Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 12, 1885, Image 1
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VOL. 31. YORK VILLI], S C., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1885. NOU.
jtu Original ^totg.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
WHO WAS MAUD MILLER ?
BY VICTOR VERNON.
PART II.
AT THE MINES.
CHAPTER VIII.
Orphaned and forsaken, Maud spent the
next few weeks of her life in almost utter
solitude. It was quite true that she had always
held aloof from her neighbors, and
now they were shy of approaching her, or
showing the sympathy they really felt.
There had always been a sort of mystery
attaching to her father and herself, ever
since their first arrival in the camp. Randolph
Miller, notwithstanding his evil habits,
had been so obviously superior to his associates
by birth and education, that they
had scarcely counted him as one of them*
? i i . .1 1 1 JUJ
seive9, tnougn ne naa woraeu, iuieu, urau&,
gambled and quarreled, freely with them
all. As to Maud, she was as far removed
from the common level of the female community
of the camp as though she had been
a disguised princess dwelling in their midst,
in their little world, but not of it.
Now, therefore, although there were not
lacking offers of assistance, especially from
Mrs. Benson, who, besides being naturally
kind-hearted, took apeculiar interest in everybody's
private affairs, a barrier still existed
between her and these friendly but
rough people, which prevented her acceptance
of tneir sympathy; and though her
heart ached in its desolation, she was fain to
bear her burden unaided and alone.
She felt a desire to be away from this locality,
which had now become hateful to
her; but she was utterly powerless to effect
her removal. Besides, where could she go?
She had no friends, no relatives, that she
knew of. There was no spotoutside of Bear
Camp to which she had a right to turn for
shelter. Here, at least, the cabin she occupied
was her own. She had a little money,
on which she could live for a time, and
when that was exhausted, she knew she
could manage, in some way, to earn enough
to keep her alive. It was a dreary outlook
enough?there could not well be a drearier?
but she felt a sort of apathetic indifference
now as to what the future had in store for
her. It could hold nothing much worse
than the past. All her life, nearly, as far
back as she could remember it, had been
dreary. Edgar Rutherford's love had been
its one sunny spot?and now she had lost
that forever.
'1 oKA I/M?A i 11 9
UiKJL 3IIC 1UVC 111111 Oi.111
She only knew this?that if he should ever
return to her and ask to be taken back into
her heart, she would be powerless to refuse
his plea. Day and night his image was before
her; day and night, his name, unworthy
though it might be, mingled in her prayers.
She knew him to be unworthy of her lovebut
she loved him with a constancy that
this knowledge could not shake. Was it
weak?was it unwomanly in her, thus to
cling to the fragments of her broken idol?
Weak and foolish it was, but not unwomanly;
there are many women who act likewise?whom
even the sneers of the sterner
hearted, even the consciousness of their
own folly, cannot turn from their blind
faith. And it may be said in extenuation
of Maud's folly that she had nothing else to
turn to, in the whole sorrowful world, but
this shadow of her crushed joy. She brooded
over it in her solitude, until it seemed to
her that in this one fantasy was the whole
reality of life, and that all else was unsubstantial
and unreal. A quiet gentle melancholy
stole over her, when the first violence
of her grief wore off. She moved about
with hushed steps and a far-away look on
her face. It began to be whispered in the
camp that she was not in her right mind,
so strange and vague was her manner, so
difficult had it become for her to enter into
the simple everv-day matters of life.
The long wild winter passed away; the
snow began to melt and run in rivulets
down the mountain slopes; warmth came
back to the thawed earth, and the breath of
April wooed the flowers to show their
bright 3hy faces, in the sheltered nooks and
crannies where the north wind could not
find them out.
One day as Maud sat in her low chair
near the fireplace, holding a bit of sewing
in her hand, there came a knock at her door.
Her heart beat^she was timid now, and
easily alarmed?and she hesitated a moment
before answering the summons; then,
mustering courage, she went to the door.
Two gentlemen stood there?strangers to
her, though after the first glance it seemed
to her that their features were not quite
unfamiliar.
They were the two Englishmen who had
brought news to the camp, six months ago,
of the discovery of Randolph Miller's body
in the canon.
They were afoot now, and the elder of the
two?Lord Dartmoor?carried his painting
apparatus slung over his shoulder. Their
errand was a simple one?they had walked
far and were weary, and had stopped at the
first house they came to, to ask for a drink
of water.
Maud asked them to come in and rest
themselves. They spoke to her with a gentleness
and courtesy that reassured her, and
convinced her that she had nothing to be
afraid of. Her youth, her beauty, her melancholy
and innocent expression, and the
solitude of her surroundings, filled them
with interest and sympathy. When they
were about leaving, Lord Dartmoor said to
her in a kind tone,
"You surely do not live here alone, my
child?" '
"Yes, she replied, "I am quite alone,
now."
"And you are not afraid?in this wild, remote,
place?"
"Why should I be afraid?" was her rejoinder.
"These people around are friendly
, and would not trouble me. I have known
them a long time."
'But you must lead a terribly lonely life!"
"Yes, it is terribly lonely. I wish often
that I could die, since there is nobody in
the world to care for me."
She uttered the Dathetic words calmlv.
without change of tone or look. It seemed |
that this view of her sorrowful condition i
had become so habitual to her, that she |
should give it expression without visible i
emotion, only a far-away dreamy abstraction
settled on her features, and her hands
dropped listlessly in her lap, during the
momentary silence that followed. A silence
in which her visitors exchanged glances,
wondering perhaps, whether heavy
grief had not shaken the intellect of this
fair girl, who seemed so strangely out of
place amid her rude surroundings.
A fear of intruding prevented them from j
making a longer stay. But Lcrd Dartmoor, ]
taking her passive hand to bid her farewell, I
said, as he earnestly regarded her?
"I hope we shall meet again?we are
camping out a few miles beyond here, in
the canon, and perhaps we may occasional-!
ly impose on your hospitality, as we have
done to-day, unless our doing so displeases
you."
