Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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4?/ lewis as. grist, proprietor, J % Inbqpknt Jamil# ff efospapcr: Jfor t|c promotion of % |joMcaI, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of \\t Sontj). |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL: 30. YOEKVILLE, S C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 14,, 1884=. NO. 33. Ifte Irlfer. THE TURN OF AN ACCIDENT. It was six o'clock of a crisp October morning, and John Boyd, a farmer, rousing from his sound night's sleep, sprang out of bed with the alert readiness of a man who knows the value of the first h^irs of day. It was a tavern bed from whicfrhe jumped; home and its cares were miles away; but a long ride lay before him, and he washed and dressed briskly, as one in haste, humming a cheerful air, meanwhile, as became a man who felt himself in good spiritsand had ample reason for being so. For, be it known, this year had proved the best to farmers since John had been his own master. Harvests had been large, prices high, and John, on his way back from the annual market, carried a sense of freedom and liberation at his heart from the final extinguishment of a mortgage on his farm?a mortgage which had pressed as heavily on his conscience as did the burden of a Christian on his shoulders. The burden was lifted now, and, further than that, John carried in his fat, red wallet, $200 over and above, toward the expenses of the next year. He had never been so "beforehand" before, and the sensation was a joyful one. "My neck is out of the collar now," he muttered to himself as he brushed his thick, brown hair. "I should be a fool indeed if I put it in again. No mortgages for me !'" Then, his toilet completed, he ran down stairs, two steps at a time. Farmer-like, his first visit was to his horses. They were munching their corn very satisfactorily, and after a look or two and a pat, John returned to the inn, where a jingling bell announced a breakfast. It was smoking on the table?a subsubstantial meal of tne kind universal in taverns thirty years ago, and John Boyd, whose appetite was of the kind proverbially said to accompany a good conscience, was doing it ample justice, when a sudden instinct led him to thrust his hand into the inner pocket, which held two hundred dollars. The wallet was gone.In the suddenness of the shock John felt himself turn pale and then flush painfully as he confusedly tried to remember if he had taken out the wallet and when. Under his pillow?there it was! He recollected distinctly, or so it seemed, putting it there for security's sake when he went to bed the night before. With a muttered excuse he left the table and hurried up-stairs. The door of his room stood open, and the maid servant was putting fresn sheets on his bed, and the soiled linen was lying in a heap on the floor. Toward the heap John hurried and began turning it over. "Have you lost something, sir?" asked tKn roo J H VUV UlMtUl John straightened himself to answer. He had not noticed the maid before, though she had waited upon the table at supper. Now he observed tnat she was young and rather pretty?fair, with a trim, slender figure, beautiful glossy hair, neatly dressed and braided, and a pair of sweet, apprehensive blue eyes. Her voice was soft too, and she had a shy modest manner, which suggested an idea of refinement. All these things Farmer Boyd observed in a flash, and instinctively noting, weighing, estimating by that wonderfully rapid progress of which the human mind is capable, while yet his thoughts . were full of his money and his loss. "Yes, I am looking for my wallet, which I left under my pillow. Did you find it ?" The girl's face Dlanched to a deadly whiteness and her eyes dilated as with sudden terror. "No, sir," she said, her voice trembling and sinking away as she spoke. "I didn't see any wallet." John looked at her distrustfully ; but there was something in the pale face that disarmed suspicion. "I'd like to search the bed," he said. "It may have slipped under the mattress." Together they turned the mattress, but no wallet was visible. "That off horse of yours has got his shoe loose, somehow," announced Mr. Nash, the landlord, suddenly appearing at the door. "I thought I'd better tell you, so that you can stop at the blacksmith's as you pass and get him to put in a couple of nails. Why, what's the matter ?" Trtk?* Avr\ln " ouiiu CA]/iaitivu. The landlord looked very grave. He whistled softly to himself a minute, with his eyes fixed on the tumbled bedding; then he went to the head of the stairs and called his wife. Presently they came in together, and the landlady's face looked very red and troubled. "Such a thing never happened in my house before," she protested. "But there's only one person that has been in your room since you came, beside yourself, and she's the person you must reckon with," pointing to the maid, who, with white cheeks and downcast eyes, leaned against the.wall as if awaiting sentence. "Oh, indeed, indeed, I didn't take it! I never saw any wallet," she said ; but her voice was drowned in Mrs. Nash's louder tones. "And pray who else took it, do you sup- i pose? Who else had the chance? Answer me that! It serves me just right for taking | in a girl with no recommend?a girl I don't know nothing about, not so much as her name, or where she came from, or where her folks are. Five weeks ago to-morrow, that's all the time she's been in the house, sir, but this is the end of it. It's the last time I'll ever have a help I don't know the long and short of, so you needn't be afraid j to stop with us again, no, none of your; friends, either; as for her, out she packs this very day!" "I'd better go for the constable, hadn't I, if you're sure it was under the pillow you put it ?" said the landlord. "Oh, don't, please don't!" pleaded the. girl, weeping bitterly. "Give the gentleman his wallet back, ' then, and perhaps he'll let you go." "I can't. I haven't got it! Oh, please! believe me! Don't send me to jail!" she urged. The landlady only answered by an expression of disgust. And, throwing her apron over her head, the poor girl wept in silence, saying no more. John had held his peace during the alter-> cation, sharply eying the persons concerned j in it meanwhile. The Nashes he knewsomething about. They were of good reputation ' as far as he was aware. The maid was a: stranger to them, as to him ; but, in spite of! circumstances, and her manner, which was j hardly less suspicious, he could not bring | himself to believe her guilty. He was not [ a hasty man, and he was a just one, with a kind heart to nacKnis Temperate j uugments; and after a few minutes' reflection he made J- up his mind what to do. "I can't swear that I put the wallet under! the pillow, or any where else," he said. "I'm pretty, sure that I did, but my thoughts j about it are confused somehow, and it < may be that I left