Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. 1 %\\ f itkjpbtnf Jamilj! ftcfospptr: Jfoi* % flroiiiofioit of % |)oIititaI, Sotial, ^griraltoral anb Commrrrial $ntartsts of tk ?oiiflj. jTERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL, 30. YORKVILLE, S C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1884. jSTQ. 41. fclcftd fflctrg. THE PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. , Great is the problem of this life, Which all its scenes involve; Its surging: waves come rushing on, A mystery to solve. The earth itself is bright and fair, We catch its vital glow ; Then swiftly as an eagle's flight Are overwhelmed in some deep woe. We gaze in awe upon the blight, Which with its brightness copes ; Then gather up the bitter dregs, The ashes of dead hopes. And linger at the shrine of woe, Its poisoned air inhale; Till life becomes a tragic dream, Each human voice a wail, Or drifting on with dreamy tide, Lured by earth's glittering sheen ; Unheeding all if Pleasure reign As our most gracious queen. This is not true philosophy, But folly's fatal snare; Brood not upon the darkened past, Of its lone shade beware. And bo not eager in the chase, Mere Pleasure's garb to wear, Her changeful garments fade and fall, As mist in morning air. The Golden mean will surely win, Its votaries will gain A welcome entrance through the gates, Where earth's best pleasures reign, There is a wondrous power for good In all earth's change and din ; When true philosophy we learn, Life's golden days begin. jtot ?tigiual ftorw. Written for the Yorkvillc Enquirer. PATSY ANN SILVERSKIN; OR, THE VICTIM. A COLUMBIA STORY. BY MRS. M. \V. STRATTOX. Now the pictures to which she alluded were not valuable as works of art, being almost the first attempts of William Barclay, a young Columbian, and had been intended as likenesses of his lather, goou oia \\ imam Barclay, and his uncle, Mr. Robert Bryce ; but as far as resemblance is concerned, they might as well have been anybody else. How they came into Silverskin's possession, if he knew their origin, or anything at all about them, he never "let on." He was no judge of pictures, and only hung them on the wall because he didn't know where else to put them, and only kept them there because his wife so often declared she "could not stand them." She once said that she did believe that if she had never "let on" about them, Silverskin would have thrown them away long ago. We saw those pictures in our childhood, and can yet remember the glaring colors that delighted us, and the exceeding ugliness of the faces that repelled us; and yet we would like to look on them to-day and give a few moments ol sad thought to the handsome black eyed boy, whose early marriage ruined him financially, and whose early death deprived Columbia of an artist. Mrs. 8. got rid of one ol them, through her habit of giving orders she did not mean, and the willingness ol Jefferson Madison Jackson to obey such. One day the boy had a pop-gun, and was annoying his mother by taking aim at things around nor, his chinabcrrv bullets doing little mischief, but being scattered on the floor. "Quit that right away, sir," she said angrily. "You'd better take one of them old pictures out and shoot it all to pieces, if you want to shoot so bad." As she left the room the obedient boy sprang upon a chair, unhooked the picture, and in a moment had borne it to a remote nart of the garden, and summoning his brother, Washington LaFayette DeKalb, to assist him, they soon riddledthe canvas, and made it as unrecognizable as a painting, as it had before been as a likeness. When Mrs. 8. found it out, she was a little uneasy; but advising the boys to bury the fragments, and herself removing the other to the garret, she trusted that Siiverskin would forget them. He never seemed to notice the absence of those bones of contention. Having so many others, he could spare them. Mrs. 8. would, now and then, regale her husband with a catalogue of her sufferings, and would conclude with, "But it won't be always," and she would roll her eyes up toward heaven, as tnougn sne wouiu intimate that a reward awaited her there, which she would soon agonize her unfeeling listener by claiming. Now it always did seem to us a most absurd thing for an injured or angry wife to talk to a bad husband about her dying, when it is the very thing he wants her to do. An oft-quoted poet says that the only way? "To bring repentence to a lover And wring his bosom, is to die." But in our humble opinion, it would be more satisfactory to wring his neck and five. Another time Mrs. 8. got a lesson that ought to have cured her, had cure been possible. There were two little girls of five and seven years who were famous for their love of mischief, quickness in hunting it up, and the determination with which they executed it. They were children of a friend, and often visited Mrs. S. by themselves. Ida, the youngest, was the most intelligent, and she used to victimize Alice, exactly a> Patsy Ann's brothers victimized her. *Sh< would put mischief in Alice's head, do the most of it herself, then slip out of the consequences. Mrs. Silverskin had a pet hen who had hatched out seven chickens. They were of a rare breed, and she prized them highly. One evening she was feeding them, and those children were playing around. Alice had a switch with which she suddenly cut one of the little chicks, hurting it badly. "What are you doing, you bad child?'1 cried the angry lady. "You've broken that chicken's leg. You'd better get a knife and cut them all off at once," and catching up the little thing, she ran on to the house tc examine, ana, it possible, save it. \\ tine Alice stood somewhat stupefied by what she had done, Ida darted into the" house, seized a pair of sharp scissors, and returned in triumph to the yard. "Here, Alice," she said, "she told us tc cut off all the feet. I'll hold them, and you cut them," and they actually succeeded in catching the poor little things and cutting I off the feet of four. Never was there a more enraged and distressed woman than was Mrs. S. The cruelty hurt her worse than the loss. Among the most prominent of the things that Mrs. Silverskin coiihl not stand was her next door neighbor, Mrs. Norton, because | her espionage and interference aggravated all the rest. The home of Mrs. Norton was ! separated from that of Mrs. Silverskin by a fence neither high or close, and this fence was a constant subject of complaint with Mrs. S., and many times did she assure her husband that it would be "the death of her," for not a word could she say, or thing could she do, without that abominable woman seeing and hearing it. He would invariably reply with the utmost coolness, "My dear, you should never say or do anything that you would not be willing for the whole world to see and hear." "Now this was a very pretty sentence, and rolled glibly off the tongue of the speaker, who every day of his life said and did things that he knew would lower him in the opinion of any one. even his wife, though of course he didn't mind her. Ought not she to hear, see, "suffer and be still ?" But she couldn't be