*'It cannot displease me, sir," said Maud,
raising her soft and mournful eyes to his
kind face. "I shall be glad to have you
come whenever it suits you."
"Another of the wonders of America," !
lightly observed Lord Dartmoor's friend,
Harold Keith, as they walked away. "Who
would have thought to meet such a speci-1
men of feminine grace and refinement in a j
Nevada mining camp ?" '
"As you say, it is surprising," absently
rejoined his companion. He was so silent
and reflective for sometime afterwards, that
Keith remarked on his abstraction, adding,
jocosely, that he believed that he must have
succumbed to the charms of this lovely
maid of the mines.
"No ; but to tell you truth, the girl's face
j has awakened some puzzling thoughts in
ray mind," said Dartmoor. "I am possessed
with the idea that, somewhere or other, I
I have met her before."
"It must have been in your dreams,
j then?except once, when we both saw her
in this very place. I suppose you do not al1
lude to that occasion ?"
"Last November, you mean ? Of course
not. Even then, in the brief glimpse I had
of her, something of this same impression
resulted from our interview; but I was inclined
to treat it as mere fancy, and it gradually
passed from my mind. Now, however,
it has returned with double strength. I
tell you her features are perfectly familiar
to me. Either she, or her counterpart, has
been in bodily presence before my eyes, in
some quarter of the globe, and at some period
of time, but where, when or how, I
can't for the life of me determine."
"Very interesting," remarked Keith.
"You might work up a romance out of the
idea."
"Romances are not in my line, Keith. I
am too sober and prosy a fellow ever to care
to overstep the boundary line of dull reality."
"By the way, Dartmoor, I am going to
ask you an impertinent?or pertinentquestion.
Were you ever in love?"
"Yes, once," calmly replied Lord Dartmoor.
"But it was?let me see?oh, full
twenty years ago."
"And what happened?"
"My lady-love deserted me, and left me
to pine away my days in solitary bachelorhood."
"Jilted you, did she?"
"No, not exactly. The fact is, we were
not engaged?I had never summoned courage
to declare my feelings."
"And so she slipped away! Well, you
know that proverb, 'Faint heart,' etc. You
have lived to exemplify it. I never susEected
you before of being faint-hearted,
owever."
Dartmoor smiled, shrugged his shoulders
and changed the subject.
Little did Keith imagine how deep and
singular was the impression left on his
friend's mind by the face and voice of the
young girl, whom chance had brought in
their way for the second time. They had
knocked at her cabin door without any
knowledge of her being its inmate. So hurried
indeed had been their last visit in this
direction, that on returning, after several
months spent in the East, to Nevada, where
Dartmoor was anxious to perfect some of
his hasty sketches of mountain-scenery taken
during the previous fall, they had not
even recognized the identity of Bear Camp,
so much did it resemble various others
through which their wanderings had led
them.
The time fixed for their return to England
was at hand, but Dartmoor now felt a sudden
and strong desire to postpone it. He
resolved to make his painting an excuse
for lingeringin the Western wilds. And
on the next opportunity which presented
itself to introduce the subject, he remarked
carelessly to Keith that he believed he
would remain a few months longer, as he
was sure there must be a great deal still to
see.
"Then I shall have to go home without
you," replied his friend, "My people already
think that I have stayed away an
outrageously long time, and are clamoring
for my return."
"I have'no people to clamor for my return,"
said Lord Dartmoor with half a sigh,
"so I can do as my fancy prompts me."
In June, Harold Keith took his departure.
| Left thus to follow his own devices without
interference, Lord Dartmoor managed to
pay frequent visits to Maud's cottage. Yet
not to her cottage alone, for he soon became
familliar with the families of the miners,
among whom he made himself welcome by
his genial kindness, and to whom he more
than once rendered such substantial aid as
caused them all to regard him as a friend.
CHAPTER IX.
The in west which Maud's new friend
had felt in her from their first acquaintance,
strengthen* 1 continually as time went on.
He did not i rgue with himself as to its nature.
Was he in love with her ? He smiled
at the idea, which seemed absurd to a practical
mind. The disparity between them,
in their wordly position, their ages, and all
other respects, was so great, that certainly
the possibility of love, in the commonly
accepted sense, appeared a remote one.
Dartmoor was, as he reflected, quite old
enough to be her father; and he encouraged
himself to believe that it was a fatherly
regard for her which inspired him with a
constant and earnest solicitude in her behalf.
In what way could he best help her?
how console her for past suffering, and provide
for the happiness in the future?"
There were friends of his sojourning in
Silver City, people who had been very kind
to him, to whom his thoughts now turned.
If he could manage to get Maud transferred
temporarily to their household, and enlist
Mrs. Herbert's sympathy, something might
be do ie?though what that "something"
would prove to be, he could not at present
conjecture. Atany rate, it would be the first
move, and an important one?getting his
protegee out of this dreary place, where her
life could never be anything but a complete
and cruel waste.
"I'll set off for Silver City to-morrow,"
he finally decided. "I may*succeed in arranging
some t>lan with the 'Herberts. Rut
first I must tell the child good-bye."
That day found him under Maud's roof.
She welcomed him with a smile. She was
looking brighter and better than usual, almost
happy. He was struck by the change,
and stronger than ever rose in his mind the
conviction?he had seen her counterpart before.
Where had it been ?
"I am going out of the neighborhood for
a few days, my child," said he. (He was
fond of using this gentle, paternal mode of
address, and she had grown quite accustomed
to it.) "I have come to say good-bye,
but I shall not be gone long."
"Are you going far?" she asked, with a
wistful look.
"No, only a short journey. I intend to
visit some people I know in Silver City.
How would you like to go there, Maud?"
"To stay ?" she asked.
"Perhaps so."
"Would you stay there, sir?"
"For a time?until I returned to my own
home."
"And when will that be?"
"I cannot fix a time yet; it is all indefi-1
" T>?%4- T ???rt/>. r\AooS Kl\r !
Ill It*. DUt JL \VcU5 LIIJ lining LI Icll)
you would find it pleasant to be with these \
friends of mine for a little while, if I could ;
arrange to have you go."
