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% t lewis m. grist, proprietor. [ %n f nbcpeitbciit Jfaimljr liefospapcr: Jfor % |lromotion of % political, Soeiai, ^gricnltaral aob Commercial Interests of tlje jsoutj). |terms--$2.50 a year, is advance. _____ ^ YORKYTLLE, S C., THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 1885. ^TO. 15. jto Original j^targ. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. A RASH EXPERIMENT. BY MISS M. LEE. CHAPTER VIII. Mrs. Patten had a suite of rooms that just answered Harry's requirements, and al- j though Elizabeth thought them rather dear, he agreed to take them at once. Besides ; the bedroom and a small parlor, there was another apartment which might be called either a cioset or a dressing-room; and to this there was an entrance from the rear of the house, by means of a door opening into a little cross-entry, so that a person could gain admittance into it without passing through either the bedroom or parlor. Harry pointed this out to Elizabeth as a special advantage, on account of the late hours he was obliged to keep. "I'lPtake it far my sanctum, if you have no particular use for it," he said ; and Elizbeth was quite willing that he should use it for anything that he pleased. All day they busied themselves moving their possessions and getting settled in their new quarters. And when the move was completed, they agreed that the change was decidedly for the better, and now they could begin really to feel at home. The sittingroom gave Elizabeth especial pleasure. It looked on a cheerful little grass plot bordered with flowers, through a bay-window, where the sun shone, and where she could put a little table and her rocker when she wanted to read or sew. As to Harry's sanctum, he filled it up with all the odds and ends that found no other place; and by i this means Elizabeth would be enabled to keep everything neat, a privilege especially ; valuable to one as thriftily and carefully : brought up as she had been. "Now we can begin to receive visitors," she said, as she looked around. "I felt really ashamed to have people come into my bedroom?but this is so nice!" "Don't you admit, now, that we were right to move?" asked Harry. "Of course I like it better?if you can j stand the expense." "Oh, don't you worry your little head ! about the expense?that will be all right," j said Harry, confidently. "I am glad to feel that I am on my legs again. But it's getting late, and I must be off. Be sure you don't sit ud for me to-night." Elizabeth promised she would not. But; after he had gone, she almost repented having given the promise. She felt strangely fresh and wakeful, considering that she j had worked hard all day, and sat up late the night before; and after she had gone to bed at half past nine, she found it impossible to sleep. All sorts of fancies came crowding into her brain, odd ones and disagreeable ones mixed up confusedly together; she tried to change the current of | her reflections, if such a jumble of ideas j deserved the name, but could not succeed, j Where did Harry go, every evening ? and ! why did he persist in making a secret of his j occupation ? Such was the question that j Eresented itself in one form or another to i er mind, over and over, until it wearied | her. She turned on one side and then on the other; she shut her eyes resolutely, and ! counted several hundred; still sleep would ; not come. At last she did fall into a very j light doze, which had only lasted a few minutes when a footstep disturbed her, and she was awake in a minute, x "It's Harry come home," she said to herself, and she lay quietly for a moment and listened. Then hearing another slight noise, ; but finding that no light appeared, she said 1 aloud. "Harry, the matches are on the little table next the window; can't you find them ?" For all answer she heard the click of a key being turned in the lock of ^he door which j communicated with the dressing-room. Her ] heart beat and she felt a sudden fright. : Could it be possible that robbers were effect- 1 ing an entrance ? They might easily do so, | she thought, because these rooms were so | near the ground. How heartily she wished, ! at that moment, she was safely back upstairs! i 1 :i | sne was nor naturaiiy urtive unu it ; all she could do to forbear crying out, but as she listened, scarcely daring to breathe, j she heard a cough which she was sure was ! Harry's. She was re-assured by the sound; j and ridiculing her own cowardice, she now j slipped out of bed and struck a light. "He must have come in through the back door as he said he would. What a goose I ; was to be afraid, she thought; and putting i her hand on the latch of the dressing room door, she asked in a low tone, "Is it you, Harry?" 44 Yes," was the answer, and her heart gave a great bound of relief at this complete refutation of her fears. She turned the latch but the door would not open?it was locked on the other side. "Do you want anything, Lizzie?" inquir- i ed her husband. "No," she answered hesitatingly. "I'll be there in a minute," he continued, 1 and now she detected a slight inflection of impatience in his tone. 44I do wish you would not sit up for me in ! this way." 44I have not been sitting up," she rejoined, slowly ; and without saying any more she | went back to bed. She had a vague idea : that something must be wrong, and this | idea made her uncomfortable. Everything seemed as usual, however, and she forbore making any allusion afterwards to what seemed, at the time, rather mysterious conduct on Harry's part. The next day she was searching for some trifle that she missed, and it occurred to her that it might have got among Harry's things i in the dressing-room. She started to look for it, and again found the door of commu-1 nieation