Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 03, 1884, Image 1

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j Slit Jjnbepenbent Jftitmlj ^tifospayfrt Jfor % ^promotion of % political, Social, ^grintlhiral anb Commercial Interests of t|e Soiitlj. j TERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 30. YOEKYILLB, S. O., THURSDAY, JULY 3, 1884. NO. 37. jptlerted ? oettg. THE RIVER. The lights of the city glimmer In the swift, black wave below; . Like ghosts that flit in the gloamiug, The white ships come and go. White and dim and stately, The good ships seaward go, Luck to you, captains and sailors, However the winds may blow. White and dim and stately, The good ships homeward throng; Welcome, captains and sailors, Your voyage has been long! And sweethearts' eyes shall glisten, And wives shall lovful be, As the little children listen To your tales of the stormy sea. But what are the wrecks you tell of To the wreck of a lovelike mine ! The river murmurs and glitters ; Above, the cold stars stnne. NAMESAKES. "Close the shutters, Kitty. What a wild night it is to be sure!" "The rain is coming down in floods," said | a young girl, peering out in the pitchy darkness. A barrack ground (stiff and ugly under the most favorable circumstances), looking like some desert waste in the howling wind and driving rain, was just visible. "Why, Aunt Belle," she continued, pausing with one hand on the shutter, "here is a name scratched on this pane of glass. I never noticed it till this minute." "What is the name?" asked the old lady, indifferently, half asleep in her cosy armchair by the fireside. ^ "K-i-n-l-o-c-h?'Kinloch, Scots Greys, 1816,'" read the girl; and then 'Kitty' | written very badly just below." "Kinloch! Kitty!" said Aunt Belle, starting up with a sudden interest. "Why that must be the same man?" Then she sank back again, murmuring: "Ah, Kitty, there was love in those days, and romance too!" j "Is there love now?" said her niece, coming to her aunt's side and kneeling down ~ on the hearth rug. The ruddy flames and glow from the fire \ lit up the girl's chestnut hair, fair complex- : ion and bright, hazel eyes. Aunt Belle looked lovingly down at the piquant little face held up to her, and said: "JNow and again-we meet some of the right kind; but would you like to hear the story of that namesake of yours, Kitty?" "Very much." "Well, fifty years ago as you can easily reckon, I was a girl of 1(5 and was invited to cruanri fhp summer months with mv aunt. who then had one of the finest houses in this county of Kildare. "Several regiments were stationed at the camp and at the neighboring village, so you may imagine the girls of the party and I looked forward to having a gay time. Oh! those few, short summer months, Kitty! I grow young again when I think of them! the rides across the Curraah in the fresh morning air, when in parties of ten or twelve we would gallop for miles on those breezy streches of Emerald turf; the handsome officers who enjoyed having hicfe and seek in the dusky evening hours all over the old fashioned house, starting out of the corners and from behind the doors and chas-, ing us breathless down the slippery oaken corridors. Then, tired out, we would stroll into the gardens and under the trees there would be songs, flirtations and whispered confidences and promises made by the score and never fulfilled. "What a mad, merry time it was! And the maddest, the merriest, the handsomest of all was a young Scotch Lieutenant, Kinloch Kinloch. His mother was Irish, and had bequeathed her good looks and propensity for joking. And now for Kitty, the he v roine. She was the daughter of an old gardner who lived about a mile away from ray aunt's house, and of all the distractingly pretty women that have made men do foolish things, I am sure Kitty was one of the prettiest." "What was she like?" "No description could come up to the original; but I can tell you that she had the Irish blue eyes; a complexion like milk; hair of the brightest and silkiest chestnut, curling in little rings over her brow and neck, and a slender, upright figure, the envy of half our girls. One day as a large party of us were standing, chatting under the trees, Kitty passed us with a basket of fruit."" "Kinloch for the first time noticed the girl and seemed struck dumb with amazement. "He stood at a little distance and kept his eyes fixed on her. "It was love from that very moment and every one noticed it. "All the other young fellows of course immediately swarmed round the girl's basket and began helping themselves with mot 441} tmm* lootrn " au 1UUU1 OO JV/U1 ivm v.. , "Kitty began expostulating, but they put her off. "Sure, Kitty," said one, 'and you would like us to have the best, I'll he bound.' "And another, 'Mahone, "one kiss from that cheek with the bloom of the peach upon it will save you from these rascally thieves, for I will fight them all for such a j favor.' "But Kitty would not be bribed, and I seemed about to resign herself to the loss of | her fruit when Khiloch shouldered his way | into the group, end giving the last speaker a friendly push, cried, 'Leave the girl alone, Grant*!' And then, turning to Kitty, took thi basket out of her hands, saying, 'Itloo heavy for your little arms, and there will 110 one come stealing your fruit now, I'm thinking.' "'Thank you,' said Kitty gratefully, and walked along by his side. "'That is the first time I have seen "my larl\r>> ollrvvL* ?>nv nnp tn fpfph nr onrrv fnr 1/ ^ 4i. * her,'said my brother. 44 'There is no gainsaying Kinloch then,! as I can tell you, Ilarry!' I cried; 4for he1 always gets his own way in what he! wants to.' 44 'Especially when it has to do with pretty j girls!' sneered Grant. "'Treason!' we all shouted in a breath. I 'Kinloch is the same to us all, and to every-1 body.' 44 'Of course,' said Grant, recovering his : temper; 'but are you not all pretty girls!" j "We laughed, and did not deny the soft' impeachment ; so that the momentary1 breach was healed. "That was the last time we noticed Kitty coming up to our house with her fruit. "We knew nothing we could have said or done would have prevented her, but we were not quite so sure about Kinloch, who, ^ ever since that little episode, had wandered j about like a distressed lover. "One day we met Kitty in one of the j lanes, and said to her, 'How is it you never come our way now?' The girl blushed. '"Father prefers to take up the things himself,' she murmured; for which painfully apparent fib we instantly forgave her. "The days passed on, and Kinloch, who had before been the life of our expedition, j was now generally absent. "Where he had been was evident, fori we often caught a glimpse of chestnut hair shining through the tree, or the old picturesque shawl draped over Kitty's head and j shoulders, with her round, dimpled arms appearing just below. "Kinloch's regiment had been ordered away to another part of Ireland ; and one morning, a few days before he was to go, we begged for his company to a picnic we had arranged to have with one or two other families. " 'Thanks very much,' he said; 'but I am ; afraid I shall be too busy.' " *Oh, but you must come!' we all cried. 