"And afterwards?"
"Afterwards, we will see?at any rate,
you would not regret leaving thin place?"
"I should not like living with stn#igers,
sir; I have got used now to being alone."
"Ther you would rather not go," said
Lord Dartmoor, disappointed.
"I doi't know," said Maud, uncertainly, j
She hesitated, then added in rather a faint I
tone, "I wish you would not go away."
Her friend took both her hands, and
looked earnestly in her face.
"You are fond of me, my child?a little?" i
ne asKea.
A blush came slowly to her face. "You :
have been very kind to me, sir," she answered
gently. And with a timid move-'
ment she withdrew her hands.
Lord Dartmoor's heart beat last. He turn-:
ed from her and walked to the window, |
j marvelling at the strange fascination she
had begun to exercise over aim. Did it j
spring from the wonderful, my terious re- i
| semblance she bore to that being, or that j
vision?which was it??that appealed to his j
memory so often in her look, her tone; that j
had never appealed so strongly as just now, j
in that blush and lovely glance ?
Suddenly, clearly, the conviction flashed i
over him. It was no hallucination?no
mere trick of fancy that perplexed him.
The resemblance was real?the features, the
expression, were identical with those of a
picture which constituted one of his most
treasured possessions at home.
Maud Barnett?Maud Miller! could there
be any affinity between these two?
Twenty years had passed since the skillful
brush of the then poor painter had depicted
on canvass the beautiful form of the girl
who had won his youthful and ardent love.
For twenty years amid the varied experiences
of a checkered life, the transitions
from poverty to wealth, from comparative
obscurity to the distinction of an earldom
and the brightness of well-earned fame, he
had cherished the memory of that early
episode, which had been so suddenly and
inexplicably brought to an end, and borne
within his heart a shrine sacred to his lost
love.
And now his hair was turning gray, he
had found far lrom home, the very counterpart
of what he missed and mourned !
********
Lord Dartmoor was gone, and Maud felt
? ranpwiil nf thp loneliness that had latelv
given place to somethiug like hope and
pleasure in her heart, while in the enjoyment
of his society, or at least in the knowledge
that he was near her.
Some days passed, and she learned from
one of the neighbors that there was an excitement
across the mountains, near by. A
man had been murdered and the Vigilants
(an organization still in force in that section
of the country) were hunting diligently for
the murderer. Neither the name of the
later nor that of his victim had yet been
learned.
One evening, just at dusk, as she sat near
the open door, a figure darkened the entrance.
With a cry, she started up?it was
Edgar Rutherford.
Pale and haggard, with wild eyes and disordered
dress, he looked the spectre of his
former self.
"Maud," he said, hoarsely, "you loved
me opce. I have come to put my life in
your hands. The Vigilants are after me;
they have hunted me like a dog, day and
night, for ten days past. Can you save me ?"
And then she knew that he was the murderer.
White to the lips, cold with fear and horror,
she barely managed to answer him in
the affirmative. She gave him food, for he
was starving; and then showed him a place
where he might stay concealed.
After some hours had passed, and there
was no alarm, he got courage to creep out,
and sought to talk to her, and extenuate his
conduct. But she shrank from him with an
unutterable loathing of his presence. It
was abhorrent to her to think that she could
ever have loved this man. He was abject
in his appeals to her pity, his expressions of
remorse for the past; but when he alluded
to the former tie between them, she hushed
him sternly, instantly.
"Vouor anpfllr tn mp ftf that flirain !" she
cried. "I will not bear it. You have forfeited
all right even to remind me of it. I
will shelter you and save you, if I can ; but
it will not be because of anything in the
past. What was once between us is dead
and buried forever. I shudder to think that
it ever existed."
And then he was dastardly enough to
say?
"You have yourself to blame for this.
Remember, I told you once that if ever I
throw my life away, it would be your fault.
My words have come true."
Upon thisshe rose and Jeft him ; nor would
she speak to him again.
When four days had passed, he said to
her sullenly that he was sick of hiding in
this hole, and that he meant to slip away to
the coast, and embark on some vessel there.
"It will be a great risk," she rejoined.
"I advise you to stay where you are."
"Why should you care?" he retorted.
"My life is of no value in your eyes; it
cannot matter to you whether I go or stay."
He was standing between her and the
window, through which the moonlight
streamed in upon the floor. As he spoke,
a shadow-crept across this brightness; and
Maud, quickly raising her eyes, saw outside
the dark form of a man, plainly defined
against the broad white space beyond; a
leveled gun was raised to his cheek.
A warning cry broke from her lips, and
she flung herself between Rutherford and
the window, covering him from the deadly
aim. Simultaneously with her movement
came a flash, a ringing report?and when
the smoke cleared away, two figures, stained
with warm blood, lay together, white
and senseless, in the light of the moon, as it
streamed upon the floor.
But the Vigilante was gone.
[to be continued.]
An Industrial Revolution.?A correspondent
of the New York Tribune writes
from the New Orleans Exposition : There
is an industrial revolution going on in the
Southern States, as shown by the variety of
products of the field, the forest, the mine,
the quarry and the mills exhibited here.
Southern pig iron is competing successfully
with that of Pennsylvania. Four years
ago there was only 583,G(J6 spindles in the
South. Cotton mills have increased so rapidly
that now there are 1,200,000 spindles
in the Southern States. That is, of course,
a small proportion of the 12,250,000 spindles
In the United States, but it is a fair indication
of rapid increase of manufactures in
the South. New Orleans no longer gets her
coal from the North, but brings it from
Alabama and adjacent States. The ores
and mineral wealth of the South occupy a
conspicuous place in the exhibits of that
section. Railroads are being constructed to
reach these mines and open comparatively
new territory. In Florida, for instance,
there are twenty-eight projected roads with
charters, some of which have already begun
work. In Texas there is an average of
over a dozen new roads chartered at each
session of the Legislature. The numerous
small lines, which have been the characteristic
of the Southern system, are consolidating
into trunk lines, with sufficient mileage
and capital to assure their successful
operation. The effort to secure the adoption
of the gauge on all Southern roadsmost
of them are broad gauge now?is another
move in the direction of increased
through traffic. The Southern exhibts are
largely made up of raw material, but the
number of exhibits of these sources of
wealth, with the showing of manufacturers,
indicate that the people here begin to realize
the necessity for diversification of industry."