still, or half her troubles would have been remedied, the fence particularly ; the prying eyes of Mrs. Norton being as great an annoyance to .Mr. S. as to liis wife, though ho never owned it. He had fallen into the "sere and yellow leaf," yet he thought that his appearance did not t betray it, that he was still nne looking, and t fully believed himself exceedingly digni- t tied, when he was only exceedingly pom- r pous. c He was fond of saying that he did not a care a fig for public opinion, yet he was a I perfect slave to it. He would sneer at his wife for noticing the prying of their pretty a neighbor, yet if he happened to be crossing i the yard en dishabille, and caught the bright 1 eyes of Mrs. Norton fixed upon him, he would blush to the roots of his scanty hair, f rush into the house, slam the door, overturn a a chair, snarl at his wife, and slap one of a the children, if he did not get out of the c way. But if he had a new suit of clothes, 1 in which he imagined he looked particularly well, he would be sure to have much i out door work to superintend. In short, a Silverskin was like most men, a bundle of t provoking contradictions. s Mrs. Norton, though only thirty-five, was c the widow of four husbands. How she had s managed to get rid of so many, in so short a time, we could never ascertain, and have no doubt that the receipt would be worth a fortune. All, except the first, she married for ' money, and failed to get it every time; and j yet on each departure she had displayed ! much decorous grief, arrayed herself and I children in tasteful mourning, wept in a j black bordered handkerchief of marvelous I fineness, and the funeral arrangements were J made without regard to cost! What merchant or undertaker could be heartless j enough to be particular with such a fascinaj ting creature in her hour of affliction ? Her | house was very handsomely furnished, yet no one knew 'whence her income was de] rived. Everybody talked about her, but no | one knew aught against her character. No ; one could slight her, for the woman was i gifted with such wonderful powers of fascination, that reason and common sense lost | all control in her presence, and she carried ; .everything before her. She was one to j whom the word "remarkable" was necessa-1 : rily applied. She was remarkably handI some, remarkably graceful, remarkably ! shrewd, impertinent, inquisitive, vain, self- j ish and artful. In short, remar' .bly eve-! ! rything, but good. j Mrs. Silverskin used to say that she re- j i minded her of a beautiful, but dangerous' serpent. A lady who resided here before j j and during the war, often reminded us of Mrs. Norton. The same fair face and regu- j lar features had Mrs. N. B., the same glossy ] raven hair, the bright dark eyes that could express anything she chose, the high, stain-! less forehead, the perfect mouth, the pearly I teeth, the same singular fascination of look, I manner and voice, that few women and no I men could resist, the same characteristics, t too. < When Mrs. B. appeared upon the street, 1 i she was always "the observed of all observ- 1 ers," and she enjoyed such triumph over the ] rest of her sex. She drifted away with i Sherman's army, and afterwards died in 1 f New York. We only allude to her to give i ; abetter idea of Mrs. Norton than we might I < - otherwise convey. i 1 Mrs. Norton had "that excellent thing in 1 ; woman," as somebody calls it, "a low sweet } voice." She never scolded like open, lion- s est, above-board Mrs. Silverskin; but she 1 . uttered sharp, scathing, bitter things that s no one but her victim heard, but which s that victim felt in her heart. She never 1 inflicted corporal punishment causing loud ( cries for neighbors to hear. She only shut children in dark closets, made them stand 1 * in corners until their little feet could hardly > i sustain them,burned fa'voritetoysand resort- ? : ed to various other modes of child-torture, s For servants she had even a greater variety ? i of noiseless punishments. Double tasks, 1 deprivation of sleep, exposure to cold, forced c ; meals of unpalatable food, and other efforts of her genius, all severer tlmn whipping, ? but none eliciting screams of agony that 1 people might hear. "What a quiet house ( Mrs. Norton does keep," people would say ( "and with children and servants, too." 1 Mrs. Silverskin could not understand how \ it was managed. "For her part," she said, i she liked peace; but some how there was 1 always a fuss on her premises. If she t even threatened Washington LaFayette c DeKalb he immediately let out a yell like i he was being killed when she hadn't touch- y eel mm, ana it sne oniy snipped tne gin i Sylvey, she would dart into the yard, ut- ( tering shrieks so deafening that Mrs. S. was { glad to compromise and silence her." j On one of these occasions, unfortunately 1 for Miss Sylvery, her master happened to i ' come in, when she was in the midst of her ] performance, and following her out, he 1 quickly and energetically administered a i dose which gave her some cause for shrieks. 1 While he was so pleasantly engaged Mrs. I S. discovered the bright eyes of ner neigh- 1 bor peering through the fence, and as it 1 i was about the hundredth time that she had i been arrayed by this impertinent curiosity, I she determined to give a cutting reproof ' which should put an end to such conduct i at once. Raising herself on tip toe so that i she could look the spy full in the lace, she i said? 1 : "If Mrs. Norton will step over and take a 1 t seat on the piazza, she can witness the man- ' agement of our domestic affairs more com- < fortably." < "Oh ! thank you," replied the unabashed ' and unscrupulous widow, "I will." 1 And in another moment, to the utter as- < ; tonishment and dismay of Mrs. Silverskin, I she was seated on the hack piazza, coolly 1 i commenting on the trials of house keeping, .< and declaring that she had no idea that Mr. i , Silverskin had mch a temper, and hoping i that "he wouldn't draw blood?the sight of 1 it always made her faint." When Silver- i skin had finished what his heaviness and i , laziness made a peculiarly hard task to < ; him, and come in Hushed and angry, feeling < ; like anything rather than doing the polite i > to anybody, least of all, to his pretty pert < neighbor, she met him with a sweet smile, ! proffered her hand, and /toped he was well, ; ! though he did look so feverish, adding that 1 , "she never saw a stout man overheated, i 1 without being reminded of her dear uncle, ? who died in an apoplectic lit, brought on, ; the doctor said, by a tit of passion." Silverskin hated to he called "stout," and 1 ' did cherish a secret dread of apoplexy, lie 1 i managed to reply with something like po- < [ liteness, but the effort was so evident, that ; > even Mrs. Norton felt slightly uncomforta- i i hie, and soon departed. Silverskin, as soon I i as the door closed behind her, relieved him- ' ; self bv dashing a chair violently to the < , floor and exclaiming, "Durn her, she never had no uncle." Mrs. S. found relief in exclaiming, "Well, i if that don't beat all creation! Not content with watching all around the house, she i comes into it. That woman will la; the ; death of me. You'll have to sell this house : and move away. I ran not stand it."' ; "Why, my dear," said Silverskin, who i always grow calm when his wife grew excited, "you asked her in, did you not?" ; "But how did I do it? I only meant it as i a sarcasm, and she knew it. Who'd have ; thought she would come; the impudent, prying luggage." i "Then, my love, your first attempt at sarcasm has proved a signal failure. I ( wouldn't try it any more, dear. It is a ! weapon that only a skillful hand and keen intellect can succes.