'We counted upon you.' "'But I?I have so many things to do to-day.' "Here he stopped and blushed. "We girls were looking very inquisitive, and some of the men nad a perceptible sneer on their faces. " 'He has got his lady-love to bid good-by ! to, I dare say,' suggested Philip Grant. "Kinloch turned on him with blazing J eyes. We all kept back. They were like globes of fireu "'Confound it, sir!' he cried, 'and supI pose I have, what is that to you ?' "We all looked at Philip. He was very I white, but he shrugged his shoulders inj differently and wisely forebore to answer. "Kinloch's temper cooled down as rapidly I as it had arisen. " 'I am sorry to disappoint you, girls,' he said gently, 'out you will have to excuse me.' And, bowing, he walked off." "We watched his upright, manly figure striding along till he disappeared, and then we all looked at each other and sighed. 44 4A clear case,' said one girl. 44 4Head over heels.' 44 4What will he do?' 4 4 4How can he marry her?' 44 'Kitty can look after herself.' 44 'But I am sure she is in love; she has never been before.' 44 'He will go away and forget her'? He pave the bridal rein a shake, Saiu 'Adieu! for evermore, My love! And adieu for evermore.' " I 44 'Never!' said I; 'nothing of the kind j will happen. I am sure he will marry her.' "That evening lvinloch made his way to I the old gardner's cottage. His face was pale ! but he had a determined look in the corners of his mouth, and he carried his head well thrown back and stepped lightly along. "The girl had just set her father's supper before him, and had gone out to rest in the garden and watch the still beauties of the night. "The air was fresh, and in the heavens the full moon was hurrying through its starspangled course. The reeds in a neighboring stream rustled and shivered in the i breeze, and a large night-moth or two came I sailing up and bumped against Kitty's white kerchief on their way to the fatal i candle shining in the window. "The girl looked up to the sky and tears filled her eyes. "Was it the brightness of the moon ? 44 4 Why do you weep, Kitty ?' said a voice at her side. "No need to turn to look for the speaker. The girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed afresh. 44 'You are going away !' she said. 44 'Yes, I am going away,' said Kinloch ; 'but you will come with me, Kitty, for you love me.' 44 4I love you, but I shall not accompany you.' "But you must. I have spoken to the old priest and he is ready to marry us.' 44 'Kinloch,' she said, looking up into her lover's face with a sweet, serious smile, 'you have made me love you, for I could not help it: but you cannot make me marry you.' 44 4Oh ! but you will, darling, won't you, Kitty?' he went on, eagerly. 'You know I can marry now, because I came of age the other day, and I have much more than my pav now. Is that what you are thinking of?' "'How could 1 thiuK aoounnair wny will you uot understand, Kinloch ? Your proud old father and your silver-haired stately mother, how could they bear for one of their sons to marry an Irish peasant girl?' "You have nothing to learn fromthehighest lady in the land, my darling,' he said, fondly; 'and younger sons are not expected to marry heiresses." "But she shook her head resolutely. " 'And is this how you lightly fling away a man's happiness for life?' " 'A few days' pain now, to save you years of regret in the future.' "Tne young man looked at the girl perplexed. Where could she have learned such sentiments? Where had she gained the strength to express them so freely ? "He then said slowly and solemnly, as if taking an oath: Look yonder Kitty! That is the evening star. So surely as it will shine in the heavens five, ten or twenty years, as surely will my love remain unchanged for you. Bid me come back when you will, Kitty, and if I have breath in my hndv and stronpfth to do it-. I will come." "Come back in ten years, Kinloch. I will be true to you and wait till then. I will try and improve myself?make myself more worthy of your love." " 'Keep as you are, Kitty; remain unchanged,' said the young man, jealously, 'lest when I come again I shall not see in you the last look I took away with me, my life, my love!" he murmured, passionately, and kissing her sweet brow and mouth, folding hp-r in one last embrace, he sighed and left-fier. "She'turned to go into the cottage. A largeflowny moth which had been bumping against the little window sailed in before her, circled thrice round the candle and flew up into its alluring brightness. The candle flickered and went out; the moth dropped down with a thud upon the table, dead. "Kitty, with eyes blinded by tears and with shaking hands, relit, though somewhat tardily, the light. " 'Kitty, my girl,' said the old man, pointing significantly to the singed insect, don't be as foolish as that silly thing. Its eyes were dazzled, and it had no strength to resist the fatal fascination.' "'Father," said the girl, stooping down and kissing his gray locks, 'you may trust me.'" Here Aunt Belle stopped. I "Is it interesting? Shall I go on." "Oh, do ! Did he come back ?" said her neice. "Well, the years passed on and the girl was joked and teased and had many offers of marriage ; oui sne was nrm ana wouiu listen to none. "At last the young fellows grew weary of their fruitless attempts at love-making and the greater part left ner alone. "A few more unkind would ask her when she expected her young gentleman home and taunted her in cutting speeches and insinuations. "Nine years went by and then there came the battle of Waterloo when officers and men went down in hundreds together. "Still no word from Kinloch, and Kitty's heart, which had never failed in its lightness, nor her step in its speed, now sank and faltered tor the tirst time. "Early in the next year?in fact, on New Year's night?the officers gave a ball, and every girl and young man for miles around was invited. "Girls were in great demand, and I went down to my aunt's house especially for that night. "I was anxious to see Kitty myself, and to find out how the years had passed over her head. "You think, perhaps, twenty-six was rather old to be called a girl?do you Kitty ? "Well, 1 felt