it at Bolton, where 1 j slept on Tuesday night. I don't wan't no injustice done on my account. Don't cry like that"?addressing himself to the girl? I "I'll tell you what I'll do. Will you get! the bay mare shod during the day??and! if you'll lend me a saddle I'll ride back to Bolton and make inquiry there. If I find the money, well and good; if I don't it will, be time enough to talk further about it tomorrow." "I'm sure it's good of you to take so much trouble," declared the landlady. "But whether or no, the girl don't stay here. I 'll | have no suspected thief in my house!" "There'll be nothing to suspect her of, if j I find the wallet," rejoined John, dryly. fj? "Don't give the poor thing a bad name till ni know that she deserves it." Then he the room unmindful of the look of gratitude which shone upon him from the blue eyes of the girl', who had dropped herapron, ? and she gazed after him till he was out of sight. His reflections were not agreeable, as he retraced his footsteps over the dusty highway, traveled but yesterday with so light a heart. The loss of his money meant a good deal to John Boyd. The pressure of anxiety seemed to settle again upon his shoulders, as he thought over the probabilities of its nonrecovery. "But I won't give in without a tight for it," he thought, grimly, as he urged his horse forward. Miles seemed doubly long when measured by a heavy heart, what with dust, heat and the continual effect to clear his mental confusion as to when and where he had last seen the wallet, the young farmer was fagged and dispirited enough, before noon was fairly come. He stopped to dine at a little tavern attached to a toll-gate, and with some vague hope that the money might have been picked up on the road by some one, mentioned his loss. The toll-keeper shook his head. "Bolton's your only chance," he said. "If it was on the road you dropped it there's no likelihood that you will ever hear of it again. The dust is eight inches deep, \ should say, and there's been three big droves of sheep and one of bullocks along since yesterday, so if your wallet was lying there they have trampled it under pretty thoroughly. It is ouriea aeep enougn, you mny ut; sure, unless, which is just as likely to happen, sdme one has picked it up and made off with it. Your chance is a slim one, I reckon." Cold comfort this; but John was forced to agree with his opinion. Despondingly he rode through the afternoon, scanning the way as he went, for despite the toll-keeper, a faint hope still lingered in his heart, thoygh the track, deep in dust and churned and trampled by the crowded droves, presented a sorry field for either hope or discovery. He had gained the top of a long hill, from which Bolton was dimly visible, when a moving object far ahead caught his eye and he rose in his stirrups in order to see more clearly. As he did so his horse made a false step, stumbled and threw him forward in the saddle so that his head grazed the horse's neck. It was in this position that a tiny object, a patch of red, caught his eye. His heart gave a little leap, then he called himself a fool, but all the same he dismounted to examine. Already a random hoof-stroke had buried the red patch from sight, but John recollected the spot, and stooping, dug and scooped till it again became visible. His fingers recognized a solid substance. Trembling with excitement, he continued to dig; another second and the object was uncovered, lifted out, and with a wild, incredulous whoop of joy, John Boyd held in his hand his wallet, buried deep by the hurrying herds, and uncovered for one passing moment that his eyes might rest upon it, and no other. Except for that lucky stumble, he would have ridden over the lost treasure, and never dreamed what lay beneath his horse's feet. "And some folks say there ain't no God!" was his mental comment, spoken half-aloud. Then?for John Boyd's religion, though a homely, was a true one?he bent his head, and said a few words of thanksgiving; after * * ? i i 1 x 1_ xt wnicn, jumping on nis norse, no iook me backward route, eager to tell his good fortune, and exonerate the poor girl, who, as he now remembered with self reproach, must have passed a painful day under the stigma of undeserved suspicion. The heat was yielding to evening breezes, and he urged his horse, impatient to set matters straight, but with his' oest endeavor it was 11 o'clock before he at-last drew rein in front of Nash's hotel. He was expected; that was evident, for lights were burning ftnd Nash and his wife hurried out to meet him, wearing faces of lugubrious length, which only in part changed to cheerfulness when they heard of the recovery of the wallet. "There, what did I tell you?" cried the husband. "Haven't I been asayingall day that likely as not this scare wouldn't turn out all for nothing? And you would not listen to a word, but just kept on to that Eoor thing inside there, and she nothing to lame all the time. I declare it's too bad the way women act to each other?and folks calling them the 'softer sex !' A man would be ashamed to act so. Well, do tell! And so the money was lying there all the time in the dust! Well, I'm mighty glad, for your sake and ours too. Go right in, sir, and wife will give you some supper. I'll see to the horse." Mrs. Nash waited on the meal in grim silence. She seemed only half rejoiced at the denouement. "It's mighty queer," she remarked as she sat the last dish on the table. "I don't feel as 11 we nau got to Dottom 01 it yet. \> ny didn't Lucy deny more positive?" "But she did," said John, between two mouthfuls; she said she hadn't got it." "Why, of course, she said as much as that. You didn't expect her to say that she'd got it, did you?" rejoined the landlady with fine scorn. "But she didn't speak up violent and bold, as you'd expect an innocent girl would." "But she was innocent all the time, you know." "I ain't so over sure about that," replied Mrs. Nash, with a shake of her head. "It's a queer business." "Now, look here," shouted John, roused by this peristent injustice, "what is there queer about it, I should like to know? Here's my wallet"?slapping his pocket book?"and I told you where I found it. And you know as well as I do that I never put it under the pillow, and that girl of yours had no more to do with it than a babe unborn. It's her pardon that I ought to beg, and you, too. So I hope, madam, you'll drop the subject and just make it up to the poor thing by being extra kind, as it were, for the bad day we made her spend." Mrs. Najjh seemed by no means molified by this not over judicious appeal, and as soon as her duties as hostess would permit, left the room muttering under her breath something that John did not catch. He was too sleepy to care particularly about the matter, and presently went to bed, when dreamless slumber drew her veil over the day's vicissitudes. Hurrying out to the barn next morning in the best of spirits, a low, sobbing