between the latter apartment and her bedroom locked on the outer side. "How odd of Harry to keep this fastened," she said to herself. "I'll ask him as soon as he comes in, to put the key on this , side. Or stay?why can't I go around to ; the little entry, and let myself in that way ?" She accordingly wentaround, and attempted to open the other door. To her chagrin, she found this also locked. She felt quite provoked, and decided that Harry deserved a good scolding for his forgetfulness, or care lessness, or whatever it might be called that had been the cause of putting her to so much j trouble. As soon as he made his appearance, she stated her grievance, and asked him to open the door. "What for?" he asked, half laughingly. "Nothing of yours is in there." "Yes, I have mislaid my little needle-case, and I am almost sure it has got among your things." "I don't think so, Lizzie. However, to satisfy you, I'll look presently. I don't know where the key is, just now." "Don't know where the key is!?" "No, not exactly?that is, I suppose it's in one of my pockets, but I am too lazy to search at present." "I'll save you the trouble?may I?" "Certainly if you like." She accordingly went through his pockets, but found no key. "Could you have dropped it anywhere?" she asked.' w "I might, possibly-but I don't think so. j I'll look for it myself, presently. Never mind the needle-book, or whatever it is, i just now." "But Harry, why in the world do you i keep that room locked ?" "Mayn't I keep mv sanctum locked, if I like?" "I suppose you may?only?" "Only what?" "It seems mysterious?like a kind of Blue Beard's closet." "I don't resemble that celebrated old gentleman, do I ?" "No, I don't think you do?and I suppose ' you are rather young'to have had a succession of wives." "If I had, Mrs. Patten would not be like ly to acccommodate their remains in her establishment." "But still, it seems mysterious, as I said before. Harry?I don't think you are as frank with me as you used to be." "Now, my dear child, that is nonsense." "It'snot nonsense; it is really so. You seem to be hiding something from me, all the time." "Oh, Lizzie!?have I been deceived in you, and are you not the superior being, destitute of feminine foibles, that I thought you ?" asked Harry playfully, as he drew her to his side and kissed her cheek. "I never laid claim to any such superior-* ity. You chose to invest me with it," she answered. "Probably my perfections exist only in your fancy. At any rate, I want to hunt for my needle-case; and I want you to find that key." But the key was not forthcoming, until some errand called her away. On her return she found the missing needle-case on her table; but Harry had vanished, and the door remained locked. Now perhaps it was a trifling matter; but those locked doors worried Elizabeth, and her thoughts kept recurring to them until the annoyance she felt deepened into a positive grievance. Was Harry merely teasing her for his own amusement, or to test the powers of her endurance? Such behavior seemed to her unworthy, and inconsistent with a true regard for her peace of mind. Or was there really anything concealed in the dressingroom, which he did not wish to have her see? Several days passed, and the facts of the case lemained unaltered. And still Elizabeth pondered and fretted in secret. But pride forbade her making any further display of curiosity. She would not seek to pry into her husband's private affairs, nor ask to know anything that he did not choose to tell her. She never sat up now at night until his return home, but always retired early, and if not asleep, was careful to appear so when he came in. All this time her heart kept on growing more and more sore, and trouble, real or imaginary, assuming more formidable proportions. Harry did not seem aware of anything wrong; he conversed as gaily as usual, ana appeared on perfectly good terms with himself and all the world. One day, as she satsewing, while he lounged on a sofa near her, she heaved a deep sigh. He asked her, laughing, what was the matter. She looked up to answer, but her voice suddenly faltered, and she bent down quickly to hide the tears that rushed to her eyes. "Elizabeth?my darling!" said Harry, tenderly. "Are you vexed with me?or hurt?or what?" CUn ma *?Ar\lv IT a co f nnriorlif nnfl uiir iiitiut uv ivpij iiv u^/iignv i?uu took her hand. "Now, Elizabeth, you must, tell me. You have been quiet ana melancholy for several days, and 1 can't find out what is wrong. Have I offended you?" "Notoffended" she answered, in a low tone. "Have I wronged you in any way ?" "I suppose not, Harry. But I don't think you treat me quite fairly." "Well, of course I know what you mean. You think I oughn'f to have any secrets from you. But, you remember, I told you honestly at the beginning that it was best for you not to try to find out, and you promised?" "Oh ! it isn't that so much?though, of course, I don't pretend to deny that I would like to know what sort of business my husband is occupied in?but you seem so mysterious about everything; locking doors, and all that." "Oh ! it's the doors, is it?" Harry smiled, but immediately grew grave again. "I did not think you would worry about that, Lizzie. I asked you if I might have that room to keep all my rubbish in?" "But why should you keep your rubbish under lock and key all the time?" "Well, it's a fancy I have. And I don't see why you should care so much, I am sure." "Now, Harry, would you like me to keep things locked away from you all the time?" "My dear child, if the things were your own, and it pleased you to know that they were safe, it would not annoy me to have you keep them in any way that you liked." "Is it to keep your things safe, then that you lock them up?" "Certainly it is. W hat other