silence reigned over the school room. At last Alice raised her head and in a broken voice dismissed the pupils to the play ground. As the children passed out she heard some one say, "So you've got a whipping after all, Jim," and Jim's reply, "Yes, and I've got enough to pass some of it around if anybody is anxious about it." At 1 o'clock Alice rang the bell with a feeling of utter despair ; but no. school ever moved more smoothly than did her school that afternoon. Quiet, obedience, study, good lessons, and respectful attention were universal. But Alice had determined to quit the school; she felt as if she would rather be the poorest washerwoman than to be badgered, bullied, and tortured for months at a time by a set of brutal ruffians, whose parents employed her for the sole purpose of enduring this martyrdom. So when Alice locked the school house door that evening it was with a mingled feeling of humiliation that she started to offer her resignation to the directors. As she left the school house she saw Jim Turner a few yards ahead of her walking rapidly toward home. She called his name, and he respectfully waited until she haa overtaken him. Mr. Turner," she said, "I'm going away in the morning, and I wish to thank you for your brave defense of me at the school to-day, and to ask your forgiveness for the punishment so unjustly inflicted on you," and in her earnestness Alice held out her little trembling hand, and Jim instantly grasped it. "I have nothing to forgive," said he ; "you could not do otherwise and neither could I; but you are surely not intending to quit the school ?" "Yes," answered Alice, "I would rather die than pass through three months of such scenes as I have to-day." "But you will have no more trouble; there is no one in the school that would be at all likely to give you trouble, except the Brad ley boys, and as long as I am tnere i win answer for their good behavior." At last Jim's eloquence prevailed, and Alice finally consented to teach a week longer, and at the end of that time she decided to stay, for never did a school move along more smoothly. At her request Jim was allowed to remain during the term, and as soon as it closed he went to college. Alice taught the Bear creek school successfully for three years, but in the end Uncle Zeke's prediction was verified, for Jim Turner came back and broke up the school. He married the teacher. CHURCH DECORATION. It has been said?it ought always to be said, for it is true?that a better and more honorable offering is made to our Master in ministry to the poor, in extending the knowledge of His name, in the practice of the virtues by which that name is hallowed than in material presents to His temple. Assuredlv it is so: woe to all who think that any other kind or manner of offering may in anywise take the place of these! Do the people need places to pray, and calls to hear His word? Then it is no time for smoothing pillars or carving pulpits; let us have enough first of walls and roofs. Do the people need teaching from house to house, and bread from day to day ? Then they are deacons and ministers we want, not architects. I insist on this, I plead for this; but let us examine ourselves, and see if this be indeed the reason for our backwardness in the lesser work. The question is not between God's house and His poor: it is not between God's house and Ilis gospel. It is between God's house and ours. Have we no tesselated colors on our floors ? No frescoed fancies on our roofs? No niched statuary in our corridors? No gilded furniture in our chambers? No costly stones in our cabinets? Has even the titne of these been offered? They are, or they ought to be, the signs that enough has been devoted to the great purposes of human stewardship, and that there remains to us what we can spend in luxury; but there is a greater and nrnnrlAr liiYiirv thnn this selfish one?that of bringing a portion of such things as these into sacred service, and presenting them for a memorial that our pleasure as well as our toil has been hallowed by the remembrance of Him who gave both the strength and the reward. And until this has been done, I do not see how such possessions can be retained in happiness. I do not understand the feeling which would arch our own gates and pave our own thresholds, and leave the church with its narrow door and foot worn sill and blighted walls; the feeling which enriches our own chambers with all manner of costliness, and endures the bare wall and mean compass of the temple. God never forgets any work or labor of love; and whatever it may be of which the first and best portions or powers have been presented to Him, He will multiply and increase seven fold. Therefore, though it may not be necessarily the interest of religion to admit the service of the arts, the arts will never flAiirieli hnnn nrimorilv rip voted to that service?devoted both by architect and employer; by the one in scrupulous, earnest, affectionate design ; by the other in expenditure?at least more frank, at least less calculating, than that which he would admit in the indulgence of his own private feelings. Beecher ox the South.?At the recent testimonial entertainment in the Academy of Music, New York, in aid of the Southern Veteran