- fully wield, neither of which you have, darling. And you should really overcome that silly habit you have of telling people to do things when you do not want them done," continued the wise husband. "This morning at breakfast, you told Sylvery to be sure and shake the coffee ( as hard as ever she could, so that it would ' be as thick as mud, and when the girl gave it a vigorous shake, and it was like mud, you flew into a passion and called her names, i must say that a more inconsistent and unjust person, 1 have never in all my large, and varied experience (he had never been out of the State of South Carolina in his ; life) met with. You order a child or ser; vant to do things, and because they obey, I you nunish them. You bid the tongs to fall down and wake the baby, and when those useful and obedient articles do fall i down and produce the desired result, you snatch them up in a fury, and wonder 'if they can stay up note.' You bid the kettle to urn over and scald somebody, and when i he intelligent, well-meaning kettle does < urn over and scald the dog, you are en- 1 aged, and threaten to throw the poor kettle ] lut of the window. In fact, did do it once 1 md break a pane of glass. For my part, 1 don't know how to take such people." "And you noticed all those little things, md laid'them up against me" said Mrs. S., i n accents of despair. Then, after a few ; ninutes' silence, she added emphatically? s "Oh, if men could only see their own < aults, weaknesses, and imperfections, half i is quickly and plainly as they see ours, ] md deal with them half as rigidly as they lo with ours, how much happier married 1 ife would be." i Mr. S. made no rejoinder, when he was ] n any danger of getting the worst of an ; irgument, or a disagreeable truth was 1 >rought to bear upon him. He always as umecl an injured iook ana iook reiugu in logged silence, broken occasionally by heavy ; ighs from the bottom of a heart that his < ermagant wife was slowly breaking. So le acted on this occasion, until Mrr. Silver- ; kin retired from the room and the contest, < iearing in her heart, what? Surely not contempt. In various ways the amiable Silverskin ontrived to keep his wife in a ferment. ; For some reason that he never confided to . ler, he concluded to rent out his home and irocure one in the upper part of the town, .vhich was then called "Cotton Town," most )f the cotton merchants residing there, and nost of the cotton trade being done there. We have seen the streets so crowded with country wagons, laden with cotton and counry produceof all kinds, that a carriage could scarcely pass. Chickens were plenty at one lollar for ten and twelve; eggs at 0} and 124 :ents; butter Sand 10 cents; large shad at , .21; fruit and vegetables for a mere song. This allusion to that portion of the town ecalls vividly many a good and useful citizen who has passed away forever. O'Neill, Sondley,Chambers,McMillan, Martin, Hitt, laid well, Crawford, Allen, Jimmy Johnson, John McCully, and a host of others. But >ne survivor that we know?Mr. Ptolemy Chambers?who although a wreck from age md sickness, still lingers, a weak link be;ween us and that old time; but we digress. We only meant to mention Mr. A. Brodie, ' le being the most prominent one in our nemory. What old citi/.en does not reriember him, eccentric Aleck Brodie? ;Ybout whom everything flourished and jrew fat. Himself, his wife, his horse, his log, his cat, fairly glistened with contentnent and good living. And that horse <new perfectly well every weakness and peculiarity of his master, and when overcome )y the heat, or some other weakening influ ince, the old man would fall to the ground, hat sensible animal would stand patiently py until some person came along and replaced him in the saddle. This often happened, but he was never hurt. We retnemper once seeing him fall from his horse into J i large cellar that stood open in front of Mr. I ieorge Nutting's store, on Main street. 1 le ell on his head, and his short legs and big pody leaned on the brick steps. A little jirl (perhaps ourself) who witnessed it, .creamed loudly, "Mr. Brodie's killed ! Mr. Brodie's killed ! Come somebody," and somebody did come, and Mr. Brodie was restored to the back of his steed, perfectly un- i mrt, and with an exclamation of "dom that j rellar !" he went on his way. He owned a high, red-lined gig, in which I le rode with his wifeevery afternoon. They j ,vere often seen riding along sound asleep, j md it was said that they went to sleep as soon as they left their door, and did not i iwake until they returned to it; but the j lorse knew all about it, and the excellent j rouple were safe. Our heroine, Patsy Ann Silverskin, took i ride in that gig once, that she never did 'orget, and during which she sustained her :haracter as "A Victim." There was a big ramp-meeting in Lexington, and it seemed ike everybody who couldn't go during the ,veek, had determined to go Sunday niornng. Patsy Ann, then only fifteen years old, lad an invitation from a young man for the irst time in her life (girls did not enter soriety so soon then, as they do now) and was, pf course, quite excited about it. There .vas such a demand lor horses and vehicles if every kind, that the supply of public | mes was soon exhausted. There were no I go-ahead Wesley Starlings, Dalcys and I McK nights then, with big stables and un- j i mi ted numbers of fine horses and car- j iages. There was no energetic Tom Harper to step forward on a pinch, and let his Sine horses and strong capacious wagon make ! jp deficiencies, and in the kindness of his :ieart prevent disappointments. In fact, j they were not so necessary, for everybody j who could afford it, and many who couldn't, i kept horses and carriages of their own; but | Sherman has cured them of that, and hard j times have kept them cured. Patsy's escort (we wonder where he is | now, and if he remembers that ride) had j not taken precautions against disappoint-; inent, and could get nothing until he be-1 thought himself of Mr. Brodie's gig. It i bad never been hired, but the young man I was a favorite with its owner, and he secured it. They started at six o'clock, and | lid not reach Congaree bridge until eight, j That horse took adetermined stand atevery ; grog-shop door that the old man had ever ; entered. Maybin's Hotel, and the United j states, kept by Col. A. M. Hunt, were the j leading ones here then, and it.seemed to the ihy young girl that a greater crowd lounged 1 in front of them, than ever did before on Sunday morning. Opposite Hunt's hotel was a whole