Learning Easy Things.?There are
some boys who do not like to learn anything
that is hard. They like easy lessons
and easy work; but they forget that things
which are learned easily are comparatively
little value when they are learned. A man
who confines himself to easy things must
do hard work for small pay. For example,
a boy can learn to saw wood in five minutes;
any boy can learn to saw it in the same
time; any ignorant person can learn it just
as easily; and the result is the boy who
has only learned to saw wood, if he gets
work to do, must do it in competition with
the most ignorant class, and accept the
wages for which they are willing to work.
Now, it is very well for a boy to know
how to saw wood. But suppose he knew
how to build a steam engine ? This would
be much harder to learn than sawing wood;
hut when he had learned it, he would
know something which other people did
not know, and when he got work to do,
p/>nl(] not come and fet it uwav
from him. He would have a prospect of
steady work and good wages; he would
have a good trade, and so he independent.
Boys should think of this, and spend their
early days in learning the things they need
to know in after years. Some hoys are
very anxious to earn; hut this is not always
best. It is often more important that
hoys should learn. When they are young
they can earn hut little, hut they can learn
much, and if they learn things thoroughly
when young, they will earn when they
are older much more than enough to make
up for the time and labor which they
spent in learning what to do and how
to do it.
! gjtotes of Srwriiv Europe.
OBSERVATIONS ON IRELAND.
BY REV. R. LATJIAN.
. ?
[Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.]
Every son of the Emeral Isle is, so soon
as he puts his foot on a foreign soil, honored
or stigmatized?it is difficult to learn which
is meant?with the name Paddy. "A Paddy
from Cork" is the designation of a genuine,
full-blooded Irishman, in whose veins
no Scotch or English blood flows. Paddy
is often, if not always, for the sake of brevity
rather than euphony, shortened into
Pat. This is done apparently by dropping
! the last syllable and changing d into t. This
is only apparently the fact. In reality Pat
is an abbreviation of Patricius, the Latin
name of the tutelar saint of Ireland, and
certainly one of the most remarkable men
the world ever produced. There are, no
doubt, some persons, perhaps many, who
are incredulous as to the existence of St.
Patrick. They are disposed to regard him
as a fabulous beij^J which never had an existence
save in the morbid imaginations of a
grossly ignorant and degradedly supersti[
tious people. Such is not the case. St.
I Patrick is no myth. It is true that many
of the accounts "which tradition gives of
him are incredible; but notwithstanding
this, the existence of St. Patrick can be
proven beyond a historic peradventure, and
his life and labors are intimately and
inseparably connected with the civil and
ecclesiastical history of Ireland.
It is not easyt with unerring4certainty, to
I learn the place of St. Patrick's nativity.
! Several countries claim to have given him
birth. No doubt this had, in some degree,
a tendency to make the impression on the
minds of some that such a being never had
an existence. Those who come to this conclusion
from this fact should remember
j that the birth-place of quite a number of
I illustrious men, of both ancient and modern
times, is not known. The probability is
that St. Patrick was born in Gaul, now
France, in the year 372. The Papal church
claims that he was a devoted Catholic, while
the Protestants of Ireland, at least some of
thern, as confidently assert that he was a
Protestant of the dyed-in-the-wool Presbyterian
type. The truth probably lies midway
between these extremes. I suppose
St. Patrick was neither a staunch Catholic
nor a rigid Presbyterian. About the time
j of St. Patrick the church was in a very peculiar
state. It was mixed up with much
| that was pagan in its origin. I do not,
however, propose to settle, or even underI
take to settle the grave but surely not very
: important question whether St. Patrick was
| a Catholic or a Presbyterian, further than
! simply give my opinion that he was neither
as they now are.
The history of St. Patrick's entrance into
Ireland is certainly interesting, if it is not
| edifying. The name of one of the early
j Kings of Ireland was Niall, the progenitor
' 01 tno V'iNiailS. .at uim unit*, ntrtir uic
j close of the fourth century, the Romans
I greatly troubled the inhabitants of the BritI
ish Isles. Niall collected a large army com|
posed of Irish, Pictsand Scots, and marched
against the Romans in Britain. The celebrated
Roman wall, parts of which are still
standing, was forced and the Romans were
overcome and put to tribute. This made
Niall illustrious, not only in his own country
and in the eyes of his own subjects, but also
in the Gallic Provinces. In Gaul there were
some Saxon tribes. These, oppressed by the
i Romans, applied to Niall lor succor, which
! was granted. Niall led the expedition in
; person. Landing on what is now the coast
j of France, he devastated the Roman settle- |
ments, and then returned to his native isle
loaded with spoils and treasure. From
Gaul, Niall brought with him to Ireland J
two hund red captives. These captives were
I sold into bondage for a period of seven years,
j in accordance with the prevailing custom of
I the times. This custom evidently was of
i Hebrew origin. Among these prisoners
j was one who afterwards received the name
St. Patrick, by which name he is known all
over the world. Two of St. Patrick's sis'
ters, Lupida and Deverca, were also brought
! with him as slaves.
The fact that Patrick was, under these eir!
cumstanees, brought to Ireland no doubt
i led some to conclude that he was a Roman.
The weight of testimony, however, seems
to be that his mother was a native of Wales
and his father a Gaul. Really it is not of
i much cousequenee where he was from or
: of whom he was born.
When Patrick was brought to Ireland in
| the capacity of a slave by Niall the Grand,
I as he was called, he was sixteen years old.
He was sold to a man by the name of Milcho
who lived in Antrim county, some
place near Klemish Mountain. This mountain
is about eight miles a little northeast
from Rallymena, and about half that
distance in a south-east direction from the
town of Broughshane. The Braidwater,
; a small but beautiful stream, winds its way
j north and west of Slemish among the hills
and through the valley, until it empties in!
to the main. From the top of Slemish,
| which is about fourteen hundred and forty
i feet high, the view is charmingly delightful.