almost the same as when I was sixteen, and quite as ready to enjoy a dance or flirtation, I can assure you. "Kate Daly?that was her name?went to help the ladies unshawl themselves, and to be ready with needle and thread when an ! unhappy damsel with torn skirt or flounce should require her assistance. "She was then 28, and the young girlish beauty had developed into the most lovely of women. Only when her face was at rest, and you caught the suspicion of an anxious heart upon it, would you have guessed her age. "She wore a pale tea-rose-tinted gown, with ruttles of lace of her own making at the neck and sleeves. "It was a wild and stormy night without, just such a one as this, but it only served to ; enhance the brightness and animation of I the scene within. "The dancing of the high-heeled shoes and I the silvery laughter rose higher than the wail of the wind, and the tinkling wine cups drowned all sound of rain. "Suddenly there was a lull; we stopped our dances; a chill blast seemed to have entered the room ; we turned and saw a silent dark figure standing in the doorway. He was tall and handsome, but his large black cloak, carefully slung over his shoulder, was dripping with rain and making large pools on the floor. His legs, booted ana spurred, were mud up to the nips. "Just at that moment the clock struck 12 and the year 1816 had broken. Some of the more excitable girls screamed and ran behind their partners. "Was it an apparation? Was it an ill omen for the coming year? "Kitty at that moment was bringing in a jug of iced claret at another door. "She heard the voice and turned round, trembling, with a wild cry, 'Kinloch, Kinloch, I knew you would come back !' And amid a crash of breaking glass?for she let the vessel slip from her hands?she bounded to his side and then disappered in the folds of the great cloak." "How splendid, Aunt Belle!" said her niece, drawing a deep breath; "but if she married mm men, i ao not see wny sue should not have done so before. "Ah, but she was a wise girl, little one; she knew it would test his constancy and prove if he really loved her. A young man's love at 21 (as she knew very well) would not be his choice at 31." "What became of them, aunt?" "Oh, they married and traveled about a food deal, and finally both died out in ndia within a few months of each other. There was one son, and I believe he is in the army also. Come, Kitty, I shall go to bed, and not wait up any longer for your father." "There is a new lieutenant coming in Mr. Perry's place," said her niece as she bade her good night. "The young men are not what they used to be," sighed the old lady. "Some little whipper-snapper, I'll be bound, with feet that would go into your slippers. Good night, child!" Kitty went slowly down stairs and pondered over in her mind the story of beautiful Kate Daly and the faithful Kinloch. She went to the window and undid the shutter. She pictured to herself the young man coming to the window and scratching his name on the glass, and then the girl's hand in his own, slowly guiding it just below. She leaned in the deep shadow of the window-seat and strove to realize each scene in the little drama. There, under that very door stood the black-robed figure they had all shrunk away from in the midst of their mirth. What? Was she dreaming? What stood there at that very moment? A figure darker than the gloom of the room. The rain poured in floods outside, and the wind whistled and moaned round the corners of the house. The figure came a little further into the room. She saw by the misty light, he was a tall man with a dark cloak over his shoulders, booted and spurred, with mud up to his hips. She felt as if the whole scene was to be played again before her very eyes ; but she looked in vain for the pretty girls and ladies in their puffed sleeves and short waists, their flowing curls and high-heeled shoes. Kitty?where was she ? And here she blushed to herself in the darkness. There was a Kitty; but not the one. The man came up to the window, evidently thinking no one was in the room. The ?irl shrank back as the wet cloak brushe<Fagainst her cheek. "Kinloch !" she said, half doubting whether the figure would answer, for she could hardly tell yet if she were dreaming or no. "Who spoke my name?" he called out, startled and looking around. "I did," said Kitty, feeling very abashed, almost at his elbow. He glanced down, drawing away her cloak. "I am sure I beg your pardon. I thought the room was empty. I must have come into the wrong quarters; arriving so late, I must have mistaken the block. I hope you will forgive such an intrusion ?" Kitty's grand castles in the air all fell to the ground with a crash. How commonplace! He was only the new lieutenant, after all; but he did not look the whippersnapper her aunt had prophesied. "Then you are not Kinloch?" she said, in a disappointed tone. "My name is Kinloch," he answered with a pleasant smile. "My aunt was telling me about this Kinloch." And Kitty tapped the frame with her finger. "I will tell you the story some 1 * lr/i ? iTAn /tatviA i n f f liA 11 )uu imu ) uut jr l;u kuuu iiii.u mv> room just as she said your namesake did, dressed in the same way and everything. But there! I suppose you are not even a relation." "He was my father," said the young man quietly. "So it is no wonder we are something alike." It was his turn to say in a disappointed tone, "But your name is not Kitty, I am sure." "Yes, it is," said Kitty, eagerly. Then she stopped; a sudden rosy flush rushed over her face. "At least, no?it is?" Butshecould not deny it, for it was Kitty. "These are our namesakes; shall we write our names below them, Kitty?" "Some day?perhaps." Character in Hand-Siiakixo.?1The different modes of shaking hands will delineate human character better than any other single act can do, and many peculiarities of different persons may be noted in the performance of this social custom. i Who would expect to get a handsome do i-!~ .* 4- ,*11 A.