motive could I have?" "Nut what is there to trouble them? I seldom go out and when 1 do, there is always somebody in the house. You need not be afraid of robbers." "Iam not afraid of robbers; still I prefer taking precautions. The servants might be I inquisitive." "Now Harry, you are talking nonsense, because if it is on account of the servants only, you could lock the back door and leave the one between the rooms open ; and when I go out I take the parlor key with me, so no one can come in that way." "I did not say it was on account of the servants only. Please love, don't worry yourself any more about such a trifle. It is nonsense as you say. Let us talk about something else." But Elizabeth was not in the mood for conversation, and soon afterwards he got up and went out. "Now I have vexed him,"shethought. "I am silly, 1 know. I wish this whim of his didn't make me so unhappy; but I can't help thinking about it. 1 never thought a cloud would come over us so soon!" Harry's reflections were not lively as he walked down the street. "Poor little girl! she's gone to work to make herself miserable," he said to himself. "Sometimes I wish I had let this whole thing alone and waited for something else to turn up. But then we couldn't starve. I don't think it will be for very long and I can't tell her. It would break her heart." "Going to X. street, Raymond?" asked a voice. And a young man passing slapped him familiarly on the shoulder. "Not just now?it's early yet, isn't it?" "There's special work to-night, you know?Miss Molly, and all that." "Yes, hang it?I know. I wish Edmunds ? i i 1- n? .1. _v ,i: wouiu come uuck ; im wick hi uwin^ m? work." "It is rough on you; but it's a comfort to know that it pays." "That's about the only comfort there is in it," said Harry, as he turned away. "By the way," he added to himself, "I nearly forgot." He stopped in front of a shop window where masquerade suits were displayed, stood for a moment inspecting them, and then went in ; when became out he had a bundle under his arm. "More mystery," he muttered, as he turned homeward. "What a "bore it is!" He rather dreaded meeting Elizabeth; but she had been arguing with herself, and was able to welcome him with a cheerful face. When he was going off to his evening's work he told her that he might be a little later than usual coming home, so that she must not on any account wait for him. "I never wait for you, Harry, as you know." "Yes; that's right. It would be too bad for you to wear yourself out with such late hours." Elizabeth looked at him earnestly, as she j held his hand clasped in both of hers. "Harry," she said in a beseeching tone, i "tell me how much longer this is going to I last!" "What, Elizabeth?" "This concealment?this business of yours I which I must know nothing about." "I hope to Heaven, my darling, that it | will not last much longer. I am heartily j tired of it, I assure you." "Are you trying to get something else?" "I am. I am continually on the lookout." "Tell me once more?and forgive me for asking you the question again?are you quite sure you are not engaged in anything wrong?" "It is certainly nothing wrong, Elizabeth ; nothing dishonorable; but it is not pleasant work. I should not have undertaken it except from necessity?such necessity as we were in." "It is something, at any rate, that you are ashamed of; I know it is. Oh Harry, give it up! Let us take our chances again; let us do anything rather than have mysteries and secrets. If the worst happens we can get help from home. Pray, pray give it up." Harry turned from her with a stifled exclamation of impatience. "I am doing it all for your sake," he replied," and I meet only with reproaches in return." "If it is for my sake, Harry, you need do it no longer, You will think of what I have said, will you not?" "Oh, yes, I will think of it. Don't worry yourself about it any more, Lizzie, I beg and entreat of you! If it makes you wretched, I suppose I shall be forced to do as you wish. It is getting late now, and I must go." He kissed her good night and went out.. [to be continued.] Ifotrs of iravrlm Cutout, OBSERVATIONS ON IRELAND. BY REV. R. LATH AX. [Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.] The last sketch closed, if my memory serves me correctly, with a brief notice of the town of Lisburn, on the river Lagan. I shall begin this sketch with a description of the old town of Carrickfergus. It was from the region of country around Carrickfergus, that a majority of the first settlers of Lancaster county, S. C., emigrated. Among these was the father and mother of Andrew Jackson, the seventh President of the United States. Such being the case, the whole people of this great republic ought to feel, and I have no doubt do feel, an interest in Carrickfergus. York county ought to feel an interest in Andrew Jackson. It has been strenuously contended that President Jackson was a native of North Carolina, and not of South Carolina. The facts in the case, as I learned them when a boy from an individual who knew them, are about as follows: The home of the parents of President Jackson was, beyond all controversy, in South Carolina. On the night before the future President was born, his mother went to the house of a friend to spend the night. During the night Andrew Jackson was born. The friend in whose house he was born, lived in North Carolina. Andrew Jackson always claimed that he was a South Carolinian. It, however, does not make any great difference where "Old Hickory" was born, but it does make some difference where he was educated. It makes a material difference on any man where he was educated, and especially how he was educated. Such being the case, York county ought to feel proud of Andrew Jackson, for part of his education was received in York