block of groceries and barrooms, of course all closed ; but that made 10 difference to the horse. He had his ideas jf duty, and was determined to carry them Hit. lie would go through the usual programme, and he did, not missing one place, 31* leaving it until a certain time had elapsed. Mr. Brodie was very social, and when he got to talking never hurried himself, and that horse knew exactly how long to tarry it each place. Next door to the corner, on which Mr. M. McDonald has lately erected a neat brick building, was the large store, grocery, and bar-room of Mr. McAndrew, who was a friend of Mr. Brodie, and with whom the ild gentlemen spent more time than with my of the rest, and there the horse took i determined stand, bent his head, planted lis feet firmly, and prepared for a nap. rhere the young couple sat, mortified mough. The horse was pulled, the gig was pushed, and other measures adopted; but the horse, as obstinate as his master, and is determined to do what he conceived to ae his duty, would not move an inch. They knew that it would not do to strike him, >r even brandish a whip before his eyes, l'liat experiment had once been tried, and . :ie had shown his resentment bv rearing un >n liis hind legs, and walking .several yards' in that singular way, without giving a j :hought to his driver who lay in the street, | md who of course was not Mr. Ilrodie. Fhe last words of that gentleman to the |: rouug people had been when they started, : 'Don'tyou hit that horse. If you do, you'll epent it." " ;1 Mrs. Silverskin had a large garden, with | A'hieli she took great pains. 1 ier fruit, veg- j i .'tables and flowers were her pets, and she ; t vould talk to them as if they were human j j icings. Mr. Hrodic kept large flocks of j >igeons, and they made sad havoc in Mrs. < Vs garden, until she bethought herself of ! >lacing a scare-crow in the middle of her < strawberry bed. A pair of Silvorskin's old : >ants, stuffed with cotton, an old coat filled i >ut with pillows, with the addition of his >road-brimmed hat, was quite a success, and : ier berries, no longer molested, were ripen- i ng beautifully, when all at once, Silver-1 i ;kin took to early rising. The scare-crow s :ook to resigning his office as guardian to i he strawberries at daylight and mystcri- ; nisly disappearing, and a quantity of corn ; ook to spilling itself among the plants, and i he pigeons came down like a shower of I ocusts and devoured corn and berries both, < >efore the delinquent scarecrow ..ould get < >ack to his post; and when Mrs. S. visited i ier garden, her grief and astonishment i ,vere affecting to behold. ; She related her woes to Mr. Silverskin, i imploring him to get his gun and shoot if 2very bird that lighted in the garden. Her i liearer looked at her with stern surprise a s minute before he replied, "You know very t well that Brodie is the last man in Colum- I liia that any one would want to fool with. ; 1 If any man shot one of his pigeons, he'd j c shoot that man, or bruise him up so lie \ might as well be shot. It may seem to you ' i nice thing to be a widow, but it does not seem to me a nice thing to be a disfigured 20rp.se. Tf you'd put the right sort of a ; . scare-crow?something ugly looking?the x pigeons would stay away." J "I don't know how I could make any- \ thing uglier," said the lady. "Didn't I 1 take trouble to stuff a suit of your clothes, 1 put your hat on it, and make a figure so like (. you that I thought it would scare any- 1 thing." ; But she took the hint, hunted up her di-: , lapidated uunsiauie, aim siuck u on me j liead of the scarecrow, where it proved a ! , sufficient guard to the few remaining straw-j ( berries, and perhaps it conveyed a silent: s reproacli to the conscience of Mr. Silver-1 j skin, for her garden was no more molested. | ] Hut how we have digressed. We didn't i mean to tell all this now, but to bring it in j . regularly in its proper.place; but "the best i laid schemes of wife and mm, gang oft1 agley." j ( We will now go back to Patsy Ann in her ; j infancy, whom we left in the big arm chair j < where she had been placed by Granny j < White, while thatcareful person mixed and J | tasted brandy toddy for the mother, who i lay looking lovingly at the little bundle in < the chair, Tier first daughter. She had not < found much comfort in her first horn, Wash- ? ington Lafayette DeKalb, who although f | but three years old, was an exact and pre-11 cocious counterpart of his father mentally < and physically. * j Mr. S. had not yet blossomed into the i flower of a man whom we have rather pre- j ' maturely described. I-Ie was of course not j 1 so old, bald-headed, or so sarcastic. We all 1 "do suffer an earth change," as years roll ; over us; but he was as stout, and some of 1 his agreeable traits had already developed i themselves particularly his habit of "plump- I ingdown" on things; but Mrs. Silverskin < did not think of that when he approached. 1 and bending down kissed her with unusual j < affection, and asked, "where's the baby?" ; 11 is "plumping down" was all forgotten, i i He had not yet killed any cats, or "made j i a mash" on any Dunstable bonnets, so she i i smiled fondly, as she told Granny White to bring the baby. Mr. S. was just about i I f#? "nlumn" hiiri?plf rlnu'ii in thfi arm nhair. > when a sudden recollection made Mrs. S. : scream wildly, "My baby! oh, my baby! 1 He's plumpt down on it." But he hadn't. Granny White, who also j 1 beheld the impending catastrophe, as she 1 was advancing to exhibit the treasure, sent i forth a howl that made Silverskin stagger i back in affright and so confused and astonished him that he rushed from the room ejaculating something that sounded like? "d?n the baby!" but of course it wasn't. < The excited mother took refuge in a eopi- i ous shower of tears, while the angry nurse, j < (after she had handed the sick woman what i she called the "camfire") walked the fioor: with the rescued infant, exclaiming inces-1 santly, "It's a maraclc?it's a perfect mara- j cle, that this darlin' prcshus sing aint a corpse. Lord a massy! what a rescape! What fools men do be. They stuff ther- . selves tell they look like poppusses, and ' ( swill beer tell they're fit to bust, and then come plumping down on poor little I, innocent babies." Patsy Ann was saved from being a Vie- p tiin then, to become one many a time in afterlife. The incident gave her mother ; what Granny White called "a set back," j and Dr. Davis called a fever. Patsy Ann was six weeks old, when ar- [ rangcments were made for her christening. I The Rev. Samuel Dunwiddie the good, ex-1 centric, old Methodist preacher, who was! stationed here at that time, and by whose j death bed angels might have whispered, j "Well done! thou good, and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of the Lord," was to perform the ceremony. It took place j at the house, and among the friends pres- j ent wasSilverskin's old maiden aunt, who] was very deaf, and very officious, hverything that was done, she altered; answered j everybody who did not speak to her, and ; left unnoticed those who did, and when j the preacher was in the