sigh called his attention to a bench outside the kitchen door, where sat a figure crumpled up in a forlorn little heap, in which he recognized the pretty maid of the day before. She wore her bonnet and a bundle lay beside her. Her face was hidden on her uroro nn hnr>lr of the bench. "Why, what's the matter?" said John, turning back. The girl looked up with a start. "I beg your pardon," she faltered ; "I'm just going. I didn't mean to stay so long." "Going! where?" "I don't know where," she said dejectedly. I'd try for another place, only there doesn't seem much chance of getting one without a recommend." "Do you mean to say that they are sending you away from here?" "Yes." "But in the name of goodness, why?" "I don't know. Mrs. Nash says she don't like to have servants about who are suspected of stealing." The blue eyes filled again as she spoke, and she hid her face. "By George! I never heard of such injustice in my life," shouted John, "Now Lucy, if that's your name, you just sit still where you are. Don't yotfstir or move till I come back. I'll see Mrs. Nash. I'll put things right." To put things right seemed easily enough to a strong, hearty man with justice and argument on his side, but that is because he does not calculate properly on those queer hitches and crochets of human nature, especially woman nature, which have no relation to justice and fair dealing, and are unaffected by argument. Mrs. Nash proved impervious to John's choicest appeals. Her mind was made up; she "didn't want ' to hear no more on the subject;" finally her temperrising, "whatbusine&s wasit of his," she demanded, "what help she kept, or | if she kept any at all ? He'd got his pocket I book back; accounts were square between ! them; there was no further call, so far as she j could see, why he should meddle in her concerns. The upshot of the interview was that John flew out of the kitchen with his face as red as fire, tackled his horse, threw valise and feed bags into the wagon, flung the amount of his reckoning on the table, and addressed Lucy, who pale and terrified, stood bundle in hand, prepared for flight, calling out: "Now, then, my good girl, you've lost one place by my fault, and I'm darned if I don't offer you another. Will you jump into my wagon and go home with me ? My old mother has been talking this long piece back of getting a smart girl to help her along when she's laid up with rheumatics; so you're just the one we want. She'll treat you fairly enough, I'll be bound, and you shall have whatever you were getting here. And if you behave yourself, you'll be well used, not turned out of doors for nothing; I'll engftge to that; it isn't the way up in our parts," with, a vindictive look at the latKuady, who stood rigidly planted in the door-way. "We don't set up to be extra Christians, but there's a little honesty and decency left among us, which is more than can be said for all places. Well, what do you say ? Yes or no. There's my hand on it, if it's yes." Wo hold nnt. his hrrwul nnlm. LiiP.v hesi tated, but for a moment only. "Yes, I will," she said. "I've nowhere else to go, and you seem kind." Another moment and they were driving off together down the maple-shaded road, whose yellow and crimson boughs danced overhead against October's bright blue weather. There was peace and calm in the fresh stillness of the early day. Gradually a little color stole into Lucy's pale cheeks, and John's hot mood gave place to his wonted good humor and cheer. "You've had no breakfast, I'll bet," he said with a smile. "And no more have I. I was so mad with that woman that I couldn't swallow a mouthful, but now I begin to feel sharp enough. We'll stop at the next tavern, Southwick, isn'tit? Fivemiles and a half. Can you hold out till then ?" "Oh, yes, indeed," with a grateful look out of the blue eyes. John's tone grew more and more friendly. "We'll have something hot and hearty there," he said. "You look pale. I guess you didn't sleep any too much last night." "Oh,Icouldn'tsleepatalI. Mrs. Nash told me that I must go the first thing in the morning, and I felt so badly." "I shouldn't think you would want to stay with a woman like her." "But it's so dreadful to have nowhere to go to and, besides ?" She stopped abruptly, with a look like terror in her eyes. "Have you nofriends, then ?" asked John. "No." The tone was very reserved; but reserve could hardly fail to melt under so sunshiny a presence as John Boyd's, and before the long day's ride was done he had won from her the main facts of her story. T 1V1' 1 TT i.1 juucy juiii was ner name, ner moiner had married for the second time when Lucy was 12 years old, and three years ago, when the girl was barely 15, had died, leaving her to the protection of her stepfather. "She didn't know what kind of a man he was," said Lucy. "And he wasn't that kind of a man when she was alive. I was too young to notice much, and mother always put herself between him and me when things went wrong. After she died it was dreadful. Elkins?that was his son?came i home to live. He never lived there before, and?he?" "Wanted to marry you ?" "Yes ; and his father said I must. But I was afraid of him?ofthem both. And people began to come to the house?bad people, no good?and I began to suspect things." "What kind of things ?" It was not easy to get an answer to this question. In fact, the terrified and inexperienced girl had hardly dared to formulate her own fears; but John gathered the idea that coining or some other unlawful practices were going on, and Lucy only half comprehending, had understood enough to startle and frighten her into making her escape. She had effected this by night, six weeks before, and her great dread was of being discovered and forced to go back. John reassured her as well as he could. "You'll be just as safe at the farm as in an iron safe," he protested. But, in spite of his assurance, the lurking terror never left Lucy's eyes though weeks sped safely by and nothing occurred to alarm her. Every sudden noise made her start; the sight of a strange figure on the road blanched the roses to paleness. Except for this fearfulness, she proved an excellent "help" in all ways?quick, neat-fingered, sweet-tempered. Old Barbara wondered how the farm had ever got along without her, and John in his secret heart wondered also. It never should be without her j again, on that he was firmly resolved. I "Lucy," he said one day, three months after she became his inmate, "I'm tired of seeing you jump and quiver, and scuttle upi stairs whenever the peddler or the ragman ! comes along. It's bad for you, and it wor nt'S mt; miiiuftt m uouui. ?