^wv* r* ,v>n? nit nun?ui ixuy uuxjciuuix ui an?uuui a man who will give two fingers to be shaken, and keeps the. others bent as upon an "itching palm ?" The hand coldly held out to be shaken and drawn away again as soon as it decently may be, indicates a cold, selfish character, while the hand which seeks yours cordially, and unwillingly relinquishes its warm clasp, ' gives token of a genial disposition, and of a heart full of sympathy for humanity. How much that is in the heart can be made to express itself through the agency of the fingers! Who, having once experienced it, has ever forgotten the feeling < conveyed by the eloquent pressure of the hand from a dying friend when the tongue has ceased to speak ? A right hearty grasp of the hand indicates warmth and ardor, while a soft, lax touch, without grasp, indicates the opposite characteristics. In the grasp of persons with large-hearted, generous minds, there is a "wnole-soul" expression most refreshing and acceptable to kindred spirits. But when a man presents you with a few cold, clammy, lifeless fingers, feeling very much like a dead fish, and expects you to do all the shaking, it will naturally make you think of the hospital, and other cheerful things. Contrary to this style, there is a habit among a rude class, of giving your hand a crushing grasp, which is often most painful. In these cases there may be great kindness, and a "strong" affection, but it is as crude as it is hearty. If the grasp is warm, ardent and vigorous, so is the disposition. If it is magnetic and animating, the disposition is the same. As we shake hands, so we feel?so we are. But why do we shake hands at all ? It is a very old fashioned way of indicating friendship. We read in the Bible that Jehu said to Jonadab: "Is thy heart right as my heart is with thine heart? If it be, give methine hand." And it is not merely an old-fashioned custom. It is the contact of sensitive and magnetic surfaces, through which there is, in something more than merely a figurative sense, an interchange of feeling. The same principle is illustrated in another of our modes of greeting. When we wish to reciprocate the warmer feelings, we are not content with the contact of hands, we bring the lips into service.? Unknown. jfvttgn ^onesjiijudcnce, ENGLISH AND IRISH CITIES LIVERPOOL, DUBLIN, BELFAST. Highly Interesting Descriptive Letters?A Bird's Eye Vieu) of Liverpool?Dublin?Belfast?The Irish Character as Developed in the Cities?The Public Institutions of Belfast?Its Churches and SchoolsCommercial and Industrial Enterprises?The Pan-Presbyterian Council. [Correspondence of the Yorkville Enquirer.] Belfast Ireland, June 12.?My last was dated Monday, June 9th, in sight of Holyhead. At 11.15 we reached Liverpool, and after considerable time spent in examining the baggage, by the Custom House officers, I had mine conveyed totheLancastershire and Yorkshire Railway depot. After a good dinner, at the Royal Hotel, I set out to see the sights of the city. Providentially, in New York, I formed the acquaintance of Mr. David Douglas, a linen merchant. Thirty-six years ago, Mr. Douglas left Belfast, Ireland, and began business in the city of New York. In the pursuit of his business, he has crossed the Atlantic one hundred times. He is well acquainted with all the large cities, both in Great Britain and on the Continent of Europe. To a raw traveler, such a man as Mr. Douglas, is of incalculable value, especially if he is, like Mr. Douglas, disposed to make himself agreea ble and useful to his friends. The first thing that engaged my attention was the Liverpool Docks. These are several miles long?all solid masonry, of the most substantial kind. I had no idea that there was anything in the world to compare with New York; but my conclusion in that, as in many other things, was not only erroneous, but grossly absurd. I might have expected Liverpool to surpass New York. Liverpool was an old town when Manhattan Island, on which New York is built, was sold for the small sum ot twenty-four dollars. The first thing that presents itself'to the American in England is the massiveness of everything. The houses are not only large, but they seem to have been erected so as to be the contemporaries of time itself. The walls are thick and strong, as if designed to withstand the fierce canonnadingof a hostile foe. Iron and stone are used in England where wood and sand are used in America. I do not know what are the facts in the case, but it seems that a fire in Liverpool must be a thing of rare occurrence. In the materials used in the construction of by far the larger number of the houses, private and public, there is nothing combustible except the flooring. The walls are either of stone or brick, and the roofs of slate, so that a fire might be built on top of the houses, and all around them, and no great danger be incurred. The country between Liverpool and Fleetwood, a distance of about forty miles, is perfectly delightful. The farms are all worked with greater care than vegetable gardens are in our country. In fact, the farms are generally nothing but what we are accustomed to call vegetable gardens or truck farms. The principal thing that I saw growing is Irish potatoes. A very large quantity of the land is in grass. The grass lots are separated by hedges of hawthorne and privet. In these lots herds of cattle and flocks of sheep are fed. The thought occurred to me that thestock of England must be a better disposed breed than what we have in our country. I do not be' i-i L. i. ,1 1 neve tnai our cows wouiu uc rtsuauieu uy the hedges, which certainly are very weak. The horses used in Liverpool are the most enormous creatures of their kind that I have ever seen. They are fit for nothing but drawing heavy loads. They are awkward in their movements and ugly in their appearance. Their legs are like huge posts and are covered with long, coarse hair. Their feet are larger than a peck measure. 1 feel safe in saying that I saw several horses in Liverpool that will weigh near three thousand pounds. Three of these huge animals are often attached to the same wagon, which resembles in size a railroad freight car more than an ordinary wagon. The tire on the wheels of these wagons is very broad, and the whole wagon is so constructed as to make it, in every respect, as strong and as ugly as possible. The streets of Liverpool arc very irregular, but very fine. They are paved with stones about the size of our bricks, and fully as neat in appearance as our bricks. The side-walks are all paved with smooth, broad stones. Liverpool is constantly alive with moving men and women, but there is not that rush that is seen in our northern cities. In New York everybody seems to be in a hurry. Such is notthecase in Liverpool? everybody moves along briskly, but not in a run. Generally the people, even the laborers, are well clothed. The laborers are all white. I saw only one colored man in Liverpool. I took a trood look at him, for I con fess that his black face caused me to think of home. I had not seen a colored man since leaving New York, all the servants on board the Austral being white. The colored man that I saw in Liverpool seemed to be out of place. Evidently, he felt lonely. He looked sad and woe-begone. There was none of that sprightly pomposiity which the colored people of our Southern towns display. In England, thesystem of railroads