midst of one of his long prayers, she said aloud, thinking she I had whispered, "For the land sake why ] don't he quit? He must be gwine to pray j all night." It made no difference to the minister, who I was as deaf as she was; but it made others j. smile at an unseemly time. .She continued i singing after every body else had stopped, j o?wl *15/1 tnontr fLinrrc fliof onrnorfifl \Trc I IVWU UJU .111X/V4V. Vl.lllfe.j Silverskin, and would, on that account, have delighted her husband, had they been done by any one else, in any one else's house and at the christening of any one else's baby. As it was, he became so confused that when asked for the child's name, he forgot it until the deaf Aunt screamed shrilly in his ear, "It's 'Patsy Ann,' after your wife's mammy, instead of Patience j Mehaly after your own aunt." When the christening was over, nothing would do but the old lady must snatch the baby from its mother's lap and trot around '1 to show it to the company ; and some ladies , being in an adjoining room, she whisked 1 through a door to get to them, and in so doing, struck the child's head against it, j' and the old lady, unaware that anything had happened, unable to hear its cries, kept darting about the room, declaring that it i '< was the sweetest, quietest little creature that was ever born, while the mother was I Hying alter her to rescue the baby, which she verily believed had received its death j wound. At last the old lady was arrested and made to understand, by pointing to the i baby's wide open mouth, that it was screaming, pointing to the red mark on its f1 head that it washurt, and by pointing to the ! door that it was done there. "The dearest me! did its own Auntie hurt it." And she J; attempted to regain possession of the little 1 Victim, but that its mother violently resist- . 1 ed, loudly declaring that she "Wished she 1 never had no baby, nor no husband, nor no I christening, if she was to have that old 1 baby-killer stuck to her." '< And rushing from the parlor, she locked I herself and baby in her own room, until Miss Mehala Silverskin took her departure, 1 which that lady indignantly did, first de- ' positing in her pocket the elegant silver 1 cup and spoon she had brought for baby. And this was the second time that Patsy i Ann was a Victim, and came near being a I dead one too, for the hurt was serious, I and Dr. Wells pronounced it a narrow es- ] cape. Patsy Ann has the scar on her head j to this day; but this family feud was, in a < fashion, healed two years after, when anoth- 1 er daughter came, to whom 3Irs. S. reluc- I tantly gave the name of Patience Mehala, and who at once inherited the silver cup < and snoon. Patsy Ann met many other j "hair-breadth 'scapes," and "moving aeci- ^ dents" in her infancy. c Once an amiable cockatoo took a fancy to . 1 one of her black eyes, and had not her t screams attracted attention, lie would have 1 gobbled down both. At another time she ? was frightened into tits, tier mother fan- < cied that she could make wax fruit, though i Silverskin told her that she should label 1 each article that people might know what 1 it was intended for. One day she dropped I one of her blackberries on the lloor where t Patsy Ann was playing. The luckless child r saw it and mistaking it for a big black cock- t roach, went into convulsions of a kind which ( her mother called "conniptions;" she but survived all these casualties, and many more than we have time to narrate, and at ten years of age was as nice a little maiden as you'd wish to see. She had a sweet, fair i face, black eyes, and hair like her mother, < but was totally unlike either parent in any i other way. She was gentle and amiable in :] disposition, and possessed a heart which f felt, even in a painful degree, for the suf- i I'erings of every living thing. The recent i a it-tcmpt of Mr. Tilman Watson to prevent ; a the carrying of chickens with their heads i lownwuril, would have rejoiced her, and ts success would have seemed to her, (as it should to everybody else who can feel) a riutnph worth the winning, though no aurel wreath will encircle the brow of Mr. Watson, and he will lose the affection of very chicken merchant in the city. He ,vill be content, for he knows that "The poor beetle which we tread upon In corporal sullen rig l'eels a pang as great As when a giant dies." Patsy Ann was so singularly credulous, hat it.sometimes amounted almost to silliless, and she was so anxious to be obliging md obedient, that she was often entrapped nto doing ridiculous things; sometimes by icople for their own amusement, and quite )ften by her mother's habit of giving ironcal orders. One hot summer day, we were on our vay to school at the Female Academy, of which "Dr. Ellis Marks" was "Principal," jefore he moved out to "Harkamville." It ,vas the same building which is now used as " ii- - nr * 1 - -1 n.,1. 1 _ n rnt Ci!l..nu Hie 01 rne "uraueu odium*.- me onverskins had moved down town again and ented a house belonging to Mr. James Boatwright?another old citizen who has otig been gone from among us, but whose ilain, friendly manner, honorable principles and enterprising character, should keep lis memory green. We passed there every lay. Now Mr. Edwin J. Scott, you need lot think that you have "spotted" our silverskins, for we have been moving them ibout, and taking other precautions to baffle :hat wonderful memory of yours. Their front garden was not carefully tended, but it was full of gay hollyhocks, four 'clocks, and prince's feathers, which had *rown of their own will, and a big cherry ;ree loomed up in the midst of them. We lad always a great love for flowers, and we ;ould not pass there without stopping to look ;h rough the palings. At last they noticed it and asked us in. We should not say 'they," for old Silverskin would would not have asked us in if we had staid there a week. Mrs. Silverskin did, and we can iow account for that. She was nursing her fourth child, "Jefferson Madison Jackson," ind we asked her whose sweet, beautiful iiaby that was, though certainly we never lid look upon any young thing so perfectly hideous as that boy of hers was, and we jan only plead in excuse, our extreme youth, and the vicinity of the cherry tree, md our own inability then to imitate the example of that great man who "never told i lie." She said that it was her baby, and we might come in and look at it. We did feast our sight on the baby, keeping an eye iingle for the cherry tree too, some of the fruit of which she gave us, and a handful of flowers, which last we tied up in a bunch, with a soiled white string, (no ribbon-tied IwiiipN; thnnP jind triomohantlv oresented to our teacher, Mr*. Marks, who* thanked us as kindly and smiled on us as sweetly, as if our bunch of common, scentless flowers, had been a boquet of rare and fragrant exotics. After that we called often, and that is how we came came to be there one August day, and saw a sample of Patsy Ann's unquestioning obedience and total abnegation of self. Mrs. S. was making plum preserves, and though she had recently been made happy by the acquisition of a cooking stove?a rare possession in