>u\v, mcic njuat ; one way that'll make all safe, and set your i mind at ease, and that is that you should | just marry me out of hand, and give me the j right to protect you. Once my wife, I ! shouldn't care if your stepfather and all the I gang came after you ; let them lay a finger I on you at their peril, while I'm alive and I have a right to interfere. "Will you, Lucy? ; It's the best thing to be done, trust my word ; for it. I don't mean to pretend that I am : doing it for your sake ent irely," added John I with a broad smile, "for I ain't. I want (you for my own sake the worst way, but ! both ways will be a gain ; so, unless you j have something against me, say "yes," ! Lucy, and we'll have the parson over toj morrow, and make all safe. Will you, Lucy?" "Oh, how could I have anything against you?" replied Lucy with the sweetest blush. "Well," declared John, a moment after, ; as he raised his head from his first long i lover's kiss, "now I forgive Mrs. Nash !" Kilkenny Cats.?The story has been so long current that it has become a proverb? "as quarrelsome as .the Kilkenny cats"? two of the cats in which city are asserted to have fought so long and so furiously that naught was found of them but two tails. The correct version of this saying is this : ! During the rebellion which occurred in Ire| land in 1798, Kilkenny was garrisoned by a i reiriinent of Hessian soldiers, whose custom ; it was to tie together, in one of the barrackrooms, two cats by their respective tails, I and then throw them face to face across a line generally used for drying clothes. The cats naturally became infuriated andscratch, ed each other in the abdomen until death j ensued to one or both of them. The officers ; were made acquainted with the barbarous acts of cruelty, and resolved to put an end to 1 them. For this purpose an officer was ori dered to inspect each barrack room daily ' and report its state. The soldiers determined pot to lose the daily torture of the i eats, generally employed one of their comrades to watch the approach of their officer, j On one occasion he neglected his duty, and the officer was heard ascending the stairs while the cats were undergoing their customary torture. One of the troopers seized a sword from the arm-rack, and with a single blow divided the tails of the cats, The cats escaped through the open windows of the room, which was entered instantly aftcr: ward by the officer, who inquired what was the cause of the two bleeding cats' tails being suspended 011 the line, and was told in reply that "two rats had been lighting in the room ; that it was found impossible to separate them, and they fought so desperately j that they had devoured each other up, with the exception of their two tails."?Irish ' Nation. (forngn (?0HfS|j0ttdeufe. ALONE IN A GREAT CITY. LIGHTS AND SHADES OF LONDON LIFE. The most Important City in the World?Reflections on the Social and Political Condition of the English?The White Slavery in England of To-Day Compared with the whilom Black Slavery of the South?The Q-reat Preacher, 8purgeon?A Visit to the Tabernacle, and a Description of the Service as Conducted by the Eminent Baptist Divine?A Personal Interview with Spurgeon. Correspondence of the Yorkville Enquirer. London, July 21.?If my memory serves me correctly, I mailed a letter to the Enquirer on the 17th instant. At that time I thought that I would write 110 more until I reached home. To-night, however, I am alone, and for the purpose of amusing myself I will dot down a few rambling thoughts. I promise in the putsct, like long-winded political speakers and some preachers that some of your readers have heard of, if not seen, to be brief?very brief. I will make another promise. I will undertake to write of nothing in particular and several things in general. ? T 00,. +1,/, fl.nf T jlu uc&iii) ? iiiitjr onj mat tuu itvti titan x am, and have been for a week in the metropolis of the world, causes strange thoughts to pass through my inind. How could it be otherwise ? Rome was proud and imperial, the mistress of the world in her day; but what was proud and imperial Rome compared with England? In many respects England is the greatest and grandest kingdom on which the sun ever shone. As a nation, England has grown rich by utilizing her,resources and converting her chalk hills into fertile fields. Not only so, but England is great on account of the moral and intellectual attainments of her people. Greece alone, of all the nations of antiquity, produced a Homer, and no nation but England has given birth to a Milton. In all the departments of civilization, England has exercised a controlling influence. London is England. It is the largest and richest city on the globe. It embraces a territory of one hundred and thirty square miles, or seventy-eight thousand acres. This vast territory is inhabited by 4,500,000 of people. Its police force numbers over 10,700 men. It contains more Jews than Palestine, and more Roman Catholics than Rome. It requires 50,000,000 gallons of water to supply the city for one day, and 15,000,000 cubic feet of gas is required to light up the city during every twenty-four hours. 5,500,000 tons of coal are consumed by the city of London annually. The annual rental" is estimated at $100,000,000. Pcif is still growing rapidly. On an average, twentyeight miles of new streets are made each year, and 9,000 new houses erected. Every day sees about 160,000 strangers enter the city and one hundred and twenty-three persons are daily added to its population. Its foreign population alone is one hundred and twenty thousand. These facts bewilder a man, who, like myself, has spent all his days in a thinly populated country. As might be expected, there are multitudes of things in London which are intensely interesting. It will be remembered that London is an old city. It was a place oi some importance wnen .j unus utesar, nitytvvo years before the Christian era, invaded the island. I will not, however, attempt to describe these.' ^ It may be mentioned in passing that Westminster Abbey is a place which is full of interest, amounting to the wonderful. In it are deposited the bodies of many of the kings and queens of England. Here, too, rest the ashes of England's nobles, statesmen and poets. In the Jerusalem Chamber the translation of the Bible now in general use was made, and here the New Version, as it is called, was finished on Thursday of last week. It was in this Jerusalem Chamber that the Westminster Confession of Faith was written. It was here that the learned Seldon was met in debate and vanquished by the stripling Gillespie. But to write up the history of Westminster Abbey, would be to write the history of England itself. London is like no other city that I ever saw. Everything is of such magnitude that the mind becomes tired and bewildered and refuses to act. No description can be given of London as a whole. It would require more time to see it all than is allotted to any human being; and strange to say there is so much that is strange and marvelous, that the marvelous faculty of the mind becomes weary and longs for something of moderate magnitude. It is said, with at least a good appearance of truth, that there is no night in New York. The sun