Soldiers' Home at Richmond, Va., given by the Grand Army of the Republic and the citizens of Brooklyn, the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher presided. He was introduced as "the friend of humanity everywhere," and on taking the chair he said that in all the earnestness and enthusiasm of patriotism, and in all the elements that hnH hnnnrl thorn ton-other with a common compassion and pity for a great cause, he had never crossed the threshold of the Academy with a more hearty sympathy. "We remember well," he said, "when the cry from morning to morning was 'On to Richmond.' We found some difficulty in getting there. [Laughter], We propose to enter Richmond this time by virtue of gold and silver, and that without very much delay." The reverend gentleman said that there never was any natural antagonism between the North and the South. Their political institutions, so far as the frame-work of government was concerned, were identical. Mr. Beecher alluded to his recent tour through the Southern States, when he had heard citizens say that if they could by holding up their hands, reintroduce slavery they would not do so. He alluded to the lira vp emirliH't nf the Southerners duriner the war. "Although practically I am a peace man," he said, "poetically I admire military affairs. [Laughter]. I did notgo through the war myself, as you might now be listening to the Rev. Gen. Beecher. It might also have been otherwise. [Laughter]. I don't believe the Southern people meant dissension, but when, since they had committed themselves, no nobler set of men, no braver soldiers were ever known, and no more heroic sacrifices were ever made." [Applause]. At Mr. Beecher's request the "venerable father of the city of Brooklyn," Mayor Low, made an earnest address on behalf of the Home in Richmond. "What right has any man in Brooklyn who did not fight to withhold his helping hand from those who did?" said Mayor Low. Miss Emma Thursby sang the "Star-Spangled Banner," as an encore, "The Old Folks at Home," Mr. Maurice Strakosch accompanying her on the piano. Col. W. E. Sinn's Park Theatre orchestra contributed musical selections, and the Columbia Band, of New York, was also heard. Gen. Hancock sent $100 to the fund, Gen. Grant $50, having previously contributed $550; Col. Sinn $100, and Rev. Henry Ward Beecher gave $100. ^isfcUaneflttS Heading. A TALK WITH JEFF. DAYIS. The Indianapolis (Ind.) Journal states that Mr. Wm. L. Taylor, a prominent lawyer of that city, recently visited Mr. Jefferson Davis at his home, near Beauvoir, Miss., a small station on the Louisville <fc Nashville Railroad midway between Mobile and New Orleans. Mr. Taylor describes the home of the Codfederate leader as a typical old-time plantation mansion, one story in height, with spacious halls and an imposing portico. The house lies in view of the Gulf, and is surrounded by a thick grove of orange and magnolia trees. Mr. Taylor says that he was received cordially by Mr. Davis, and, after they had been talking for a few moments, Mrs. Davis and her daughter, a handsome young lady, appeared in the room, accompanied by a young Chicago lawyer. Mr. Davis insisted that he should remain in the house over night. Duringthe evening the conversation turned upon the the war, and Mr. Davis talked freely upon all subjects that were brought up. "What is the Southern estimate of the Federal Generals ?" inquired Mr. Taylor. "I cannot give you the Southern estimate," Mr. Davis replied. "I can give you my own estimate." "What do you think of Grant?" was asked. "Grant," he said, "was largely a creature of circumstances. I remember that the first time I met Grant was when he was ni^i! AU/\ T>~ /\t r~t4- n ci n 1 ? Atifnn SUlllUIlUU UI1 LUC X ilUHHJ X/Vtwt OO iV licvaiiant. I was then Secretary of War. He was charged with drunkenness and neglect of duty. I gave him his choice between standing trial and resigning. He resigned. I knew that he would. Gen. Grant was a great military commander. He was very tenacious. He fought a battle as a matter of business. Men were mere cogs in the wheel. All the men and means he wanted were placed at his command, and he had every advantage. He would have been discharged from the Army of the Potomac if it had not been that too many changes had already taken place in the army." "What is your estimate of Gen. Sherman ?" was asked. "Sherman," Mr. Davis said, "was looked upon in the South as Alaric was by the Romans. He was their 'scourge of God.' He was cruel, yet he was a great strategist." "Yes," interrupted Miss Davis, "he was an inhuman monster. What he did not use he destroyed." "Sherman hesitated," Mr. Davis continued, "for a long time between joining the Confederate army and the Union army. We were uncertain which he would do. fie finally joined the Union army, thinking, I suppose, that more could be gained by it." "My idea," remarked Mr. Davis, "is that Meade was the most skillful general in the Federal army. Gen. Lee once said to me that he could understand the movements of ail the generals in the Federal army easier than those of Gen. Meade. Those above Meade never allowed him to display his full power. He was hampered and kept down through jealousy." Mr. Taylor.?"How did you regard McClellan ?" "Well, sir, McClellan was the best trained soldier in the war. While Secretary of War I sent him on three important missionsone to Europe, to study military methods. He returned with a better knowledge of military discipline and methods than was possessed by any man in his country." Mr. Taylor.?"Could he have entered Richmond if he had pushed on across the Chicahominy ?" "Well," Mr. Davis answered, laughing, "I once knew a farmer who said that if his foresight had been as good as his hindsight he might have made a fortune on cotton. Something of the same kind was probably the fault with McClellan. If he had known the weakness of the Confederates, and had thrown his array across the river, I think he could have entered Richmond. We thought he would, and I believe Gen. Lee thought so, too." "Mr. Taylor.?"Who do you regard as the greatest of the Confederate generals?" "I consider Gen. Sidney Johnson as the greatest general produced on either side by the late war. Gen. Lee stands next in my estimation, and as we move away from the war his desperate struggle against overwhelming numbers will be a marvel in war annals." "Mr. Lincoln was a vulgar joker," Mr. Davis said, "but withal he was a great man. He was wise and he was honest. He could have been of great good to the South if he had lived, and his untimely death was a great loss to us." He was quiet and apparently in deep meditation for several minutes, and resumed: "Yes, it was a great loss, for he was succeeded by a low, mean demagogue?Johnson?and a demagogue is the worst of men. Johnson was unschooled, but a man of great native ability. He had no convictions, and tried to please all. Lincoln was a man of great vigor of mind, although he was plain and rough. If Mr. Lincoln had lived the South would have had a President that understood her condition, and he would have been of more benefit to her than any other man could possibly have been. He was an honest man. His death was a great misfortune to the South." A Happy Couple.?A married and experienced friend tells us that a man should always be a little bigger than his wife, and a little older, a little braver, and a little stronger, and a little more in love with her than she is with him. A woman should always be a little younger, and a little prettier, and a little more I 1,^- v? lluku m ,1 i to clwmllrl CUIISlUC'iaiC liiun I!Vi nu.7iyauui iiv. mivuiu i bestow upon her all his worldly goods, and she should take care of them. He may owe her every care and tenderness that affection may prompt; but pecuniary indebtedness to lier will become a burden." Better live on a crust that he earns than on a fortune that she has brought him. Neither must bejealous, or give the other cause for jealousy. Neither must encourage sentimental friendship with the opposite sex. Perfect confidence in each other, and reticence concerning their mutual affairs, even to members of their own families, is a first necessity. A wife should dress herself becomingly whenever she expects to meet her husband's eye. The man should not grow slovenly even at home. Fault-finding, long arguments, or scoldings, end the happinessthat begins in kisses and love-making. Sistersand brothers may quarrel and ''make it up." Lovers are lovers no longer after such disturbances occur, and married people who are not lovers are bound by red-hot chains. If a man admires his wife most in striped calico, she is silly not to wear it.?The Eye. The State of Magnificent Distances.?The distance from Dallam county, in the Texas Pan Handle, to Brownsville, at *1 " n _ n nnn tne moutn 01 tne itio urauue, is ow mura, but we can better realize how far it is by saying that it is nearer from Dallam county, Texas, to St. Paul, Minn.; or to Bismarck, Dakota; or to Helena, Montana; or to Yellowstone Park, in Wyoming, or to Salt Lake City, Utah, than it is from Dallam county to Brownsville, Texas. It is also nearer from Brownsville to Guatemala, in Central America, than from Brownsville to Dallam county. Again, it is nearer from Lipscomb county, Texas to St. Louis, than from the same county to Galveston. And even Chicago and Cincinnati are nearer to Texas than Dallam county is to Brownsville. It is farther from Texarkana to El Paso than from Texarkana to West Virginia, Old Virginia, or North Carolina. Suppose a gentleman should start from Savannah, Ga., on the Atlantic to look at a tract of land at El Paso. After traveling three days and nights on a passenger train he might arrive at Orange, Texas. Of course when he put his foot on Texas soil, he would begin to look around to see how he liked the country by way of deciding whether he would buy the El Paso land or not. But if told he was not half way from Savannah to El Paso, he might turn bad discouraged, but such would be the fact Again Texas wants deep water at Galveston But it is nearer from El Paso, Texas, to th< deep harbor of San Diego, Cal., than fron El Paso to Galveston. In fact, more thai 1,000 miles of the Pacific coast, extending from Los Angeles, Cal., to Mazatlan, Mexi co, is nearer to El Paso than any part of th< Texas gulf coast. THE STATE OF FRANKLIN. The existence of a Territory named afte: the Father of his Country, and the proposi tion to give another Territory the name