county. The school house stood on the east side pf Big Allison Creek, on the plantation now owned by Mr. Alexander A. Barron. Among the schoolfellows of Andrew Jackson were William Smith, afterward Judge Smith, and William C. Davis, afterward Rev. William C. Davis. On the same day, tradition relates, Andrew Jackson gave both William Smith and William C. Davis a sound thrashing. Both Davis and Smith were men of might in their day. W. C. Davis, notwithstanding all his wild theological speculations, was a man of nrnrlio'inns intellectual iinwprs. and .Iud?e Smith was a man of eminence and the father of the doctrine of "States Rights;" not in the extreme to which it was afterward carried, but in its proper sense. The thrashing of two such boys in the same day had, no doubt, something to do in shaping the course of Andrew Jackson's conduct during life. Jackson and Smith were near the same age, but Davis must have been several years their senior. One thing is certain, they did not "hack" Jackson, and he never was hacked. But I did not hegin to write a biography of either President Jackson, Judge William Smith, or Rev. William C. Davis. What has been said was suggested by the old town Carrickfergus, from the neighborhood of which the parents of Jackson came to South Carolina. Carrickfergus is distant, in a north-eastern direction from Belfast, about ten miles. Here I may remark that an Irish mile is, if my memory serves me correctly, two thousand and twenty-five yards, or two hundred and sixty-five yards longer than our mile. Carrickfergus is on the west bank of the Lough of Belfast. On the opposite bank, and about seven miles distant, is the town of Bangor, made illustrious on account of the ministerial labors of that great and good man, Rev. Robert Blair. From Belfast. Carrickfereusmav be reach ed either by water or by land. .Steamboats are constantly plying between Belfast, Bangor and Carriekfergus. During certain seasons of the year, pleasure boats leave, perhaps, every hour. The ride is delightful. Each boat has on board a band of music. .Sometimes the Lough seems to be literally covered with these pleasure boats. The passengers are generally young people, who are anxious to find some place to breathe out the "tender tale." The Lough of Belfast certainly is admirably adapted for this, fully as well, one would think, as the "milk-white thorn" of which Burns speaks. Late in the afternoon of one of Ireland's long summer days?about eighteen hours? the care-worn sons and daughters of toil get on one of these pleasure boats; and for an hour bid an adieu to "the cares that infest the day." The only thing which is at all likely to interfere with these pleasure boats and interrupt the enjoyment of those on board, is a fog. There is very little danger of being visited with that horrible malady sea-sickness. Theshore is in sight nearly, or quite, all the distance, and the banks of the Lough are ornamented with beautiful residences. The atmosphere is delightful?braeingly cold?even in July. All this is delightful, but almost in a moment, without any warning whatever, a dense fog will descend upon the Lough and shut out the light of day. It is a darkness like that which spread over the realm of Pharoah?a darkness that absolutely can be felt. The fog horns now begin to sound, and in the language of an old poet, every one "holds the mouth to to keep silence." The feeling is awful. It is indescribable. The boats move slowly, or do not move at all. The band stops playing, and anxiety is depicted in every face. Sometimes the fog lasts for hours, but often only for a very short time. "A wee blast of wind," said an Irishman, "iver sends it awa." This is true; but the wind must be from the north and not from the south. Carriekfergus may be reached from Belfast by railroad. The track of this road runs L.'.i L.. 4-ltsv ?J/1a r\f f Ln 1 /ttirrti fni* +Lo nnf i t?n JUM tlir aiur Ul liic uwu^n i\;i IIIU cuiii^ distance. In fact, the bed of the road at some points, near Belfast, is where the sea once was. This road might very well he called "the coast road." It runs from Bel- I fast to Carrickfergus, thence to Lame, and I at Lame it turns land-ward to Ballyinena, j a distance of about twenty-five miles. From Belfast to Carrickfergus by railroad, j the scenery is varied. On the right, large plateaus of land, which are covered once in every twenty-four hours by the tide, are seen. Thousands of hungry sea-gulls are seen Hying about in all directions, and occasionally an old boat lying in the mud. Those portions of land which are covered by the rising tide, to me present a peculiarly desolate appearance. On the left, which is west of the railroad, the scenery is refreshing. The country is in a fair state of cultivation and the inhabitants seem to be in a thriving condition. On the railroad, as we Americans say, there are several "depot-towns," and two?White House and White Abbey?of considerable size and importance. The population of White Abbey issomething more than twelve hundred, and that of White House, a little less. Carrickfergus, the population of which, including Townland, at present, is about or a little more than, ten thousand, is one of the oldest towns in Ireland, and around it cluster 1 a great many interesting facts in the histo- J ry of the island. The population of the municipal town or of the town proper, is near four thousand five hundred. The town stretches along the shore ot the lake about a mile. In the centre is the old walled town and on the east there is what is called the Scotch quarter, and on the west the Irish quarter. The Scotch are chiefiy engaged in fishing. About six hundred s of the population are Catholics. Of the 1.' rest, nearly two thirds are Presbyterians, s Like some othertowns, and not unlike