those days here?the perspiration was streaming down her face, and she was as irritable as over-heated people are apt to become, and provoked at being obliged to remain in so hot an atmosphere, when she espied Patsy Ann sitting in the closest corner of the cook room, studying her lesson, and no doubt waiting to make herself useful. Mrs. Silverskin never looked into motives. Actions were all she saw, and the idea of any one staying there, when she could help it, increased her irritation, and she said sharply to the girl? "Do bring your chair closer to the stove, and put your feet up where they will keep warm." The obedient little Victim actually did so, in the gravest manner possible, and sat there until her mother, out of all patience, seized her by the arm and marched her tc the door, informing her that she "must be done brown by this time," and aeceording tc the present meaning of that phrase, poor Patsy Ann had been "done brown" often enough before to be used to it. We were younger than our heroine, but we instantly saw the absurdity of both her and her mother, and we also saw that we had better leave, and "not stand upon the order of our going, but go at once." Those same preserves made a Victim ol Patsy Ann again. When they were done, they were poured boiling hot into a large stone jar, which stood on the hearth. The jar was an imported one, warranted to stand heat, and of course, when it was lifted, out came the bottom. One of Landruin's, made right here at home would not have been guilty of such a trick. The whole boiling mass covered the feet and ankles of poor Patsy Ann, who, as usual, came just in time to get her shiire of any ill luck that turned up, or as in this case, turned clown. Dr. Harris was sent for; the same Dr. Harris who began building a large brick theatre, but being ruined by a security debt he had to pay for one Needham Davis, never could finish it, and after being used in its unfinished state for several years, it was purchased by Mr. Pollock, who pulled it down and erected several neat cottages, in the back yard of one of which, lies buried the body of Mrs. IM'ainp, the young and beautiful wife of a theatrical manager, who brought a company here to open the new theatre. It was said that she was an English lady of noble birth, who had eloped with the actor, and in consequence had been discarded by her family. It was said that the man for whom she had sacrificed so much, did not prove "all her fancy painted him." She was unhappy, and being delicate, she soon faded away. Her death occurred in the house of Dr. Smith. Habenicht's ice house now stands upon the spot. It was near to the theatre, and her husband, intending at some future time to remove her to England, buried her temporarily there. She was packed in salt. Perhaps no other preservative of the dead was then known here. De L'amp drifted off and died in poverty. The poor young lady still sleeps in her briny bed, of which no one knows the exact location, or she might have been disturbed long igo. The cottages still stand, but Mr. Pollock and his intellectual and most useful wife?the beloved friend of our own childhood?the dear encojrager of our own girlhood, Mrs. Frances Pollock, have gone from jur sight. Dr. Harris worked on Patsy Ann's feet, until it was feared that they would have to be cut off; but old Hranny White heard of the accident and came to see "what had happened to that misfortunate child now," and jaid "if they'd give her them feet she'd jure them," and we suspect that the parents vould have been willing to give the whole jody of the poor child, whose path of life seemed to be "paved with good intentions," >ver which she walked into all sorts of ;roublc. The old woman cured the case .vith what she called "some stuff of her own joniposure," but Patsy Ann always walked >arrot-tocd after that. It used to be said hatshecaught the walk from the cockatoo hat tried to pick out her eyes when she was i baby, but it is no such thing; that burn lid it. We do believe if people would quit unning after doctors for every little ailnent, and try simple remedies and good lursing, it would be better for them, and jerhaps better for the doctor, too, for we 110iee that many of those people who are so /mil i'/ir o rlnnfAi* on/1 i?n<w1 \r frv UIU,) 11/ Kill a/1 til vu/v-vv/1, unvi ov* ivuvij w )lame hi in for not milking impossible cures, ire not so ready to pay his bill. [TO MM COXTIXUKI).] BBHBBHD9HBECBSB2M (fey"' China is ahead on bridges, the largest 11 the world being her structure at Lagang, >ver an arm of the China Sea. It is live niles long and is built entirely of stone, has 100 arches 75 feet high, and a roadway 70 bet wide. The parapet is a balustrade, and inch of the pillars, which are 75 feet ipart, support a pedestal on which is placed l lion 21 feet long, made of one block of narble. i ^UsccU.utcous ftcadiug. S HARPER'S FERRY TO RE SOLI). | u . a] I THE Sl'OT MADE FAMOUS ItY JOIIX JiHOWS' . TO HE a IVES' UP HY THE O OVERSMES'T. j * o Tlie (Government is about to part with'! one of its most valuable pieces of property, j jf valuable because of its historic interest and I b also because of its great value in a business j tl way, says a Washington letter. Harper's ft Ferry, which the Government has owned jjc for nearly a hundred years, the water pow- j 1> er of which is held to be the best in the ' h country, a spot more valuable in a historic ! a< wnv than can be well told, is to be sold "to n the highest bidder" on October 21. There is o little of the bump of veneration in the j n head of the average Congressman, He's ; prideshimselfon being "practical." Wheth- tl | er he is or not is not <juite clear. Indeed, I > a study of the work of Congress, as it fioun-; h I ders about in its attempts at legislation, j a gives the average observer an idea that Ls ! that body is about the most impractical one j ii 1 that could be got together in any country, i it Whatever may he the fact, however, Con-1 & gress has ordered the sale of "Harper's Fer-; li ry," with all its historic surroundings and i \\ valuable accessories. ; tl "We had hoped," said a government j b official, in talking about the approaching IS sale, "to be able to reserve a part of the 11< property which was most interesting in a n liistoric way, but Congress ordered other- ii wise. We had marked off the spot where ti stands 'John Brown's Fort,' with the idea ! h that this much might be reserved for ever in \\ remembrance of the event which gave it the ! si name it now boars. The 'Fort,' you know, si was an engine-house at the arsenal there. I1 It escaped the general destruction which oc- h curred at the beginning of the war, and p yet stands. Indeed, it is about the only tl I land-mark left there to show where the old h j arsenal stood, or where .John Brown made ; e ! his historic light for freedom of the slaves, i d The port-holes are still to be seen in the walls where twenty-five years ago in the j very month in which the sale is to take j : place, Brown and his few followers defend-'' . I ed themselves until the doors were batter- r j ed down and the three remaining men cap- 11 j tured. We