sets and darkness spreads its mantle over the city, but the people keep moving continually from dark to dawn. The same is true of London. During all hours of the night, the rumbling of wheels and tramping of walking men and women may be heard. The wear and tear on the nerves in the case of those who have to endure the noise for a long period, must be very great. London cannot be said to be a beautiful city. The streets twist and turn in all directions, and there are no two in the vast city which can be said to be exactly parallel to each other, and scarcely any two cross each other at right angles. Such being the : case, it is not a very difficult thing for an individual to lose his reckoning in London. In fact, an individual feels lost all the time. In addition to their irregularity in their course, the streets are, with a few exceptions, very narrow. In the city of London there are no such things as blocks. There are quite a number of squares which are full of, not houses, but trees and flowers. These green squares are a great relief to the eyes. As might be expected. there are a countless number of pal atial residences in London. Here many of the rich men of the kingdom reside. The parks are many in number and beautiful in appearance. Hyde Park is the great rendezvousof the nobility. Here, in the evening, the gentry turn out in force, and the 1 edges of the walks are lined with persons having little articles, such as bunches of flowers and boxes of matches, to sell. For hours the "drives" are crowded with vehicles of various kinds, drawn by richly caparisoned horses. A few of these car- i riages are drawn by one, and a few by four; but the majority are drawn by two horses. j The carriages are constructed as those of the Southern States formerly were, with the 1 driver on the outside. Two servants?both < white men?accompany these carriages. : The one drives and the other seated by his cLIa ia IVin fliA r\f i?n?w1nrinri? nn\r cnr. 1 OAUtJ, 10 IX.IL 1/11U V'i AVHUUl I'lffk OV/A.vice that the person or persons inside of the ; carriage may require. Frequently there is a servant behind on horseback. All these < servants are richly dressed?far more so < than their masters. Many of the drivers 1 and other servants wear powdered wigs, i They are mere lordling's slaves. I could not i but think of the inquiry af the poet Burns: i "If I am born to be a lordling's slave, why was an independent wish e'er planted in my . mind?" < Ilere I cannot forbear the remark, that 1 the English, Scotch and Irish have, appa- < rently, a soul-horror for slavery, and heap i all sorts of anathemas upon us Southern 1 people because our hands are stained with . slavery, while there has existed forcentu- 1 ries, and exists to-day, in the United King- J dom, a system of slavery, in some of its ] leading features, more humiliating than * ever existed in any State south of Mason ( and Dixon's line. Nominally, a servant in i Great Britain is not goods and chattels; in ( fact he is. To be born the son or daughter of t a servant in Great Britain, entails upon the 1 individual the necessity of living and dy- s ing a servant. The only way to escape this y dreadful necessity is to emigrate?to bid I farewell to the land that gave the individu- i al birth. A Southern negro is eligible to s any office in the United States. All that is i required to place him in the 1'resident'ssoat > is the vote of the people. In Great Britain, multitudes of white men have no vote and only a few are eligible to hold office. With all of its defects, I must say the United States is the home of the free. It is the best poor man's country in the world, and if our people are only wise and prudent, the United States will, in time, and that a short time, revolutionize all the governments on the globe. It is destined to be the pattern for all future governments. X. One digression suggests another. The first colored man I have seen since I left Bally menu, Ireland, and the third that I have seen since I left New York, I saw yesterday. He was a young man of, I would say, about twenty-five, of medium size and decently dressed. He was standing on the corner of the street when I first met him. Again I met him in a dinner house. When first seen, he presented the woe-begone appearance of a game cock when the feathers have all fallen out of his tail, and the hens are all 011 their nests hatching their eggs! The second time I saw him he had before him a plate amply supplied with beef and cabbage, which he was throwing into his mouth with a rapidity which indicated that it was the first meal of the day, and, in all probability would be the last for the next twenty-four hours. He was alone'. No one was near him. I saw an evidence of the absence of that social equality which some ill? 1 4... j^uiut'u iiuuiiiiitim'laiia um.iiui nu nuitu <iuwuc. They are anxious for others to do what they will not do themselves. Like the Pharisees of old, they place heavy burdens upon other men's shoulders, but these burdens they will not touch even with their fingers. If I were a poet, I would write a poem on consistency, the first line of which would be, "Consistency, thou art a jewelbut rarer and more precious than diamonds. Since I am neither painter nor poet, I must content myself to let some people wear the, by them, much prized jewel, inconsistency. In London may be seen every type of the human family. This will be readily admitted, since of its four and one-half millions of inhabitants, one hundred and twenty thousand are foreigners. In London there is a sufficient number of foreigners to make more than two such cities as Charleston, South Carolina. These foreigners are the representatives of every nation on earth. On High Holborn street, the flag of the United States proudly waves in the breeze. In London may be seen all the shades of civilization, and multitudes of the human family may be seen who are sunk below any grade of civilization. London is the world, not in miniature, but the world represented on a grand scale. In London is seen the Englishman in all his glory, and in all his degradation. No matter what may have been the producing cause, the English people are very unlike, in their manners and customs, to the Scotch or Irish. Physically, they are less robust, with perhaps more nerve. Intellectually, they are more refined, but without the mental strength of the Scotch, or the impetuous vigor of the Scotch-Irish. The English people are characterized by a manly dignity and a gentlemanly courtesy. The oetter class never speatc narsmy?never insult, causelessly, any one; and never expect to be insulted. They prize their honor as a thing of more value than any amount of money, and their word is as good as their bond. They will not attempt to palm off on a stranger plated jewelry for solid gold. In all their dealings, they are manly. As a matter of course, all the English are not strictly honest. Men are the same in every