mul- t titudes of men, Carrickfergus is noted not j, so much for what it is, but for what it once , was; and not so much on account of what ^ it was, as for the events that took place in I and around it. c The name Carrickfergus is derived or I rnthnr nnmnnunHerl of onrrin whieh means r a rock, nncf Feargm, one of the ancient kings of Ireland, who, according to Irish ^ legendary history, lived several hundred ' years prior to the Christian era. Feargus t was a noted character in his day. He was t lost in a storm off the rock bound coast of r his dominions. The eastle from which the . town and barony taKe their name, is said * to have been er^bted by the celebrated J John DeCourcy. Henry the Second, in 1182, 1 gave DeCourcy all of l ister, Ireland which f he could conquer with his sword. The cas- r tie passed into the possession of the DeLa- f cy family. r For some time the illustrious liobert t Bruce, King of Scotland, lived in Carrick- e fergus castle. It is going to ruin. Only e some parts of it are in a good state of preser- v vation. There is still an arsenal maintain- ^ ed, but it is a strong hold only, a shadow of , what it must once have been. The "keep," [as it is called, is ninety feet high. r Carrickfergus has passed through many j and severe trials. It was beset by enemies j. on all sides. The Scots were troublesome, v and its neighboring Irish Chiefs gave-it c little rest. In 1386, it was burned down by e the Scots, and four years afterward pillaged s and destroyed by the united forces of the Irish and Scots. During the reign of r Charles the First, in whose character, as s well as in that of his father and his sons, t there was a combination of variety and t meanness, of treachery and cruelty, which ? no words will describe. Many persecuted }] Scotchmen fled from their native land and { settled in and near Carrickfergus. s In Carrickfergus, on the 10th of June, 1642, j as previously stated in these sketches, the j first presbytery in Ireland was organized, f This fact, in the eyes of the Presbyterian c nnnnlation of Ireland, throws around the ( old town of Carrickfergus a halo of glory. ^ In the same transactions, ninety nine hun- ] dredths of the population of upper South x Carolina are interested. No matter what [ may be their present ecclesiastical connec- 8 tions, their ancestors were all Scotch-Irish Presbyterians. f There is another fact which took place, that t every well-informed Protestant Irishman t seemsto know intuitively, or to have learned t it at a very early period. It is the landing c of William, the Prince of Orange, or Wil- , liam the Third. It was on the 14th of June, \ 1GIX). The very stone on which his royal j majesty put his foot when he first landed, is 8 still shown to every visitor. t The Chichesters, at least some of them, j had their residences in and near the town g of Carrickfergus. Sir Arthur Chichester, j whom, in 160"), James I. made lord-lieuten- s ant, is buried in the Old St. Nicholas Church, t at Carrickfergus. The inscription on the c monumental stone begins thus: "Sacred to <. God and Eternal Memorie, Sir Arthur Chi- t Chester, Baron of Belfast, Lo. High Treas- t urer of Ireland, Governor of this towne." , Carrickfergus was once the scene of bloody t deeds. In 1507, Sir John Chichester was j waylaid and captured by one James Sorley [ ^acDonnell. On a rock near by, MacDon- ( nell beheaded his prisoner. An etfigy of Sir c John was executed and placed in the Old St. t Nicholas church. Some time afterward, as I ^ the story goes, MacDonnell visited the St. I c f>hiir/*h nncl 4j*>pincr flip pHbrv of Sir i A1JVI1V1MU d%/ ? -- I John Chichester there among the rest, he c exclaimed, in utter astonishment, "IIow the t de'il did he earn to get his head again, for I t am sure he had onesta'en off frae him." The last time, so far as I now remember, t that Carrickfergus was attacked by an ene- N my, was in 1700, by Commodore Thurot. r With a strong fleet he appeared before the t town which he found but poorly prepared to j t make a successful defence. On the 24th of j February he landed about seven hundred ! men. The town and garrison in the castle! made some defence, but soon surrendered. | Thurot remained for a few days, when he : embarked just in time to escape capture by ! an English fleet. An incident occurred on the eve of the I engagement of the two armies, which is; worthy of being kept in "eternal memorie." ! As the French troops were marching up the street to begin the attack, and just before the firing became general, a little child, a son of John Seeds, the sheriff, ran out of a house and stopped between the two armies. This being observed by D'Esterre, the officer in command of'the advance division, he ran to the child, took it up and carried it to the door of the house from which it had come out, and handing it to the father, returned to his command and began the attack, or rather resumed the fight. This noble man fell in the engagement regretted by friend and foe. Specific Advektising.?"I always make j it a point," said a wide-awake merchant, i "to be specific and direct in my advertise- j ments. I do not generalize, but select the j goods I wish to sell at a particular time, and r in a plain, terse manner, call public atten- 1 tion to them. I do not in a general way J advertise my goods, but in a special way a call attention from week to week to some i line or department, and when this has been ! t done I then change to another line, and con- j J tinue changing from one department to an-; 1 other until all my stock has, in a direct spe-j n cial manner, been placed before the public, t "My experience has convinced me that if h advertisers would pay strict attention to the 1; advertisements they insert in the news-j p papers, change them often and keep them , J fresh and new, it would pay them better j p than to let one run from week' to week i e without alteration until it becomes stale and j r unprofitable." s The good sense of the "wide-awake mer- C chant" will be at once realized, if we con- fi sider the fact that the ordinary advertise-1 n ments of local merchants are very stereo-1 1 typed in form, and about alike. In most! e cases the dry-goods merchant, for example,; n simply states that he has a large stock of j I dry-goods, or, going more into detail, that; ii lie' has a line of such and such kinds of h goods. This is not specific enough to at- i t tract the buyer to patronize one merchant e rather than another. We think that country i t; > i,i ??,i Iliuri'jlltlllft WWUIU HUM 11 juwumwiv iw nu?