is very different from what it is in America. The roads, in their construction, are far superior to ours; but in the manner of operating them, the American system is far superior to that of the English. The beds of railroads in England are better constructed than | they are in America. The crossties are larger than those used in America, and the rails are heavier and appear to be of the best material?all steel. The clamps which fasten the rails to the crossties are very different from those used by our railroads. The crossties are placed nearer together than is common in our country, and there is a clamp on every crosstie. An English locomotive, in its external appearance, only faintly resembles an American locomotive. The wheels, except that part of them which rests upon the mils, are concealed in an iron casing. In fact, the whole engine is enveloped in a covering of iron, so that none of its movements, except those of backward and forward, areseen. The passenger coaches, or carriages, as they are called, are entered by side-doors, and not at the ends, as are our coaches. The passengers are not all placed pell-mell in the coaches, as is done in our country, but each carriage is designed to carry eight passengers. Theseats in these carriages are, like the seats in the old American stage coach, so constructed that t-ho nneunnorpr?i fslPP PSlph ntllPr. The Seats are comfortable?in fact, they are very comfortable?with the exception that one half of the passengers are under the painful necessity of riding backwards and all are forced to gaze each other in the face. At every station the conductor conies round and announces the name of the station. There is no chance for passengers to get out at the stations and stand about on the platform until the train starts again. Before the train moves off the doors of each carriage are locked by the conductor, who retains the key. The arrangement about baggage is very defective, and calculated to give travelers greatuneasiness. The system of checking baggage has only, in some few instances, ; been introduced by the railroads of Great Britain. The baggage is all put into what they call the van. On each piece a label is placed, which indicates its destination. This is far inferior to the system of checks used by our railroads. The road from Liverpool to Fleetwood is, as already intimated, through a delightful country. The people are largely engagaged in manufacturing. The farms, as before stated, are cultivated like gardens. Every nook of ground is either cultivated or in grass. Even the railroad banks are all covered with grass. There are many groves of small trees, but the ground is all covered with grass. There are no fields washed into gullies. Preston, between Liverpool and Fleetwood, is one of the largest cotton inanfacturing towns in England? perhaps in the world. Fleetwood is situated on the river Wyre. The tide rises at this point thirty feet, and so rapidly that it is said a man can scarcely get out of its way. Boats of a very excellent class run every night from Fleetwood to Belfast. These Fleetwood boats run in connection with the Lancastershire and Yorkshire railway. The distance from Liverpool to Belfast, by way of Fleetwood, is greater than by boat directly to Belfast; but by way of Fleetwood it is quicker and much more pleasant. About five o'clock on the morning of the 10th I landed at Belfast. At that moment the dream of my life was partly realized. During my whole life I have heard so much and read so much about Ireland and Scotland that a constant desire has been in my bosom to see these Islands. I will close this and begin with Belfast in my next. It may, however, be a matter of interest and a subject of wonder to state that there seems to be no night in Belfast. I wrote the most of this letter after 1) o'clock last night, with out a lamp or candle, and this morning I awoke at 3 and it was as light as day. I do not know when day breaks. I see, by examining McComb's Almanac, that the sun rose this morning at 3.35 and will set this afternoon at 8.33. According to this, we will have to-day sixteen hours of sunshine. Nothwithstanding this fact it is cold?very cold. The people here regard it as very warm weather for June, but I feel as if it might be the first of March. The cold has been severe, that is, severe to a Southern man, ever since we left New York. It. Lathan. Belfast, Ireland, June 13.?As stated in my letter yesterday, I landed at Belfast on the morning of June the 10th, instant. The passage was made from Fleetwood on the boat Wyre, which bears the name of the river on which is situated the town of Fleetwood. I inadvertently omitted to mention one thing in connection with Fleetwood, which struck me at the time with astonishment, and the relating of the fact may be a ground of wonder and astonishment to your readers. The thing to which I refer is the piles of iron which are heaped up along the several railroad tracks which converge at this point. These piles of iron have the general appearance of the cord wood which is seen, at convenient intervals, by the side of our Southern railroads. This cord-wood, as all of your readers know, is used as fuel for the engines. It is generally cord length and cord height, but the length of the pile is determined by the quantity of wood. The Siles of iron at Fleetwood are, I think, fully ve feet high and not less than eight feet wide, and extend, perhaps, a mile in length. These piles are built up parallel to each other one on each side of a railroad track. The number of piles I had no means of ascertaining, but together they cover several acres of ground. On landing at Belfast, by the advice of my friend Mr. David Douglas, I went to the Imperial Hotel and was assigned to a room. The first impression made on the mind of a traveler with regard to a town or city is by the Hotel at which he stops. If this is comfortable the impression is favorable in behalf of the whole place ; if it is uncomfortable the impression is unfavorable with respect to the place as a whole. This is founded on the principle that Christian civilization makes man comfortable, while whatever is not of Christianity is calculated to make him miserable or brutish. WhethTtvtrk/iMin 1 Jo 4-V*/-? l\Aof ViAfnl in Palfacf, CI LUC llijpciiai IO LUC VJCOL HVlLi ill X/VI?