East, about fifteen miles distant, may
be seen the North Channel, dotted all over
with boats plying between Earn, Belfast,
Carifugus and Bangor. The town of Belfast
cannot be seen because Cave Ilill intervenes.
South-west, Lough Neagh stretches
! out in the distance like a long bank of
I yellow, clay-colored clouds. Ballymena,
Broughshane and other towns are seen. The
; valley of the Braid presents from the top
of Slemish one of the most lovely sights I
j ever witnessed.
It was at the toot of Slemish on the west
I side, perhaps, that Melcho the Master of St.
. Patrick lived. In this vicinity, some place
. between Slemish and the town or settlement
of Breckna, St. Patrick watched the flocks
(some say swine) of his master as they browsi
ed on the sides of the mountain or grn/.ed
over the valley of the Braid.
The tradition is, and this is the best au1
thority that exists on the subject, that on
i the top of Slemish, or rather near the top on
; the north-west end, he retired that he might
, engage in prayer. On that end there is a
l strange rock or rather a strange break out
in a large rock. This rock, about as high as
i a man's head and extending a considerable
distancee across the end of the mountain,
, has in it a very peculiar groove or recess
1 which forms what is called St. Patrick's
chair. The face of the rock appears as if a
i section about two feet wide and about tin?
1 same in depth had been taken out from the
top until within two feet of the ground. In
this, tradition says, St. Patrick was accustomed
to sit and rest. The chair is comfortable
when you get in it, but it requires
.Li-?- \' ^ ,1 ....Li
; some effort 10 enect tins. .mi uuuih hum!
dreds of individuals have sat down in this
! stone chair of St. Patrick.
Slemish is still used for grazing purposes,
: as it was fifteen hundred years ago. The
' east side which slopes off towards the North
1 Channel, was covered with sheep on the day
! on which I climbed up its rocky side.
These sheep were watched by shepherds?
as lazy looking fellows as I ever laid my
j eyes on.
After serving out his seven years'bondage,
near Slemish, St. Patrick returned to
j Gaul. Sometime afterward he entered the
College of Tours. Jn this college there was,
at that time, a professor by the name of Martin,
who was the uncle of St. Patrick. Marj
tin died some five years afterward and St.
Patrick went to Home. From Pome he
went to some of the islands of the Mediterranean
sea. In the meantime he joined
what was known as the barefooted order of
St. Augustine. After a period of fifteen or
twenty years from his leaving Ireland, he
| was by some ecclesiastical authority?the
Catholics say by Pope Celestine, and they
are probably right?sent hack to preach the
gospel in the land in which he had once
i been a slave.
; What the original name of St. Patrick
I was we do not know. When he was bap
tized, which was probably done while at
college at Tours, or afterward when at Rome,
he was called Succath, and when he was ordained
to preach thegospel, which probably
took place after he returned from his visit
to the islands of the Mediterranean, he was,
by St. Germain, who ordained him, called
Magonias. The name Patrick, the only
name by which he is known, he received in
the following way : As a mark of respect,
and for the purpose of giving dignity to him
as a missionary to the Irish, Pope Celestinc
conferred upon him the order of Patricii.
This order was instituted by Constantine
the Great, the first Christian emperor.
Among the Ramans there was an order
called the Patricii, but the order which was
instituted by Constantine in the Church
was more honorable than that which existed
in the civil government of Rome. The
Christian order of Patricii was next in rank
to theemperor's. From Patricii is derived,
not regularlv. but in fact. Patrick, and from
Patrick we get Paddy, or, for short, Pat, the
common sobriquet of the male inhabitants
of the Emerald Isle.
In 432, when sixty years old, he landed
iu Ireland at what was then called C'rioch
Cuallan, now Wickloro. Laorgre, thegrand
son of Niall or O'Niall, by whom he had
been made prisoner and sold to Milcho, was,
at that time, the king. After preaching!
for some time in the vicinity of Wieklon,
St. Patrick pushed his way northward and
made port in Dundrum Bay, County Down.
When he and his party, which consisted
of twelve assistants, landed, the inhabitants
of the adjacent country mistaking them
for pirates, collected and rushed to the
beach to drive them away. On approaching
near they were awe-struck by the grave
and venerable appearance of St. Patrick,
who immediately began to preach the gospel
to them in their own language, which he
had learned when a slave. Among those
who had gone out to drive away the supposed
pirates were a son and two daughters
of Milcho, the former master of St. Patrick.
These embraced the gospel. St. Patrick
went to the residence of his former master
for the purpose of converting him from
paganism. Milcho refused to hear the instruction
of him who had once been his
slave and being enraged that his children
had become followers of St. Patrick, set his
own house, which, like all the houses in
Ireland at that time were made of wattles,
or withs, on fire and threw himself into the
flames and perished.
Perhaps three miles from Slemish and
directly north of it on the opposite side of
the Braid water, is a small but craggy mountain
called Skerry. On this it is said St.
Patrick erected the first church built in Ireland.
It was built of stone, of which there
isa superabundance on the mountain. This
house was afterward torn down and another
erected, not on the old foundation but just
by the side of it. The foundation of the first
house is still plainly to be seen. The new
house, which is thought to he more than a
thousand years old, is in a dilapidated state.
Whether St. Patrick was a Catholic or not
this old church on the top?absolutely on
the top?of Skerry, fell into their hands.
When the effort was made by the English
under Henry the Eighth and his immediate
successors to convert the Catholics to Protestantism
one way that was resorted to, was
to tear down all the Catholic churches. This
same modeof converting Catholics was prac
I tieecl in Scotland. The only ecclesiastical
edifice which escaped these fanatics in the
City of Glasgow was the Cathedral. The
church on the top of Skerry was torn down,
rather it was rendered unfit for purposes of
worship. The ruins consist of the wall of
one side about ten feet high, a portion of the
wall of the other side, and a portion of the
wall of one end. The other end wall is very
little damaged. The masonry of this old
ruin is such as we never see in America.