land, but by a long system of training the English people?that is, the better class of them?have acquired the habit of dealing honestly. This is creditable?highly creditable?but the Englishman, even in his best estate, is like all other men, a defective creature, and some of his defects or faults, if this is preferred, are very great. The foolish notion that wealth is the principal thing in true greatness, nearly counteracts all that is good about him. The idea has been inwrought into an Englishman's soul that, to be great and honorable, and, consequently, to be honored, a man must be the descendant of a long line of nobles and the heir to a lordly estate, fThe doctrine of caste has been a part of the Englishman's creed for several centuries. It will be found to be the main pillar in the "Fundamental Constitutions,'' drawn up by the celebrated Locke, for the seven proprietors of the territory which is now embraced by the two Carolinas. To an American, caste titles are odious. But since I promised to write of nothing in particular, here I will drop this subject and take up something else. One of the noticeable things in London, and in fact in all the towns in the British Isles which I have seen, is the advertisements which are placed above the merchants' doors. In Ireland, in Scotland, and of course in England, a very large number of the merchants seem to be doing business ior tne yueen. rne auveruseineius reuu us follows: "John Jones, Butcher to the Queen;" "John Smith, Hatter to the Queen "Peter Smith, Haberdasher to the Queen." Advertisements similar to the above are seen in every town and city in the Kingdom in which I have been. The thing seems to be foolish, and some of them are extremely ludicrous. As an example, a traveling companion informs me that there is an advertisement in London which reads as follows, except the name, which I have forgotten. "John Smith, Bugger to the Queen." John Smith had discovered a bed-bug exterminator, and publishes himself to the world as Bugger to the Queen. To render the thing more ludicrous, another John Smith, who did business on the opposite side of the street, announces himself as "Bugger to the Queen" also, but as having no connection with John Smith, on the opposite side of the street. Another feature of London is its trams, omnibusses and other vehicles of public conveyance. All these vehicles are numbered from one up. How many there are I do not know. All that I can say is that I saw one which bore the number 13,173. I hardly think I have seen the hundreth part of them. If this be true there are more than a million horses in London. Besides these vehicles there is an underground railroad which winds its way in a circle through the city. New York has its elevated railroad; but London has an underground railway. This underground railway of London I may describe in one short sentence. It is dark and gloomy. Only at the stations, WHICH lire UlSlilllL lllMll Vill.ll UHIVI ii> siderable distance, is the light of day seen. The carriages are lighted with dim lamps, and since tne smoke of the engines, which burn coal, is all confined in the tunnel, the carriages are covered both within and without, with soot. It affords a cheap and rapid mode of travel, but by no means a comfortable one, and deprives a stranger of the pleasure of seeing anything as he passes from one point to another. Among the prominent places of interest, especially to a stranger, in the city of Lon-1 Jon, is the Tabernacle of which Rev. C. II. ^purgeon is the pastor, and I believe is the founder. To this place on yesterday morning I directed my course. From my boarding house, the distance is about three miles. j f crossed the Thames on Blackfriar's Bridge. L reached the Tabernacle at about throe quarters of an hour before the hour for public worship. A large number of persons were ilready in the house, but no one was permitted to take a seat until the members of :he church, or the pew holders were seated. iVbout half past ten, the pew holders began :o assemble and quietly take their seats. During this time, all persons not holding jews were required to remain in the yard tnd in the aisle. The seats of the Church, jr Tabernacle as it is called, are divided nto sections, and each section is under the ontrol of a guard. By speaking to one of he guards, a stranger, especially if he or she j je from America, will be secured a seat, so ioon as the guard discovers that some individual holding a pew in the section will not je present during the service. At five minites before eleven, the hour to begin worship, a small bell is rung. This is the announcement that all the pew holders who vill be present have taken their seats, and that any seat not occupied, is free to any one who may be so fortunate as to get it. So soon as the little bell is rung, there is a general rush by those anxious to see and hear the world-renowned preacher. 1 was exceedingly fortunate in getting a good seat on the first gallery, on a level with the pulpit and near by it. The Tabernacle is a plain building, in striking contrast with the other places of divine worship in the city. The body of the house is large and comfortable without even the semblance of the gaudy. It is capable of accommodating between three and four thousand worshipers. There are two galleries, which, together, are capable of seating comfortably as many worshipers as the body of the house. Yesterday there were present about seven thousand worshipers. The pulpit is a simple platform, surrounded with a plain railing. On the platform there is a small table, on which lies a Bible of the small pulpit size, a single chair, and that of the plainest kind, and a plain sofa. Just in the rear of the platform there are several seats, designed for the office-bearers of the Tabernacle. These last seats form a part of the platform. The whole furniture of the platform, not including the platform itself, could be bought for twentyfive or thirty dollars. Exactly at eleven o'clock, Mr. Spurgeon walked down an aisle in the second gallery, from a room in the rear of the platform. He was followed by some half a dozen of laymen, officers of the Tabernacle, whom, I understand, Mr. Spurgeon calls Elders. The Elders took their seats very orderly. Mr. Spurgeon walked forward to the railing of the platform, placed his hands upon it and after a moment's pause said, "Let us address God in prayer." He stood up dur lug uiu prayer ; lue uuiigreguuuu luuuucu forward on their seats. I do not know certainly, but I am inclined to believe that many of the readers of the Enquirer are anxious to learn any and everything they possibly can about Mr. Spurgeon. Such being my belief, I shall give, as best I possibly can, the impressions made on my own mind by the services of yesterday. In the outset, I must be permitted to say, that the JRev. Charles H. Spurgeon is the greatest of living preachers. Tliis is the estimate in which he is held