o Lincoln, recalls the fact, possibly not knowi to many living readers, that an inchoah state once bore the name of the most emi nent American of the pre-revolutionary pe riod, and with the exception of Washing ton, the most eminent of the revolutior itself. The historian of the State of Frank lin (or Frankland), Dr. J. G. M. ltamsay died a short time since in Knoxville, Tenn. at the age of 87. He inherited the paper: of his father who was clerk of the Wash insrton district of this now forerotten State and also came into possession of those o Colonel Sevier, the only Governor the Stat< ever had, and by Governor Blount who vva the chief magistrate of Georgia durinj the Creek war and the war of 1812. Dr Ramsay's book was published in 1853, ant covered the history of that portion of thi country which now forms the State of Ten nessee from 1769 to 1800. Much of Dr. Ramsay's book?indeec about two thirds of it?is occupied witl the history of the rise and fall of this re doubtable State. It consisted of the coun tics of Washington, Greene and Sullivan ii North Carolina, now forming the westeri portion of the State of Tennessee. Thes< counties were ceded by the former State t< the general government in April, 1784 just one hundred years ago. But the moun taineers who inhabited the region feare( that they were to be left in a condition o anarchy for two years, during which tiifii they would have no authority or organi zation for repelling Indian attacks, thougl the cession reserved sovereignty and juris diction over them until the general govern ment should act upon the matter. Accord ingly the three counties appointed deputie who met and organized an independen State, and Sevier, the hero of King' Mountain, was chosen Governor. Then was a division of opinion as to whether tin State should be called Franklin or Frank land, but Ramsay says the former name wa ultimately adopted.' Before the organiza tion was complete North Carolina repeale( the act of cession, and Gov. Sevier himsel advised against going on with the project o independence, but nevertheless acceptec the executive office when his advice wa: rejected. A rather vigorous discussion en sued between himself and the Governor o North Carolina, who called upon the peoph of the new commonwealth to return to theii allegiance. The State was never recognizee outside of its own boundary, and the dele gate who was sent to Congress received n< attention from that body, and after nearh four years of disturbed existence on accoun of the contention of rival governments ant the presence of rival courts in the sam< counties, it surrendered its existence on th< 1st of March, 1788. Gov. Sevier was cap tured by the North Carolina authoritie: and threatened to be shot, but he lived t< be reinstated in ins old place as conimanne: of the militia of all the western countie: and finally to become the first member o Congress from the valley of the Mississippi It is to be regretted that the name was no preserved and transferred to some mor< permanent and substantial commonwealth The Heavenly Shepherd.?Deep ii the midnight that preceeded the festival o spring, at which the two first sons of tin human race were to bring a thank-offerinj to the Creator, their mother saw in a deej sleep a wondrous dream. The white rose: which her younger son had planted arount his altar were changed to blood stainet roses, and more fully blown, such as sin bad never before seen. She tried to plucl them, but they withered beneath her touch Upon the altar whereon milk alone wa: the principal offering, now lay a bleeding lamb. Voices of lamentation were heart around, and amid them one voice of de spair, till at last all died away into tones o melody such as she had never heard before And a beautiful plain lay before hermore beautiful even than the Paradise o her youth, and upon it wandered, in tin likeness of her son, a shepherd clad ii winiia. ?iic it;u rusrca wnc in 1113 jiuii, am in his hand he held a harp, from whicl those tones of melody came forth. 1I< turned affectionately towards her?began t< approach and vanished. With him vanish ed the dream. And as the mother awoke she saw th< day dawn red and blood-like and she wen forth with a heavy heart to the festiva of the thank-offering. The brothers brought their offering, anc their parents returned homeward. But a evening their younger son came not back Full of anxiety, the mother sought for him and found only his scattered and mournfu herd. He, himself lay all bloody by tin altar; the roses were stained with his blooc and the agonizing voice of Cain rang louc from a neighboring cavern. Senseless she sank upon the corpse of hei son, and a second time the vision appeared to her. The shepherd whom she saw in thai new paradise, was her son. The red rose1 were in his hair; sweet tones resounded from his harp ; and he sweetly sang tc her, "Look upward to the stars in heaven my weeping mother, look upward. Beholc yon glittering chariot there; it hears us t( other plains, to a more beautious Paradise than thou in Edensawest; where the bloodstained rose of innocence more fully blooms and sighs are changed to sounds of melody.' The vision disappeared; and Eve arose with new strength from the pallid corpse o: her son. And