(WV or not I cannot say. I suppose there are many equal to it, and it may be, some superior to it. Be this as it may, the Imperial is every thing that mortal man could desire. The room which I occupy is furnished with every thing that is calculated to render the occupantcomfortable. The bed is, I believe, the best on which I ever stretched my weary bones. Nothing but a guilty conscience could drive sleep away from one reclining upon such a bed. Some wag said he was disappointed in the Atlantic. It was not as big and stormy as he thought it was. I confess I was disappointed in Belfast. It is a great deal larger than I thought it was. Belfast is not an old town, hoary with years. The name Belfast isaeorruption of beol, which means a ford, and fearaad, which means a sand-bank. This being the derivation of the word, I suppose there was, at one time, a sand bank in a ford somewhere near by, in the river Lagan. About the year 1178 there was a castle built within the present limit of the town, but it was taken and destroyed by Edward Bruce, the brother of the celebrated Itobert Bruce. After this, for a period of more than four hundred years, little is known of the history of Belfast. During the reigns of Elizabeth and her successor, James I., a large portion of what is known as the province of Ulster was converted, by the ravages of war, into an howling waste. In 1004 the territory in which Belfast is situatea fell into the hands of Sir Arthur Chichester. A castle was erected on the spot on which stood the one destroyed by Edward Bruce. This last one was accidentally destroyed by fire in 1708, the three ladies Chichester perishing in the flames. For a longtime the town grew but slowly and had but little importance. In 1757 it contained only 1800 inhabitants. The land on which the city is built, at one time belonged to Lord Donegall. The town did not begin to grow until within the last fifty years. At present the number of inhabitants is between 225,000 and 250,000. Dublin, the capital of Ireland, is larger than Belfast but not so prosperous. Belfast is situated on the Lough of Belfast, by which it is divided into two parts, one part being in County Antrim, and the other in County Down. That part in County Down is called by the ugly and hard-to-pronunce name Ballymacarret. In Belfast, including Ballymacarret and their suburbs, there are one hundred and twelve churches and places of worship. Of these, twenty-six are in connection with the Episcopalian or Church of Ireland; thirty-three are Presbyterian ; six are Catholic; twenty are Methodist; seven are non-subscribing or Unitarian ; one is United Presbyterian; two are Reformed Presbyterian; one is an Original Secession Church; two are Evangelical Union Churches; three are Independent; one is a Friends' Meeting-IIouse; three are Baptist; one is Moravian ; one is a Jewish Synagogue; and five are connection with the Plymouth Brethren. It will bo seen that there is a church for every two hundred inhabitants. The Presbyterian church is largely in the ascendancy, both in point of numbers and wealth; but the other denominations exercise a very considerable control in the city. OU icll un ti v.<iu *nn?<vitants of Belfast are generally sober and industrious. In iny intercourse with the citizens I have found them intelligent and courteous. The notion is abroad in the world that an Irishman is a kind of rough 1 and uncouth creature, whose whole force liesin & repartee. In this he certainly excels, but he can be sober at times, and in his own ( country, and in his own house, I find him a j gentleman. The public institutions of Belfast are 11 u- ! merous. Much attention is paid to educa- 1 tion. In connection with many, perhaps 1 the majority, of the churches, there is a school house. This and the manse or parsonage, are often on the church lot. The 1 school is under the supervision of the pastor. 1 Besides these schools, there is the Belfast Academy ; the Belfast Government School 1 of Art; the Belfast Ladies'Collegiate School; the Belfast National District Model School; Brown Street Sunday and Daily Schools; : the Christ Church Sunday and Daily School; ' the Drew Memorial School; the Durham Street National Schools; the General Assembly's College; the Methodist College; Queen's College; the Royal Academy Institute; two Shorthand Institutes; St. Anne's i Parochial School; St. Malachy's College, and St. Malachy's Diocesan College. Besides the above there are, as is the 1 case in every civilized country, many private schools. In the city there are several 1 Eublic libraries. The most important, peraps, of these is the Belfast Library. In this collection there are more than 17,000 rare volumes. Through the co.urtesy of a friend, I am honored with the privilege of visiting this library whenever and as often as I may see fit. In this connection it may be remarked that Belfast is well supplied with book-stores, and these are well stocked with standard works; but books are dear?very dear?when compared with what they are in America. I suppose in no country are books so cheap as in the United States." In addition to this the general get up of books in the United States is better than in any country. Why this is, 1 do not know. The streets of Belfast are certainly superior in many respects to any thing 1 have ever seen. For miles in any and every direction they are nearly perfectly level. The ground on which Belfast is built is a valley lying between the river Lagan and Belfast Lough on the east, and a range of mountains on the west. The streets are well paved with small stones and kept as clean as a floor. Every morning, not only the sidewalks, but the whole street, is swept with a peculiar broom prepared for the purpose. Whatever filth may have settled on the streets during the previous day is collected into heaps and then hauled away by carts. There is no chance for the streets to become either muddy or dusty. The suburban scenery of Belfast, without being either grand or picturesque, is charmingly beautiful. On the west and northwest there is a short range of mountains. Two peaks, Devis and Cave Hill, are easily seen from any part of the city. The northeastern terminus of Cave Hill presents a readily discovered profile of the first Napoleon. To one who has never seen this before, the sight produces strange feelings and stranger thoughts. On the south-eastern slope of Cave Hill stands the seat of the Donegall family. That which makes Belfast an important city is its manufactories. It is the greatest linen manufacturing city in Ireland, and, I think, in the world. Besides the manufacturing of linen, Belfast is extensively engaged in ship-building. At Belfast the steamers of the White Star Line are built. These are said to the handsomest and fleetest ve&sels afloat. I have not the time and much less have I the ability, to describe the many interesting things which are to be seen in this, the greatest manufacturing and trading town in Ireland. Such being the case, I will desist, at least for the present. It is men and women that make