-i % tsite the large retail dry-goods houses of t: New York city. The examination of one of | v the issues of the Sunday Herald, for instance, ' 1 will show a large number of advertise- j t< merits, many of a column or more in length, j e written in a* running conversational style? 11 about, in fact, as an intimate friend mighti n take you through his store, making com-' f( mentsas to styles, prices, amount of stock, I v etc., etc. The result is, that the advertise- e merits are interesting even to those who i h have no intention of buying. 1 g The ladies read these advertisements, and : l> by comparing the prices, assortments and ! ? styles know just where to go to get just, r< what they wish. These are published at a ' p great expense to the dealers, but they bring j g a correspondingly large return, and are, j n therefore, paying investments. Of this there! a can be no question, as these houses continue j p to advertise, week after week, which, ot; t< course, they would not do if they did not ti find it profitable. Iti no other way is it tl possible for them to reach such a large num- 1 her of people promptly and in a manner g which will insure the advertisement being A read. C Trying to do business without advertising b is like attempting to untie a "hard knot" c< with a pair of buck-skin gloves on the t< hands.?.Vc/r England Grocer. d ^Uscellanrous ftradmg. THE BAGPIPE. ITS MARVELOUS INFLUENCE OVER THE HIGHLAND SOLDIER. The only musical instrument that can be J aid to be distinctively national is the Ilightnd bagpipe. Violin, flute, and other intruments are common to many nations, but he bagpipe is peculiar to Scotland, and if t does not now occupy the position it once iid it is to be found in no other country, n the days when the notorious Hob Hoy ommitted his depredations, when the Vich an Vhors lived securely in their Highland astnesses, and kept up their dignified social losition?in the stirring times which Sir Valter Scott has so inimitably depictedhe bagpipe-player was one of the imporant personages in the chieftain's "tail" or etinue, and these may be considered as the >almy days of the instrument. Within the egion more correctly known as the Highands its shrill note was the first sound that ell on the ears of infantry; it charmed the ude Caledonians in times of joy and comorted them in scenes of mourning; it aninated their heroes in battle and welcomed hem back from their conflicts; and wherever their chief went it accompanied them, ven to the grave. The effect which this vild instrument has on the Highland solliers is marvelous. Above the rattle of nusketry and the turmoil and noise of the >attle-field the inspiring notes of the pi finch have spoken encouragement to the Iighlariders and led them bravely forward. Vt the battle of Quebec, when the troops vere retreating in disorder, and when the onflict had a discouraging aspect, the Genral complained of the bad conduct ofFraer's corps. "Sir," said the officer, "you lid very wrong in forbidding the pipers to day. Nothing inspirits the Highlanders o much. Even now they would be of some ise." "Let them blow in God's name, hen," said the General. The order being ;iven, the pipers started an old, well-known tho Hinrhlondnra rulliprl t<?rpt.hpr_ find ill , nigiimiiuviu ?-o~ J )ravely returned to the charge. Many intances of the remarkable effect of this pecuiar musical instrument might be adduced, t has stimulated the Highlanders on the ield of Assaye; it has led them on the heights >f Alma; cheered them at the uncongenial iold Coast; encouraged them on their march's through the Afghanistan mountains and Egyptian sands; accompanied them to South Vfrica, and to whatever part of the world luty has called them to fight with valor ind defend their country with honor. The bagpipe?or rather the pipe of some orm or other?is an instrument of great aniquity: It was known to the Trojans, and he ancient Egyptians and Greeks were faniliar with it. There are references frejuently to piping in the Bibie; Theocritus nentions it and according to Procopius its nspiriting strains led the Roman warriors nto the field of battle. On the reverse of i coin of the Emperor Nero?said himself o have been a performer on the instrunent?something like a bagpipe is repreiented. It was, it has been stated, included n the band of the Grand Ecurie at Paris, md was played at court concerts in the time >f Louis XIV. At the end of the fifteenth entury it seems to have become popular in Scotland, but what the precise form of he instrument then was is not known, some say that it was derived from the ltonans, while others are of opinion that it ame through the northern nations to Scotand. At any rate it seems to have always iceii one of the musical instruments of the Celtic race. The pipe mentioned in anient historv was simulv what is known as he shepherd's reed. After a time a bag vas added, and subsequently the drones >r burdens. There are now four forms of he modern bagpipe in this country?the rreat Highland bagpipe, which