The cement which holds the stones together
is as hard and as strong as the stones
themselves.
Attached to his old church on the top of
Skerry is a grave yard and a vault. The
vault is built above ground. It is perhaps
ten feet long and eight wide. It is covered
over with large flat stones. The door is at
the end and is secured against entrance by
strong iron bars. These are of modern date.
Recently the Catholics have constructed
a strong stone wall around the grave
yard, which also encloses the old church and
vault. By the Catholics in the surrounding
country who appeared to me to be abjectly
poor and degradedly ignorant, Skerry
is regarded with superstitious veneration.
From Slemish to Skerry is perhaps three
miles. The two mountains are in full view
of each other. My guide to Skerry?or rather
theindividual who unlocked thegatethat
I might enter the old graveyard?was a girl
of perhaps ten or twelve years of age. She
had a sweet face and a sparkling eye, but
as broad a brogue as I ever heard. Her
clothing declared that she was the child of
poverty and her actions betrayed that timidity
which pinching poverty always begets
and cherishes. After she discovered that
she would be treated with respect she became
very communicative, and among
other things gave me the following infor|
mation. I shall repeat her words, not in
her Irish brogue but translated into English:
...it. w.,:i,i
W nen ni. i'uiriCK uuiui iiiiih*u in uuiiii
this church the devil undertook to prevent
him. They quarreled 011 the top of Slemish.
The devil and St. Patrick ran a race
to see which would get to Skerry first.
Hotli Hew from the top of Slemish and St.
Patrick beat him. The devil lit down yonder
in the hollow and St. Patrick lit just
outside of the walls of this house on a stone
and the print of his foot, knee and face are
still on the stone." This tradition, I learned,
is universally believed by the humble
class of Catholics and many Protestants
all over Ireland. The girl took me to the
place where it is believed St. Patrick lit
when he flew from Slemish. There is in the
face of the large flat rock a depression which
strikingly resembles the track of a human
being, but if it was made by St. Patrick's
foot it was much less than mine, or he
had on at the time sharp toed shoes. I
could not get my foot into the track. Near
by it is a print in the rock which resembles
the depression a man's knee would make in
soft ground. In front of these is a small,
nose-shaped hole in the rock. This is said
to have been made by the nose of St. Patrick.
In other words, the tradition is that
when he lit he fell on one knee and his face.
It is firmly believed by some of the Catholics?1
hope not by all?that if an individual
will place himself in the predicament
in which St. Patrick is said to have been
when he lit on that spot?his left foot in the
track, his right knee in the depression just
beside the track, and lean forward and put
his nose in the hole of the rock and make a
wish, it will certainly be granted. I went
through the whole service except making
the wish. A few feet from the place where
St. Patrick lit is a small puddle of water.
This is St. Patrick's well.
This suggests that there is something very
strange to me that 011 the tops of the mountains
in Ireland water is found. On the
top or very near the top of Slemish there is
water all seasons of the year, and in winter,
I was told, a great deal of water?so much
that a person cannot go over it with safety.
St. Patrick, according to the Irish, especially
the Catholic Irish, did many most
wonderful things. After, however, deducting
all the incredible things that he is said
to have done, enough remains to warrant
us in saying that St. Patrick was no ordinary
man. It is admitted by all that he was
instrumental in producing a very great
change for the better in Ireland.
He preached in every quarter of the
island, and great success attended his labors.
He consecrated, it is claimed by all parties,
three hundred and sixty bishops and ordained
three thousand priests. He had the
laws of Ireland revised and codified. In
these ancient laws was founded the trial by
a jury of twelve men, a privilege which
the Americans claim to have received from
the English, and the English claim to have
originated with Alfred ; but the Irish claim,
and correctly, that Alfred learned it, when
a school-boy, in Ireland.
St. Patrick died at Saul orSabhul in County
Down, on the 17th of March, but of what
year it is not certainly known. It is claimed
that he lived to be one hundred and 1
twenty-six years old. If so, lie died on the ?
17th of March, 41)8. He was buried at Down, 1
Patrick. A splendid monument was erect- c
ed to his memory, which was destroyed by ]
the fanatics during the reign of Henry VIII. t
In the tomb of St. Patrick, the remains of i
St. Bridget and St. Columb Kille were, in i
subsequent time, laid. 1
St. Patrick was like the most of men who i
are intensely in earnest on any subject, fa- 1
natical. He waged a fierce warfare against '
the ancient bards of Ireland. These were <
Druids, and their poetry was so charming i
that St. Patrick concluded that if it remain- !
ed in the island the people would lapse into i
the Druidical worship. With hisown hands
he burned a large number of volumes. The
people caught his spirit and imitated his example.
Some notion of the character of the
ancient poetry of Ireland may be formed
from a poem, or a collection of poems, called
Ossian, by James Macpherson. The origin
of Ossian is, however, not certain. It is
thought by many to be the work of James
Macpherson himself.
It is claimed for St. Patrick, by his followers
and admirers, that he drove all the
snakes and venomous beasts of all kinds off
the island into the sea, wneretney pensneci.
It is a fact that there are no snakes in Ireland,
and probably there never were any.
|p?cUanc0ttsi fteadiui).
HOW TO MAKE DYNAMITE.
Everybody just now is talking of dynamite,
and all sorts of wild stories of the pow- ,
ers and properties of the explosive used at
the parliament buildings in London are
floating around in connection with the pres- ,
i ent talk on the subject. The fact is that dy- namite
enough to do a great deal of damage
may be turned out with the simplest appliances
at a very moderate cost from mate- (
rials most readily obtained and in the small- (
est possible bit of a workshop. The recipe
for the making of this great explosive may
i be told in a half-dozen lines of print and told
I so plainly that any one who can read ought
! to be able to follow the instructions and
produce the finished material. The story of
dynamite is an interesting one, from the
time of the discovery of nitro-glycerine, by
an Italian chemist, in 1847, up to the present
day. For nearly twenty years the explosive
oil which came from the mixture of
nitro-sulphuric acid with plain glycerine,
remained as a laboratory curiosity. Any
book-read chemist knew of the compound,
but few cared to make it, for it was. a very
unstable substance, and was likely to demolish
a workshop at very short notice. Along
in the sixties comes the application of the
detonating oil as an article of commerce,
and then it rapidly found its way, under
various names and pretended secret compounds,
into a very extended use.