cities and districts of country what they are; hence the question may be asked, What about the people of Belfast? In answer to this question, it may be replied, in a general way, that physically the people as a whole appear to be healthy, strong and vigorous. They are of medium height and strongly built. One would conclude, from their dress, that by far the greater number of the inhabitants even of the laboring class are in comfortable circumstances. All seem to be well fed on good, substantial food. As is the case in every county, and especially in all'large cities, there are some persons who present a woe-begone aspect. The number of this class of persons In Belfast is, however, very small in proportion to the number of inhabitants. Everybody seems to be working steadily and diligently, but not rushing. The girls are, if not beautiful, a good deal more than good-looking. Their faces present a fresh appearance which paint and starch cannot give. I suppose I may say that the people of Belfast are a refined people, be i.i x x ciiuse uitjy iretvt evcij' unc puuicii. I have not seen the face of a colored man since I came the place. I understand that there are a few in the city, and that they are generally employed as cooks. The citizens of Belfast, I understand, are making extensive preparation for the accommodation of the members of the PanPresbyterian Council. Many of the delegates have arrived and are scattered over England, Ireland and Scotland, engaged in sight-seeing. To-day I expect to go to the country, that I may see the Irishman in his country home. I will take the train to Ballymena, thence to Ahohil, that I may find the graves of my ancestors. R. LATHAN. The Southern Negro's Dog.?When you come to study the matter you will find just as much difference between the southern negro's dog and the white man's dog, as there is between a canine owned by a negro and one which comes when a Senator snaps his fingers. The Southern colored man who is too poor to have a mule, ox, pig, fowls, doors, windows, or fire-place in his cabin, has a dog?sometimes four or five. When he comes to town at least one follows him. When you pass his home the whole family of canines bark at you from a distance, or silently gaze at you from the door-step. The'negro's dog is a slouch. He is built on wrong principles to begin with, {t would seem as if half of him had been on earth for a year or two before the other half was hitched on. He seems to realize that he isn't "purty," and he behaves accordingly. He is almost invariably of a dun-color. He sidles along where other dogs trot, and if he isn't stump-tailed he is a lucky canine. He follows alon^ in a humble manner, as if begging pardon for being on earth, and the smallest whiffet can scare him until his eyes stand out like peeled onions. You never sec one misbehave in town. He sits under the wagon, if there is one; if not, he follows his master's heels up and down and around in abject humility, ready to run at the slightest alarm?ready to return as soon as danger has passed. Step on him and he will not show a tooth ; speak to him and he skips out with his tail dragging. The master may be ever so independent, but the dog has no business on earth He is an interloper. He feels this, and he slinks and slouches, and if perchance he happens to utter a bark as a stranger rides up he is at once seized with the most dreadful remorse, and he goes for the swamps to do pennance and convince himself that it was 1.. :,1 An 1 7W , / purely auuiutruuu.?jscit viv ? /co a. # coo. BowingtotiieInevitable.?The Christian Commonwealth has a timely article on "Making the best of the Inevitable." What the inevitable is may be defined as evil that can not be avoided?the marred fortunes that can never be mended, the impaired constitution that can never be made strong again, the lost life of our beloved that can never be restored. Under such experiences there can be no way of endurance equal to that of being assured that God is love and of being fully persuaded that no natural evil lies outside of His will. The duty of submission to the divine will is imperative, but we can only recognize it when we are made to see and feel that our own preferences are in conflict with God's plans. When this is once made clear, there is no alternative left us but to bow to the inevitable and to seek comfort in the confidence that all that occurs is wisely and" lovingly ordered by our Heavenly Father. "In trying to learn this lesson of submission to a will very different from our own, we may find the most powerful and acceptable aid in the example of Him who in Gethsemane showed that he had learned the prayer which his own lips had taught to others: 'Thy will be done.' 'Father, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.' If by this confessedly difficult path we can only get near enough to cast our burden on the" bosom of infinite love, we shall win from the inevitable a present victory and an ultimate joy not to be wrung from chance or fate.?Baptist Weekly. . Turning to the Right.?The origin of this custom is given as follows: Our ancestors droveoxen as a usual thing. In driving an ox team the driver walks on the left of the team, so that he can handle the goad or whip with his right hand. In meeting a wagon, each driver would turn to the right, so that he could be between hisownoxen and those of the other wagon. | JjUistcllancous |lcatliu?. MYTHICAL BEASTS. The old authors, poets and orators, even the divine bard Shakspeare, peopled the earth, sea and air with all sorts of monsters and bugaboos. There were then many worlds for science to conquer and when the Marco Polos, Captain Magellans and Lord Monboddos, and people who had been far countries for to see, came back with yarns of incredibly fierce and ferocious monsters, why, the stay-at homes had nothing to do but believe. There are no more Abyssinias fnr incrpninns Dr. Johnsons to imnrovisehaD py valleys out of, and to people with Rasselasses and other happy mortals. India and the Perus are explored, the Amazon is no longer a mystery, we know where the Nile rises, and nearly all the earth has yielded up its mysteriesto science and man, excepting, of course, Symmes' Hole, and the impenetrable North Pole. The ignorance of our early writers upon subjects of natural history seems at this day astonishing, yet cannot fail to be amusing. The sea especially was peopled with queer monsters. There was the kraken, which Pontoppeden, in his Natural History of Norway, describes at length. It was not a serpent; in fact, had not an elongated body, but was round, like an island. The Norwegian fishermen had frequently seen it, and many were the tales they told of