had thought to reserve this c' building to the Government on account of v ! its historic interest, but Congress ordered c i otherwise, and it must go with the other u | property." ' * It is ninety years since the Government I ; rmiv?ho?pfl thi<& viilimhlo \vntf?r nowpr. and ? with it G40 acres of land, from the State of t Virginia, to be used for the manufacture of t arms. In 1704, during the administration of General Washington, Harper's Ferry j was chosen as the site of a national armory; it is said that this selection was made by the ' Father of His Country, he having visited the place in person. This is a tradition t among the people, and is so characteristic of . the man that people find little difficul| ty in believing it. The water power is im- t mense, some supposing it to be the finest in j, the world. In 1794 Congress applied to the .. | General Assembly of Virginia for permis| sion to buy this property, and of course per- , ! mission was granted, but not to exceed (540 acres. One hundred and twenty acres were ' purchased from the heirs of Harper. This | tract was triangular, the two rivers forming two of its sides. f A subsequent purchase was made of :51ii acres from a Mr. Itutherford, where the village of Bolivar now stands. The t Government desiring to secure the valuaj ble timber of London Heights, leased in I perpetuity 1 ,.185 acres from Lord Fairfax, immediately adjoining Harper's Ferry. . j Thus prepared, the Government at once set f ! to work the erection of shops, and in 179G a ; f j Mr. Pernine, an Fnglish Moravian, was ap- i 1 pointed to superintend the work. In 1799, j' during the administration of John Adams, | , in anticipation of the war with France, the j, '> Government organized a considerable army ! i for defense. A portion of the forces was i I sent under General Pinckney into camp at | > this place, and the ridge on which they j ?I were stationed has ever since been known j, ' | as Camp Hill. It runs north and south be- j' II tween Harper's Ferry and Bolivar. When the war was closed many of the soldiers settled at this place. The spirits . of those buried here are said to be regular . i visitors to the old habitations, causing these i 1 houses to remain tenantless, and known as , i haunted houses. The negroes, who appear { ! to be especially favored with spiritual manj ifestations, bear unanimous testimony to i these reports. The more recent history of j the place is best known. Here John Brown struck his first blow for the freedom of the 11 slaves, capturing the Arsenal on the night f i of October 1(1, 1809, lighting all day on the j 17th, seeing his sons and near friends shot j down about him, and finally on that even | ing returning to the little engine house as a 4 ! last stronghold, where the forces gathered J ; against him the next morning, capturing him and his two remaining men, killing , I - -1-! -1- * 1! 4.1 4lw,? ....,1 .% 4*4-?. I * OIH* Olliriglll, WllUllUIIlg UIU ULIIM, HUU ill IC1 j piercing the leader of the band with their e | bayonets, reserved him for the hangman ;' J who did the work on the following Decern- j i her 2, at Charlestown, turning the remains | I over to the sorrowing widow at Harper's | ; Ferry 011 the same day. 1 j Less than two years later the echo of ^ John Frown's blow was heard at this spot ( ! when the arsenal and its valuable arms and c \ machinery for the manufacture of more j iarms, were captured by the Confederates ^ without a blow. The place was recaptured ; t j by the Cnion troops afterward, but not I j; : until the more valuable machinery had ' ^ j been carried off to Richmond for use by the : Confederate Government in the manufac-L j ture of arms. It was recaptured by Stone- j \ wall Jackson in 1SG2, just before the battle , | of Antietam, later, by the Union forces L. ; again. The fortunes of war left it a wreck ; s the buildings were burned and demolished, ^ | and nothing is now left to recommend the K ; visitor to the many tragic scenes enacted there except the foundations of the old j, building and the little engine-house where I ^ John Brown made his last stand, which, by j., I some means, escaped the general destruc- j tion about it, and now stands near the rail- ! v ; road station, labeled in large letters, "John ! 1, Brown's Fort." 1 ^ Harper's Ferry derives its name from a j v ' Robert Harper, a native of Oxford, in F.ng-! v ; land. He was born about the year 1703, and 1 e I at the age ot twenty he emigrated to Phila- i delphia, where he prosecuted the business of i ("j architecture and millwriting. in 1717 he ^ ! was engaged by some members of the Socio- j. I ty of Friends to erect a church for their de- e nomination on the Ossequon river, near the I S1 j present town of Winchester. While on his S( ; way through the then almost unbroken for-! t, j ests, he lodged one night with a German in i ! a lonely inn on the site of the present city of j j Frederick, Maryland. i This German's name was Hoffman, who ! {| j informed him that his best route was by the ! t| way of the "Hole," where he would see 1 some wonderful scenery. Harper adopted | sj the suggestion, arrived at the "Hole," feli j , in love with the place, found a man living | !v ! lini-n n.imnfl hniifrlit nut S.tn- ! i veils with fifty British guineas, and settled I p here. The realty of the place was in Lord ! u Fairfax, and by perseverance he obtained I C( i from that nobleman a deed or patent, liar-1 i per settled down here and established a for- j ^ ry: hence the name the "Hole" ceased, and ! p "Harper's Ferry" loomed up into perpetual { p prominence. Harper died in 1782, and was : fj( ! interred on his own property, llis moss-1 | covered grave is to be seen in the romantic i | grave-yard that overlooks the town. j u ^ , tc Tnsox.?'This is an ancient city in Ari-' e^ zona. Antedating Jamestown and Ply in- j hi outli, and visited first in lo40 by Coronado, 1 ol i it saw its first European settlers in MOO ami ti ; its first missionaries in 1581. But long be- B | fore the year lf> 10 there was an Indian vil- tl I lage established on the site of the present al city, so that Tucsonians can, if they please, n< claim an age for their town as great as the tl Santa Feans claim for theirs. For all prac- tr tical purposes, however, b">40 is a date sufli- h< ciently far away, and if Tucson only con- t> tinues to improve with age, or becomes as al [>od as she is old, much may be expected of ic place. And so far it has done well, rhile it is not a beautiful city, having but ttle of interest within its limits, it is still a ide-awake progressive sort of place, and of II its rivalsfor popularity stands prominentr forth as a city of promise. There is a ood deal of the antique about its streets ml houses, to be sure, and a stranger is not t a loss for causes of complaint; but over>oking its defects, there is much that is uidable, and the week I passed in studying ic past and forming conjectures as to the iture was not without its benefits and en>ymerits. One day we rode to some neighnri nee nnnnn mintrlv tiifkpfl awslV in a crOV * ^ 7 :e of the Catalina range, and at other times cross the plains to Fort Lowell, or