oil the morrow, when she had bedewed him with her tears, and crowned him with the roses of the altar his father and mother buried him by the altai of his God, in the light of the beauteous daydawn. And oft at midnight sat they by his grave, and gazed toward heaven, upward to the high moving chariot of stars, and sought their shepherd there. Need or Economy.?One of the hardesl lessons in life for young people to learn is to practice economy. It is a harder duty for a young man to accumulate and save his first $1,000 than his next $10,000. A man can be economical without being mean, and it is one of his most solemn duties tc lay sufficient in his days of strength and prosperity to provide for himself and those who are or may be dependent upon him in his days of sickness or misfortune. Extravagance is one ot the greatest evils of the present age. It is underminding and overturning the loftiest and best principles that should be retained and held sacred in society. It is annually sending thousands of voumr men and women to ruin and misfor tune. Cultivate, then, sober and industrious habits, acquire the art of putting a little aside every day and for your future necessities; avoid all unnecessary and foolish expenditures. Spend your time only in such a manner as shall bring you profit and enjoyment, and your mon'ey for such things as you actually need for your comfort and happiness, and you will prosper in your lives, your business, and will win and retain the respect and honor of all worthy and substantial people. SST According to Dr. Farr, if we take the march of a million children through life, the following will be the result: Nearly 150,000 will die the first year 53,000 the second year, 28,000 the third year, and less than 4,000 in the thirteenth year. At the end of forty-five years 500,000, will have died. At the end of sixty years 370,000 will be still living; at the end of eighty years, 90,000; at eighty-five years, 38,000, and at ninety-five years, 2,100. At the end of 100 years there will be 223, and at the end of 108 years there will be one survivor. ; j THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. The theory concerning the "Star of Beth | lehem" is based on a poetical foundation, 3 having little to support it. In the year 1 1572Tycho Brahe, discovered a new star 1 near Caph in the constellation Cassiopea. f | It increased in brilliancy until it was as " | bright as Venus, and could easily be seen 31 at noonday. It continued to shine for a ! month then gradually grew dim and in sixj teen months disappeared from view. It i was looked upon as being a new creation, r or a sun on fire, and the general opinion - j was that it would never again shine in the f tar depths. Forty years later the telescope l was invented. When it was turned to the 3 position in the heavens occupied by the - blazing star, a minute star was found near - the identical spot. This telescope star is - still there, and it is doubtless the same one l that blazed forth in 1572. The discovery - that existed led astronomers to search as, tronomical records, and it was found that , similar bright stars had appeared in the s same region of the sky in 946 and 1264. - Counting back three periods from 946 we are , brought to the near vicinity of the birth of f Christ. Observers gifted with poetic fancies i naturally connected the two events, and s have inferred that the Star in the East, ? pointing to the place of the Nativity, was . a sudden outburst of this wonderful star. 1 For this reason it has received the name of 4-1% A L'4A m A f T) A! U 1 AU A TV* c tut; ouii ui ucliiiciiLiii About 24 of these temporary stars have appeared in the last 2,000years, subject, likethe 1 star ofCassiopea, to sudden outburstsfollowi ed by a return to their normal insignificance. - They are classed as variable stars, subject - to sudden outbursts due to eruptions of i blazing hydrogen, and which are followed by 1 long periods of quiescence. According to 2 this theory, the star of 1572 is a variable d star, with a period of a few more than 300 . years. The last period was 308 years, if the - bright star of 1204 was one ana the same; 1 we may, therefore, hope for a repetition of f the incomprehensible phenominon in the 2 immediate future. The star was due iu - 1880 ; if it appears at all it will surely blaze 1 forth by 1885. There is a possibility there fore, that the long-lost star of Bethlehem, - the Pilgrim Star of 1572, or Tyeho Brahe's - star?for it is known by these names?will s once more become a shining wonder in the t sky. Such a celestial visitor will be warms ly welcomed by astronomers, and far more e acceptable than a great comet spanning the 2 heavens with its gossamer tail. s Reasons for Earthquakes.?There . are much greater variations of pressure at 1 the sea coast than elsewhere, and though f usually the crust beneath the seashore may f be able to withstand such changes, yet there 1 may not be sufficient strength in certain 3 places to prevent the occasional formation - of openings through which water may find f its way into the interior. Consider, for in3 stance, the effect of the alternate inflow and r outflow of water along a shore line, the 1 enormous added pressure when they sink . again. This