The nitro-glycerine itself was practically
useless, for it was in a shape not convenient
for the purposes of blasting, the main application
of the article where a substitute for
black powder was much needed. The difficulty
was overcome when it was discovered
that by saturatingsome inert substance with
the nitro-glycerine, and in this way so dividing
it that it could be handled readily
and with afar greater degree or saiety man
the ordinary oil. This inert substance is
found in an infusorial earth which was first
used from extensive deposits in North Germany,
but which is now found at Drakesville,
New Jersey, and at many other points.
This substance is nothing more than the
skeletons of minute plants living in water,
and which, at death, settle in layers at the
bottom. Under the glass it looks like a mass
of small cells, and such it is, and as an absorbent
of nitro-glycerine it is capable of
holding about three times its weight of the
real explosive. In this form it is dynamite
and looks like a greasy, whitish mass, which
suggests dirty, gritty lard. It is packed in
cartridges, a percussion cap attached, and it
is then ready for its legitimate work in the
drill hole of rock, or in the coal mine. Its
simplicity of manufacture is remarkable.
New Jersey is a manufacturing centre of
prominence, while other factories are to be
found in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Colorado,
California and other States. It is
shipped here and there over the railroads of
the country, and last spring a schooner-load
of over fifty tons, started from the Repanno
chemical company's works, at Thompson's
Point, for Aspinwall, to be used on the Pan- j
ama canal works.
Ordinarily it is not made of the maximum
strength, and in place of the 75 per cent,
of absorbent material, that in general use
would have about 40 per cent, of nitro-glycerine.
In this shape it can be sold at 30 cents
per pound, and just now there is some cutting
going on between the rival makers,
and even lower rates can ne naci. i\i me
ordinary strength it is about four and onehalf
times as powerful as gun powder applied
in a drillhole. Its sharp detonating
qualities make it applicable in places where
gun powder would be useless. If a quantity
of gun powder were ignited upon the
ground it would burn up, making much
smoke, but doing no special damage. Dynamite
under the same conditions, would
leave a great hole in the pavement. It has
many curious properties and as yet the
chemistry of explosives is in a growing
state, and every year sees new chapters
written in this department of science. Dynamite
freezes at 45 degrees Fahrenheit,
and is then comparatively safe to handle,
yet a sharp quick blow has been known to j
set off a solid block of it. At 12G degrees
Fahrenheit it is at its best for real work.
At 230 degrees it becomes very unstable and
above 300 is liable to start itself off.
To make it, the first step is to get nitric
acid and sulphuric acid of great purity and
strength and to make a mixture of the two
in the proportion of one pound of nitric to
two pounds of sulphuric acid. The mixture
may be purchased at any chemical works,
and should cost at current market rates
about 81 cents per pound. Seven pounds
of this mixture are placed in an earthen
jar or pitcher and into it is poured, drop
by drop, a pound of ordinary crude glycerine
costing 12 cents per pound. A glass
rod should be used in stirring the compound,
and it should be kept in ice, or in
a vat or box surrounded by ice water,
or, better still, salt and ice. The object
of the ice is to keep down the temperature,
for the strong chemical action evolves great
heat. The sulphuric acid does not go into)
the final compound, and seems to exert no l
usefulness beyond an absorber of the water
which is one product of the chemical
changes. When the mixture is complete, |
two pounds of nitro-glyeerine will be found |
at the bottom of the earthernware vessel, j
while the water, or rather very dilute sul-'
phurie acid, generally known by the name I
of oil of vitriol, will be floating on top. j
This is poured off, and the nitro-glycerine i
subjected to a very thorough washing, until j
it is entirely freed of free acid, or acid not j
taken up in combination by the glycerine, j
A little nitrate ot soda, or Chili saltpetre,!
may be added as an alkali to take up any of j
the'free acid. The explosive is now made,
and in the form of the yellowish, oily nitroglycerine
would be the most effective for
destructive purposes, but it is a very tickle 1
substance, and the least jar is apt to bring
on an explosion. In this form it is largely j
used in "shooting" oil wells, and is sent'.
about the country very carefully packed in i
felt-lined cases. Even then whe'n transport-j
ed in wagons over rough roads of the oil j J
regions it has not unfrequently left only a >1
rough place in the road to tell the story of
a horse, man and wagon passing that way. I
The mixture with the inert substance is r
purely a mechanical one. Anything will 1
do as an absorbent; sawdust, if well dried, 1
old tanbark powdered and black gun pow- 1
der, any vegetable fibre or cellulose will 1
answer, and thus In twenty-four hours or ^
less the entire process of manufacture will
have been completed from the simple materials
of aquafortis, oil of vitriol, glycerine <
and sawdust. The mixing and cooling may 1
begone through with and the rash manu- I
facturer is ready with the strongest explo- i
sive known to modern science. I (
Oiling Shoes.?A one-armed bootblack
laving taken the contract to oil the shoes of
i reporter, after the preliminary brushing
le began by rubbing the leather with a wet
:loth. When asked what it was for, he explained:
"When I began this business,"
said the operator, pausing a moment to cast
in admiring glance at the high, aristocratic
irch of the newsgatherer's instep, "I used
:o keep on rubbing the oil into the leather
jntil a man told me to stop. I thought
they'd know when they had enough and I
wanted to give satisfaction. Some of my
customers complained that the oil soaked
through their boots and saturated their
socks. I thought perhaps I had been putting
on too much oil, but the same fault was
found in several cases where I had been
more careful. Finally an old shoe-maker,
whom I knew, came along, and I asked him
what I ought to do to save my trade. He
told me never to oil a shoe until I had wet
it first. The reason was that the water
would Denetrate the leather, and, remaining
there, keep the oil from soaking through".