to the Id mission of San Xavier. The latter is ne of the monuments of Tucson. Finished lore than a century ago and built by the paniards, who brought so much religion to le people whom they conquered, San [avier (San Havier) is to-day one of the irgest, as it is one of the best preserved of II the churches built during the years of the punish occupancy of the Southwest. Ridigfrom Tucson for nine miles up the val?y of the Santa Cruz River,one hits glimps>, from time to time, through the groves of ve oak and muskcte trees of the white 'alls and graceful towers of the church as iiey stand clearly outlined against the sky eyond. It was down this valley of the anta Cruz, which is attracting so much at ntion as an agricultural section, thatCoroado marched on his way from old Mexico, 1 1">40; and before the advent of this inrepid explorer and ever since the valley as been inhabited by the Papago Indians, hose adobe houses with thatched roofs are . uttered along the road leading to the mision. The Papagosare to Arizona what the 'ueblos are to Xew Mexico. Peaeea ble and illustrious, they are self-supporting and rosperous, and to-day it is their cattle and tieir farms which one sees; and their brown ued houses, with black-eyed children gathred about the open doorways, lend an aditional attractiveness to the ride. THE LEANING* TOWEK OF PISA. The tower has such a strange effect upon ou ! You see that the stairs are very steep u some places, and that the inner wall rowdsdown upon you in an unpleasant /ay. The effect is a little like being in the ubin of a ship at sea; you realize a kind of ndulating motion, without having the isible cause of it before your eyes. We topped to rest; a small window was at land; we looked down into the interior of he tower. It was like a deep round shaft hat had been sunk slantwise; there was list enough slant to it to be unpleasant. We Mirlarorl nn -irul mi illlil lnnken Jlfroin. The * ' "* 7 * - "O ower was beginning to move a little; we ioth saw it and felt it. The walls sagged 'ery much; it was with some difficulty hat we kept from slipping out of the door evel with the stairs when the tower reeled iver on our side. I wonder that we had he courage to complete the ascent. Towers tave fallen before now ; leaning towers are lot expected to stand any longer than they hoo.se to. The earth has sunk about the >isa tower, so that you go down several teps to get to the door on the ground floor. We were near the top; the roofs of the ity lay far below us; we caught giddy glimpses of the world from the opening in he wall?the tempting doors that invited is to step Into eternity without waiting >ur turn. By this time the hollow of the ower looked like a monstrous funnel. We vere stumbling over the stone stairs in an mpleasantly suggestive manner, when we ame to the top chamber, where the great >ells hang. Here we breathed more freely. The big bell, weighing six tons, hangs on he upper side of the tower, "to windward," is it were; the smaller bells take their hances on the down grade. This little act relieved us, for we were still affected jy the unsteadiness of the long, spiral stairvay. While we were looking off upon the jountry from the turrets above the bell ihamber, lo! all the bells began ringing ight under our feet. The sensation was is if the tower was about to be shaken to jieces; every stone trembled perceptibly; he air was whistling about our ears; one nan did it all! lie sprang on to one of the iclls and set it swinging, then leaping gayy on to another, and at last caught the big jell to the windward and got its thick black ;ongue in motion; so he skipped lightly rom one to the other, dodging the roaring nonstersas they heaved about him. Escape was impossible while this concert was n progress. The green hills were about us on the inand side; the country was as flat as a lloor rom Pisa to the sea. Away off in the corler by the shore lay Leghorn. Should we lot go to Leghorn when it lies but an hour lence by rail ? We thought it best, and as loon as the bells were quiet we went down lie corkscrew stairway and came to the juter door in capital order. I had thought o receive the finishing touch on the way lown, but 011 the contrary, having become iomewhat tangled during tbe ascent, I had >nly to descend to unravel it all, and came >ut precisely as I had entered. Thk First Inauguration.?William )unlap, the artist, graphically described he appearance of Washington and other lignitaries at the first inauguration. The lath was administered on the balcony of 'ederal Hall, in Wall street, New York, vlierea statute of Washington now marks lie spot. This building had been erected or the accommodation of Congress under he direction of Major L'Enfant, a French ifficer of engineers, who afterwards planned he city of Washington. In front of the lalcony were the volunteer companies of nilitia in lull uniform, with a large conourse of citizens. Gen. Washington isde(n-iK/i/l iic liavinnr wnrn tlirtt iltH' <| nlilin uit of brown cloth, coat, waistcoat ami ireeches of homo manufacture, even to the mttons, on which Hollinson, an engraver, ind portrayed thearmsof the United States. Yhite silk stockings showed the contour of manly leg; and his shoes, according to he fashion of this day, were ornamented nth buckles. 1 lis head was uncovered and lis hair dressed and powdered, for such was he universal custom of the time. Thus /as his tall, line figure presented to our iew at the moment which forms an pocli in the history of nations. John ulams, a shorter figure, in a similarly plain ress, but with the (even then) old-fashioned lassachusetts wig, stood at Washington's ight hand, and opposite to the Presidentled stood Chancellor Livingston in full nit of black, ready to administer the prejribod oath of office. Between them was laced Mr. Otis, the Clerk of the Senate, a mailman, bearing the Bible on a cushion. 11 the background of this picture and in lie right and left compartments formed by lie pillars stood the warriors and sages of tie Revolution. When all was ready (Jen. Washington tretched forth his right hand with that mplicity and dignity which characterized 11 his actions, and placed it on the open ook. The oath of ofiice was read, the lible was raised and he bowed his head pon it, reverentially kissing it. The Chandlor then made proclamation, "God save eorge Washington, President of the United tates of America." A shout went up from le multitude, cannon were fired near by, le music played and every one appeared alighted. A Sovereign.?A young man once picked [> a sovereign lying in the road. Ever afirward, as he walked along, he kept his >*es steadily fixed on the ground, in the ape of finding another. And, in the course " a long time, he did pick up at different nics a {food amount of gold and silver, ut all these days, as he was looking for icin, he saw not that heaven was bright )out and nature was beautiful around. He iver once allowed his eyes to look up from io mud and filth in which he sought the easure, and when he died, a rich old man, 2 only knew this fair earth of ours as a dirr road to pick up money from, as you walk ong.