would not operate over a large 5 region, when the whole of it is affected, as ; for instance the portion of the sea-floor that t is always underwater. But along a shoia 1 a portion of the crust comes under the effect j of this alternation of tidal pressure, while j the neighboring parts of the crust are not . at all affected. Thus, taking a strip of sur3 face square to the short-line, and one-half ) below one-half above the mean sea-level?at r high tide the portion of this strip of earth s crust which lies seaward is subjected to f much greater pressure than when the sea is . at its mean level; at low tide it is subjected t to much less pressure. It is clear that this 3 constant variation of pressure on one-half . of the region must have a tendency to produce openings or cracks running parallel to i the coast-line, and that though the strength f of the crust might usually be able to with3 stand the effects of this constantly varying ; strain, there must be certain of the many 3 thousands of miles of coast-line on the s earth's surface where the chances of strain 1 would at times become too great to be re1 sisted, and submarine fractures would ensue. a * + ? ? : A Change for the Better.?There are . more temperance organizations and socities 3 in the country to-day, more men who are r total aDStainers, tnan at any tune in iu> nisj tory. There are three or four States where . the sentiment against the use of intoxicaf ting drink is so strong that their Legisla. tures have been compelled to adopt strin gent legislation on the subject. The memof ry of most men living can recall the time j when the National Congress, the Senate as i well as the House of Representatives, wit1 nessed scenes of intoxication that shocked i and disgraced the whole country. Strong 3 drink was openly sold in both wings of the ) Capitol at Washington, and it was an ordi nary occurrence to see drunken Senators and Representatives staggering through the 3 corridors to their seats in the two branches t of the National Legislature. It is true that 1 liquor is still sold there; but it is in violation of the rules. The Congressional revel1 ry has come to an end, and no man who is t known as a habitual drunkard, no matter . how great his ability or how excellent in , other respects, can retain his seat in either 1 body. This is true of nearly all the State i Legislatures. Ninety per cent, of the office1 holders of the country, State and Federal, 1 are men of temperate habits. They cannot, in fact, be elected or appointed if their lives r are, in this respect, a scandal. In private i business houses the same rule applies. The t clerk who is a heavy drinker is very soon 5 invited to seek another position.?Neic York i Hour. } Wielding the Gavel.?The Washing[ ton correspondent of the Cleveland Leader ) says : The Speaker's desk is a sort of marble pulpit, behind which Mr. Carlisle sits in ! a great arm-chair, and holds in his right . hand the ebony handle of an ivory-headed y gavel. This, in a case of disorder, which ? very often occurs, he brings down with a r thunderinL' ran unon the board ton of the , marble pulpit. It sounds when used with vigor like the shot of a pistol, and is the terror of long-winded speakers. Mr. Carlisle uses the gavel lightly, but little Sam Cox, when he gets in the chair, brings it down with all his might, and once when he was raising it up for a mighty stroke the head came off and flew to the 'floor. Often the gavel breaks and then a new one is procured. Sam Randall was very hard on gavels, and broke a great many during his term as Speaker. He has the remains of these in a cabinet at home, which he shows to visitors as a sign of his former power. One of these is a beautiful one which he got during his last term as Speaker. It was made by a Georgia mechanic of 110 pieces of hickory wood. S?y Queen Victoria is a well known personage?better known by that name tnan by any other. Yet in view of possible contingencies it is well enough for newspaper folks to have her proper name at hand. She was the grand-daughter of George Guelph alias George III. Her father's name was Edward Guelph alias the Duke of Kent, and she was in common parlance Miss Victoria Alexandrine Guelph. She married Francis Albert Augustus Charles Emanuel Wettin, alias the Duke of Saxe and Prince of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. And now in plain ononnli eliA ic flio WofHn '' nu^cvit 10 niv ?? iviv ?* w vivnii $??* In this country a city is a municipality comprising one or more villages. In England, however, a city is usually a corporate town, which is a bishop's see, and has a cathedral church; a town is an assemblage of houses, usually having a market, or a subdivision of a county. In early times the word town was applied only to such a collection of buildings as was surrounded by a wall. A village is the same in England as in this country. Unsafe.?The man who puts off marriage until he has earned or acquired sufficient property to maintain a style 01 life that pride and worldly ambition suggest is in great danger of missing both happiness and honor in the relation. He is likely to become the victim of craft and design on the part of those who court his money and position rather than himsef.