by Christians of all denominations. For a period of more than a quarter of a century, he has been regarded as the great preacher of the world. Every stranger who visits London, regards it as a duty which he owes to himself, to hear Spurgeon preach. The question naturally suggests itself, "In what does Mr. Spurgeon's greatness consist?" The reply which I would give to this question is, that Mr. Spurgeon is justly regarded as the greatest preacher because he has learned to preach the gospel in its purity with great simplicity. Everything about the worship conducted in the Tabernacle is of the most simple character. There is no organ or melodeon in the church, nor is there a single stained glass window. There is no trumpery to get up excitement, yet the congregation is moved. The order of worship in the Tabernacle is first the invocation prayer, to which i roforence has nlreadv boeh made. Then a hymn is sung?the precentor standing on the platform by the side of Mr. Spurgeon? all the congregation standing in the pews during the singing. The tunes sung were, on yesterday, old familiar tunes; but the music was pronounced by competent judges to be grand. After the singingof the hymn, a portion of the Scripture is read, and commented upon. Yesterday the last chapter? the fifth?of the first Epistle general of John, was read. This done, another prayer was offered up, then another hymn was sung, and then followed the sermon. At the close of the sermon, the congregation was dismissed by simplypronouncing the Apostolic benediction, without either prayer or praise. Mr. Spurgeon's text on yesterday was the 13th verse of the 5th chapter of the first epistle general of John. Thesermou, I suppose, will be or is published, since there were two reporters on the floor, taking down the words as they fell from his lips. I will not attempt to give even a synopsis of the sermon, although that would be easily done. In fact, I am persuaded that, at this moment, I am, with a little effort, reproduce the whole sermon. All that I will say of the sermon is, that it was rigidly textural. The divisions were those suggested by the text itself. In its delivery there was not the least effort at oratorical display. Still, it was truly eloquent in all the parts, and sometimes thrillingly eloquent. Every person in the house was made to feel, sinners were aroused, and believers were com- , forted. i Mr. Spurgeon is a low, heavy set man. His height is, I suppose, about five feet eight inches, and he will weigh about one hundred and sixty pounds. There is nothing very striking in his appearance. In a strange place he would be regarded as a man of good sense, and of gentlemanly education, but no one would at first sight, hike i him to be the wonderful man that he is. : He dresses neatly, butvery plainly. Every i article of his clothing is in becoming taste, but there is nothing about it which marks i its wearer. i Mr. Spurgeon's voice is clear, melodious 1 and strong-, and his -articulation distinct. 1 This is one of the pillars of his strength. ' His language is chaste and dignified, withoutbcing richly classical. In the delivery of ' his sermons, Mr. Spurgeon shows mostclear- ' ly that he is intensely in earnest. In fact, 1 he said to me in private, that he often had f to preach to himself. Such being the case, ] he is at such times full of strong feeling. ' Strange as it may appear, although Mr. [ Spurgeon comforts others in all parts of the world by his preaching, he is himself often > greatly discouraged. God keeps him hum- 1 ble by filling, at times, his mind with melancholy. J In private, Mr. Spurgeon is exceedingly * pleasant. He meets you with a smile, 1 which you recognize as the offspring of a J heart brim full of charity toward all men. 1 R. Latiiax. 1 >n???F j High Pressure Dreams.?The New t York Star having told of a locomotive engineer's falling asleep and having a long .. dream wnne going twenty-iive ruus m iuur i seconds, another writer says that while the ] name of Gortschakoff, the Russian Minister, < was being telegraphed he fell asleep between the first and last syllables, and dream- ( ed that he went to his mother's home in the . Indian Territory; went hunting with some j Indian friends, had a great deal of sport and ? went through an experience it would take ? days to perform, ana finally, after returning ? from the hunt, during the division of their ? game, he woke up in time to hear the final ? syllable of GortschakofPs name, and sue- * ceeded in making a complete "copy" of the , message. The last man has the best chance, t and he declared that he fell asleep during a c flash of lightning and dreamed that lie r went to Europe for a year, traveled all over s England and the Continent, visiting Nor- j way in the summer, Egypt in the winter, ? saw the carnival at Rome, climbed Mount j Rlanc, spent three months in Paris, going c out regularly every day, courted and mar- & ried a young woman, whose father met them at the wharf and hit his son-in-law between . the eyes, which made him see a bright light ? that proved to be the last end of the light- v ning stroke whose beginning be saw when 0 he dropped to sleep. These fellows can, we ^ would say, dream faster than a horse can e trnt?Vrpp. T'rp.-t.i. . wv. - ' W. - . - t Concerning Hydrophobia.?A New a York physician protests against the pub- p lication of news items relating to death by v hydrophobia, lie declares that the dis- a easedly excited imaginings resulting from a the perusal of such paragraphs are in many s] cases directly responsible for bringing on S( attacks of that terrible disease. tl b flSaT" When one has had a fever, and the hai r n is falling off, take a tea-cup of sage, steep it in a quart of soft water, strain it off into a c< tight bottle. Sponge the head with the tea jc frequently, wetting the rootsof the hair. ' o \ UtisccIUmeous Reading. SELF-DESTRUCTION. AX IXEXPLICABLE PHENOMENON OX THE BORDERLANDS OF INSANITY. It is a very prevalent but erroneous belief that suicide is invariably preceded by insanity. Self-destruction is always an unnatural act, and a violation of the laws of nature, but it is not, therefore, necessarily an insane act. On the contrary a large minority?some authorities say the majority?of suicidal acts are perpetrated by persons who cannot be called other than sane, though their mental state is indisputably more or less abnormal at the time, and the organic action of the strain and nervous system sometimes in a state of excitement bordering on real pathological irritation. Dr. Wynter affirms the suicidal impulse to be "an inexplicable phenomenon on the borderlands of insanity;" the power of the will to conquer any impulse is the sole difference between a healthy and an unsound mind. But self destruction is not, as a rule, the outcome of mere impulse, but an act of shorter or longer deliberation, and brought about by some cause, which may be either real or imaginary; and