Besides the water would soften the leather
and open it so that the oil would do the
leather more good. My trade has prospered
ever since.
"I was oiling a man up one day and he
asked the same question you did. When I
explained the reason he said that was on the
same principle as that of painting kerosene
oil-barrels. I told him I thought they were
painted blue just to look nice. lie said it
was to prevent the barrels from leaking.
During a long voyage or a long journey by
rail, sometimes half a barrel would leak
through the pores of the wood and evaporate.
So some sharp fellow began to study
some way of preventing such loss. He first
painted the barrel blue on the outside and
then filled it with water and allowed it to
stand until it had soaked up all it would.
Then the oil was put in. The water kept
the oil from soaking into the wood, and the
paint on the outside kept the water from
coming out. He got a patent on his discovery
and now he sits in his office and draws
his royalty of one cent on every barrel made
to hold kerosene oil for shipment.?Chicago
News.
# ? -?
Beards.?Most of the fathers of the Church
wore and approved the beard. Clement, of
Alexandria, says: "Nature adorned man,
like a lion, with a beard, as the mark of
strength and power," Lacanthius, Theodoret,
St. Cyprian are all eloquent in praise
of this characteristic feature, about which
many discussions were raised in the early
days of the Church, when matters of discipline
engaged much of the attention of its
leaders. To settle these disputes, at the
Fourth Council of Carthage?A. D. 252, Can.
44?it was enacted "that a cleric shall not
cherish his hair nor shave his beard."
Bingham quotes an early letter in which it
is said of one who from a layman had become
a clergyman: "His habit, gait and
modest countenance and discourse were all
religious; and agreeably to these, his hair
was short and his beard long." A source of
dispute between the Roman and Greek
Churches has been the subject of wearing
and not wearing the beard. The Greek
Church has adhered to the decision of the
early Church, and refused to admit any
shaven saint into its calendar, and thereby
condemning the Romi& Church opposite
conduct.
JST Perhaps not one in a hundred can tell
off-handed why a point 32 degrees below
freezing point on Fahreneit's thermometer
is called zero. For that matter, nobody
knows. The Fahrenheit scale was introduced
in 1720. Like other thermometer
scales it has fixed two points, the freezing
point or rather the melting point of water.
Centigrade and Iieaumer scales call the
freezing point zero, and measure therefrom
in both directions. Fahrenheit kept
the principle on which he graduated his
thermometers a secret and no one has ever
discovered it. It is supposed, however, that
he considered his zero?32 degrees below
freezing?the point of absolute cold or absence
of all heat, either because, being about
the temperature of melting salt and snow,
it was the greatest degree of heat that he
could produce artificially, or because it was
the lowest temperature of wjiich he could
find any record. The grounds on which
Fahrenheit put 180 degrees between the
freezing and boiling points are likewise
unknown.?Macon Telegraph.
How Meals are Served in New Orleans.?Few
set tables. You are served in
the morning before you get out of bed with
a cup of coffee as good as can be found anywhere
in the world, and some bread or
little Creole pie-crust cakes. There is no
trouble about your meals. There is a restaurant
on every corner or so, or you can have
your meals served hot, and on the most
reasonable rates. As a general thing, however,
they do not "go in heavy" for breakfast
there. Your coffee is supposed to satisfy
you until midday, when you take a slight
lunch at some saloon. About G in the evening
you sit down to the big meal of the
day. Supper there is none, unless you drop
in at the theater, after which you eat something
light. Thus, at least, you will find
the natives doing, and those who have been
visiting New Orleans each winter for years
will tell you that it is the most comfortable
way to live there and best suited to the climate.
controversy has lately arisen, or
more correctly has been revived, concerning
the material of the breastworks of Gen.
Jackson's army at the battle of New Orleans.
Col. V. G. Dahlgren, in a letter to
a New York paper, insists that the breastworks
were constructed of cotton bales.
The New Orleans Times-Democrat contradicts
him, maintaining that it was ascertained,
several days before the battle that
cotton bales were unsuitable on account of
their liability to ignite, and were, by Gen.
Jackson's order, removed, and that the battle
was fought, on the American side, behind
works composed solely of the sacred soil of
Louisiana. Both parties to this controversy
agree that Gen. Jackson defeated the enemy,
and is a hero in good and regular standing
in the Democratic party.
What Girls Should Learn.?To sew;
to cook; to mend; to be gentle; to value
time; to dress neatly; to keep a secret; to
be self reliant; to mind the baby; to avoid
idleness; to darn stockings; to respect old
age; to make home happy; to catch a husband
; to hold her tongue; to make good
bread ; to keep a house tidy; to be above
gossiping; to control her temper; to take
care of the sick; to sweep down cobwebs; to
marry a man for his worth; to be a helpmate'to
her husband; to keep clear of flash
literature; to takeplenty of active exercise;
to see a mouse without screaming; to read
some books besides novels; to be light
hearted and fleet footed; to wear shoes
that won't cramp her feet.
+> ?
Sunday in Paris.?Sunday is the great
day in Paris. On this day all the theatrical'
matinees take place. On Sunday afternoon
there are three symphony concerts
to choose from, besides the conservatory
concerts, which begin in January, and
which are said to offer the most perfect performance
of orchestral music in Europe.
People wickedly say that if the projected
tunnel across the channel ever becomes a
realitv the first use Englishmen will make
of it will be to abandon"London on Sunday
afternoon.?London Truth.
If we would avoid moral intolerance,
we must cultivate our imagination, widen
3ur sympathies, search for excellences rather
than defects, and give a generous and
ready honor to those virtuous qualities
which we ourselves, lack, and which, from
habit, we have come to esteem lightly.
Bfeg"- lie that has never changed any of his
opinions has never corrected any of his mistakes,
and he who was never wise enough
:o find out any mistakes in himself will
nost assuredly not be charitable enough to
?xcuse what he reckons mistakes in others.