its presence in warm seas. They knew of its presence by the shadowing of the water from one hundred fathoms to twenty. His back was a mile and a half long and his arms as big as the masts of ships. The dragon was another monster that our forefathers placed implicit faith in the existence of. Sir Bevis of, Hampton, St. Michael, St. George and other knights and saints all killed dragons. In the age of Queen Elizabeth the monster was fifty feet long from shoulder to tail, with glittering scales bright as silver, but tougher than brass, except just under the wing, where, according to Percy's Reliques, St. George sent his good sword, Ascalon clear up to the hilt. Livy speaks of one that stopped progress of the whole Roman army, and I)iodorus tells of one captured in Africa that was sixty feet long. The hydra was another terrible serpent that Hercules killed, which had seven, nine or fifty heads, according to the pleasure of the poet; and when one was cut off another sprouted, like the star-fish's legs, though Hudibras disputes this point. The hydra is supposed to have been a brother of the chimera. There are two animals mentioned by Shakspeare. The first is often represented in heraldic designs. It is a flying serpent, the forepart as a dragon with wings, and the latter part as a snake, but differing from the dragon in only having two legs. The cockatrice, or basilisk, was a sort of missing link between birds and reptiles. The Scotch claimed that he came from an egg, laid by a cock after he was seven years old. Pliny describes it under the name of basilisk, and claims that its very odor is death to man and animals. Sepents fly from it, and the mortal whom it looked upon died. First came the great roc, whom one reads of in the adventures of "Sinbad the Sailor." Marco Polo heard of him in Madagascar, and declares that it was like the eagle, measuring sixteen paces from wirig to wing. But the Persian authorities give the wildest account. They represent him as carrying an elephant in his heak and one in each of its claws. The Christian Fathers believed in the existence of the phoenix as typical of the resurrection, and the Roman Senator Maulius told the Romans he had lived 509 years, and builta nest of cinnamon and incense and then died. Out of his bones came a worm which performed funeral rites for its parent by placing the nest on an altar of f Ko aT f K a Gun i n VA?tmf mc vity/ \ji tuc uuii ah j^/t* Take off Your Hat.?The Hon. Phil. Hoyne of Chicago, is responsible for the following: "I was going along the other evening, when a savage clog flew out at me, evidently ready to rend me in pieces. Now what dy'e suppose I did?" "Whipped out your pistol, I presume." "Not a bit of it. 1 simply lifted my hat. Don't laugh. The dog stopped, looked at me, growled, and finally crouched back to the door-step and began wagging his tail. I have done the same thing over and over again with the same result." "How do you account for the result ?" "This is how I figure it out," said Mr. Hoyne. "Dogs, in my opinion, think?in a crude way. They see a man, such as I, walking, say with a plug hat on his head, and so forth. To him I present a complete picture just as a dog with flapping ears, swishing tail and four legs, presents one equally complete. Now, mark! The four footed picture can not, so to speak, disintegrate. No dog ever saw another dog take off its tail or lay down its ? ? ? rt ?* " ?? y\f* 14-a h!n/-1 1 ears, ur unuw mva^ uhc ui no muu itgo. This human apparition suddenly begins to take himself to pieces. He lifts off his hat. The dog doesn't know what is coming next, perhaps. He begins to think. He is overawed. He meets with a power, which is beyond his comprehension, and he succumbs. Mind you, this is only my theory, but I have tried it on several times, and I always found it to succeed." Revolutionary Montmexts.?A recent visitor to the battle-fields of King's Mountain and the Cowpens, in South Carolina, reports that the monuments placed there many years ago, are ruined by relic-hunters. The facing of the Cowpens monument, "Erected by the Washington Light Infantry of Charleston in 1856," is nearly all gone; the ground has grown up to forest and soon there will be nothing to mark the spot where one of the most important events of our Revolutionary history took place. A monument in honor of Morgan's victory has been erected by Congress and the State of South Carolina, assisted by other States, at Spartanburg, sixteen miles distant, but this ? ^ iiruntta 4l a knffla L'lUl IJUL 1UUII11 iy lilt; jJlclUC V> llCiC Lilt; uaiuu occurred. On the King's Mountain battlefield there is a monument, placed there at the time of the centennial celebration in October, 1880, which is untouched by the spoilers as yet, and is likely to be, as it is of rough granite at the base and of such size as to repel the inclination to chip off keepsake pieces, but the Ferguson-Chronicle monument, erected where Ferguson, the British commander, and Chronicle, Boyd and other Americans killed in the battle were buried, is so tar destroyed as to be worthless as a monument. The inscriptions on neither side can be read, and the face of one side is nearly all of it hacked otf and carried away. Surely here is a little patriotic work for the South Carolina Historical Society or the Washington Light Infantry, or both, to do in preserving for all times these two interesting spots of our Revolutionary history. No doubt Congress would lend a helping hand, as it has in so many similar instances.?Baltimore Day. Toads After a Rain.?Why are all the toads so plentiful after a thunder ,shower ? All my life long no one has been able to answer me that question. Why, after a heavy shower, and in the midst of it, do such multitudes of toads especially little ones, hop about on the gravel walks ? For many years I believed they rained down and I suppose some think so still, "Thick as toads after a shower" is one of our best proverbs. I asked an explanation of this of a thoughtful woman?indeed a leader in the great movement?to have all the toads hop in any direction without distinction of sex or religion. Her reply was that toads came out during the shower to get water. This, however, is not the fact. I have discovered that they come out not to get water. I deluged a dry flower-bed the otner night with pailful often pailful of water. Immediately the toads came out of their holes to escape death by drowning, by tens and twenties and fifties. The big ones fled away in a ridiculous streak of hopping and the little one sprang about in the wildest confusion. The toad is just like any other land animal: When his home is full of water he quits it.?Charles Dudley Warner.