is blown by he player, the drones being placed over he shoulders; the Lowland bagpipe, which s provided with a bellows for supplying he wind; the Northumberland bagpipe, vhich is smaller and sweeter than the forner two, and the Irish bagpipe, which is a nuch more complicated instrument than he others.?London Standard. ^ JOHN HILL. Fx-Congressman John Hill, who will be | emembered as the Father of the Cheait >ostage bill, died at his home in Boonton, J orris county, N. J., July 24th, 1884, at the ge of (?4. lie was born in Catskill, N. Y.,! n 1821, and in about 1844 he settled in Boon- j on, and was elected from there to the State j Assembly in 1861?'62, and again in 1866. Hiring the latter term he served as Speaker ! f the House. He was elected to the For-J ieth, Forty-first and Forty-second Congress,! lis last term ending 1888. He was frequent- j y mentioned in connection with the Be-1 iublican Gubernatorial nomination in New ! ersey, and was considered the foremost Be- j ublican in the State. Mr. Hill was inter-; sted in postal reform and the question of j educing postage for many years, and about ixteen years ago, when he first entered 'ongress, he introduced a bill to abolish the I ranking privilege, and after two years or aore of hard work it was accomplished. \ Uiout the same time he introduced the oneen t postal card bill, and after two years or nore it was passed, against much opposition, j n his remarks on tliose bills at that time, j n Atiril lViT'> ho a/1 vrwntprl il ro/1 iift.inn in jtter postage, considering the abolition of he franking privilege and adopting the one- i ent postal card the stepping stone to reduc- j ion in letter postage. After the. organiza-1 ion of the House in December, 1881, he in-; roduced his two-cent postage bill, which ; ras referred to the Post Office and Post j toad Committee, who delayed reporting it j i) the House during the first session. Hei ailed the attention of the House to the bill,, lade several speeches on the subject, and lade every effort to get it before the House ir consideration. In November, 1882, he ,-ent to Washington to see Postmaster-Gen-j ral Howe and brought the matter before im. He also called on the President in re-! ard to the matter, and found him lavora-! ly disposed toward the measure, and in his j lessage to Congress a few weeks later he [ commended the reduction of the letter! ostnge. Shortly after the meeting of Con-! ress in December, Mr. Hill saw the chair-; lan of the sub-committee of the Appropri-1 tion Committee on the Post Office Appro- i nation bill. On Wednesday morning, af-! ,?r the third day, the latter offered a resolu-1 on asking permission of the House to place i le two-cent postage stamp measure in the' 'ost Office Appropriation bill, which was ranted, and on the next day the Post Office appropriation bill was reported from the ommittee in the House, printed and rought before the House in a few days for nnsideration. A great many amendments ) it were offered, but after*a long and teious tight over this clause, it passed, and finally the whole bill passed, and, after a long and bitter opposition in the Senate, passed that body on Friday, the day after the re- J port of the Post Office Appropriation bill to the House containing the two-cent postage clause. Mr. Hill received many letters thanking him for his interest in the matter, J' and also from associations and public bodies r with resolutions of thanks. 1 * i a WHY THE WIND CHANGES. !s That the changing of the direction of the j * wind is due to the shiting of the situation I' of the greatest heat upon the earth is sub- r stantially proved by the fact that, in certain regions of the earth's surface, where the greatest heat and cold do not alter the , direction in which they lie to each other, the wind does not change, but always blows in the same direction from one day to an- i and all thn war rniinfl Thiq fif'Plirs in the great open space of the ocean, where there is no land to get heated up by the sunshine of the day and to get cool by the , scattering of the heat at night. In those spaces lor a vast breadth of many hundred j miles the sun shines down day after day upon the surface of the sea, heating the ' f water most along the mid-ocean track, ) which lies most immediately beneath its . burning rays as it passes though from east . to west. This inidwav track of the strongest sun- . shine crosses the wide ocean as a belt or/.one, j. that spreads some way to either side of the equator. Throughout this midway track the cooler and heavier air drifts in from the ) north and from the south and then rises up . as it becomes heated by the sun, where the ' currents meet. In both instances however, in consequence of the spinning round of the . earth, the advancing wind acquires a westward as well as an equatorial drift. The air current as it approaches the midway equatorial zone, where the onward movement of the sea-covered surface of the, earth is performed with the velocity of a |} thousand miles an hour, does not immedi-! ately acquire this full rate of speed, and lags | back upon the ocean. So that itappearsas a j, drift toward the west as well as toward the |' equator. j On the north side of the equator the wind , blows all the year round from the northeast , and on the south side from the southeast, > both in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. These steady and unchanging ocean winds are called the trade winds on,account of j the great service they render to ships car-!' rying merchandise across these portions of the sea. In sailing from England to the , Cape of Good Hope, through the entire ] length of the Atlantic Ocean, ships before , they reach the equator, have to pass over a broad space where strong winds are constantly blowing from the northeast. That is the region of the northeast trades. They then traverse a space near to the equator , itself, where the northeast wind ceases to ; blow, and where the air is very still and , calm, and they afterwards come to a region ; south of the equator, where strong winds , are continually blowing from the southeast. , That is the region of the southeast trades.? ] CasseWs Magazine. 