here we have the simple test for distinguishing between sane and insane suicides, namely, the absence or prespnpp r?f rlplnsinns. Outside nf insanity, the passions and emotions are generally at the root of self-murder; remorse, dread of exposure and punishment, long wearing sorrow or disease, or hopeless poverty, are the usual causes for an act which is generally regarded with too great equanimity and occasionally even |with commiseration, being looked upon as a "catastrophe rather than a crime,'' although condemed by the religion and the laws of the land. With lunatics, the causes inciting to the act are mainly, if not wholly, imaginary or delusional; they often fancy they hear voices perpetually urging them to destroy themselves, and these supposed supernatural commands they generally obey either sooner or later. Men in prosperous circumstances have frequently been known to make away with themselves from fear of poverty and want; others have perhaps committed some trifling act of delinquency, which they magnify into an unpardonable offence, only to be expiated by death. Some insane persons will kill those dear to them, especially their own children, before destroying tnemselves, probably with the view of preserving them from so wretched a lot as they < conceive their own to be. There is usually previously ill health and depression, with great desire for solitude, in these cases of suicide by the insane, many of which could be prevented by the timely exercise of proper care and supervision. Melancholia is the name given to that form of delusional insanity, or partial moral mania, which chiefly manifests itself in a desire lor seii-aestruciion. nypocnonariacs may be said to be in the first stajfe of this, and in the first stage, very fortunately, most of them remain. They feel death would be a blessing and are constantly talking about killing themselves; but they are very irresolute, and if they do summon up courage enough to make the attempt it is generally abortive and not repeated. Contrary to the generally received opinion, the spring and summer are the seasons when suicides do most abound. The months of March, June and July are those chiefly affected by males for this purpose, while females prefer September, the much abused November and January. The time of day chosen for the deed is usually either early morning or early evening. The tendency to suicide varies with the occupation, and is said to be twice as great among artisans as it is among laborers; it is certainly much greater in cities than in rural districts, and increases with the increase of civilization and education. The fact that married people are much less prone to self destruction than the uumarried, may be accounted for by the theory of natural selection, as it is usually, and especially with women, only the more healthy both in mind and body who enter the married state; while the fact of suicide among males being always so much more numerous than among females, is perhaps, to a certain extent to be explained by the former having a wider choice of means at their disposal, and ready at hand. Women, as a rule, prefer to put an end to their lives by drowning; and as they may have to travel a long distance before being able to accomplish their design, it is not unlikely that they may sometimes repent, and alter their minds before their journey's end. Again, people who throw themselves into the water are not unfrequently rescued before life is extinct, and restored. Unless insane, they are probably cured by the attempt, and will not renew it, the mind having regained its self-control. Suicide is but rarely met with in old people, and it is also very uncommon in children, although instances are recorded of quite young children hanging or drowning themselves. The hereditability of suicide, though not universally conceded, is admitted by most authorities, and according to some the tendency to self-destruction is more disposed to be hereditary than any other form of insanity. Certainly a great number of those nnf on onrl f r\ + h a J v r\\\f n litTDC orn mptvi win / put an uuu in vn uu 11 a* * vu &juv*m bersof families in which instances of suicide 3r insanity have previously occurred, and the propensity is usually most strong at some particular age. l)r. Gall mentions the case of a Frenchman of property who killed himself, leaving a large sum of monjy to be divided among his seven children. N'oncof these met any real misfortunes in ife, but all succumbed, before attaining their fortieth year to the mania for suicide. Intemperance, the root of half the idiocy ind a considerable percentage of the insani;y of the country, is largely contributory to ;ne rapidly increasing number of cases of self-murder. In the French classification, vhich is "generally admitted to be pretty :rue of all countries," 15 per cent, are put lown to drink, while 34 per cent, are at:ributed to insanity, 23 per cent, to grief, md 28 per cent, to various other causes. Besides the above, taken from Chambers' Journal, we find in an exchange the followng facts on this interesting subject, recenty communicated to a reporter by the mayor )f New York: "Women are free from business cares and lo not drift into intoxicating habits. They ilso take disappointments in love more phiosophically than men. They regard a disippointraent as a natural sequence ; in fact, ire disappointed if they are not disappoint?d. A great many men do not expect it, ind not oeing prepared are so upset that they generally resort to extreme dissipation >r suicide. The greatest majority of wonen select poison as the easiest method of irossing the Styx. They are naturally afraid >f a pistol, and would naturally scream and un if they saw one while seeking a detructive method. Next to poison they seect hanging, and they almost invariably nake a bunglingjob of that, just as they do n attempting to cut their throats. Very ften they jump from a window and invariably scream; no doubt they shut their eyes vhen they take the fatal leap. The pro>ortion of married suicides is scarcely large nouch to admit the argument that marital inhappineas was the main cause. On the ither hand, it is argued that family ties end to check suicidal intent, or rather execution. Being ot a more refined nature han man, and less inclined to the tragic or leroic, woman naturally selects the easiest nd less barbaric methods of death. Shootng or cutting disfigures the body, and a i'oman wants to be beautiful even in death ; nd, besides when she takes poison she has n opportunity to say a last word which he may have forgotten. It is argued by 3me that woman, being less courageous han man, selects the easier means of poison ; ut it is a question whether suicide is not lore a matter of cowardice than of bravery, lany hold that it requires no heroism to nnmit suicide, and no doubt the great mairity of self-killings are done in moments f intense frenzy and without deliberation.