11 Randolph's Stormy Death.?The last days of John Randolph, of Roanoke, are full of pathos. He thought he was dying for years before he did so, and when he was asked how he was he would reply: "Dying! dying! dying!" IJe was tyrannical \ and dictatorial to the last, and he fought < with his doctor on his death-bed over the pronunciation of certain words. His death > occurred in a Philadelphia hotel. A few minutes before he died the doctor wanted to leave him, but Randolph objected and his slave took the key, locked the door and put the key in his pocket. With his last words Randolph declared that he wanted his slaves freed, and he kept the doctor there as a witness of his dying declaration. A sceptic through life, he appreciated his condition when on his death-bed, and among < his last words was "remorse." He was lying < perfectly quiet, with his eyes closed, wnen i he suddenly roused up and screamed out in an agitated voice: "Remorse! remorse! remorse!" He then cried out: "Let me see the word ! Get a dictionary! Let me see the word!" There was no dictionary at < hand, and he was told so. He exclaimed : j "Write it, then ! Let me see the word!" i The doctor picked up one of his cards label- i led "Randolph, of Roanoke." "Shall I i write it on this?" "Yes; nothing more proper," was Randolph's reply. The word < remorse was written on it in pencil and i handed to him. lie looked at it a moment I with great intensity. "Write it on the ] back," he exclaimed It was done and i handed him again. He looked at it with { his blazing eyes. "Remorse!" he said, I "you can have no idea of it whatever; it j has brought me to my present situation? ( but I have looked to Jesus Christ and I ( hope to obtain pardon." He then asked t the doctor to draw a line under the word and told him to keep the card. i A short time after this his keen eye began i to dull, his powerful mind gave way, and r within two hours he died. t Facts About Casabianca.?Few but \ know the pretty piece of poetry by Mrs. \ Hemans, "Casabianca," commencing, "The , boy stood on the burning deck." The poet- J ess states that the lad was the son of the ad- \ miral commanding the flagship L'Orient, ? which took tire and exploded; that young ( Casabianca perished in the explosion, re- \ fusing to quitthe position allotted to him by c his father, pending the battle of the Nile. I have been looking into the official account ? of the incident. The admiral was Brueys, ^ who was wounded in the head and hand ear- ( !y in the action. He continued to give orders until cut in two by a cannon ball; he [ uttered the request to be allowed to expire j on deck, which he did in the course of some t minutes. Citoyen Casabianca, the father of j the poetic hero then took command ; his son , was a middy, but only aged 10, not 10. At g that period lads entered the navy very ^ young. Casabianca was also a deputy. ? Fending the action his son was at his side; the father was mortally wounded in the | head by a splinter and became insensible; . he gave no injunctions to hisson, but the lat- ( ter would none the less quit his wounded i parent. By this time the ship was on tire, j Several of the sailors had left and saved t thf>in?<>lvps on soars, till nicked un bv the , English boats. Aided by the purser, young I } Casabianca and his father were lowered ( down on a piece of mast floating by, but f they had only got a short distance from the } \ 120 gun, Orient, when she blew up, and noth-: t ing more was seen of the C'asabiancas. s j&fcg"-General Patrick Cleburne was one of * the most gallant and dashing Confederate U generals in the west, lie was an Irishman | ^ by birth, and rose to eminence by native L merit. During the winter of when ! j the western Confederate army lay at Dalton, I in Ga., and the fortunes of the Confederacy I \ were seen to be waning, Gen. Cleburne, it is 1 now developed by letters recently discover- ^ ed, procured a meeting of leadingcommand- .ers, among them Generals Hardee, Cheat-1' ham, Ilindman, Stewart, Walker, Bate and I c Patten Anderson, to whom he proposed | \ that they should join in a memorial to the j " Confederate congress asking for the itnme-> diate emancipation of the slaves and the j j drafting of all able bodied colored men into j v the Confederate armies. , The lettersshow that this proposition was j . very badly received. It got no support j from prominent officers. It was condemn- ] ed at Richmond, and those who knew of it v were warned to keep the secret, which they i did. Gen. Cleburne destroyed the paper Y containing the arguments for his proposi- t tion and the points of this paper were only (] saved by the care of one of his stall' officers. v } &aT The righteous sometimes suffer tern- f( poral calamities with the wicked, but never c are they punished on account of the wicked. |i On the other hand, the wicked enjoy many j and great blessings on account of the righteous. "Were it not for the righteous the world would not remain for an hour. God would rain upon it tire and brimstone. The 1 prayers of God's people are the pillars that a hold up the fair fabric of the universe. I n THE RIDDLES OF NATURE. I EM A It K A RLE FACTS CONCERNING BEASTS, BIRDS AND INSECTS. Chickens, two minutes after they have eft the egg, will follow with their eyes the novements of crawling insects and peck at hem, judging distance and direction with, .lmost infallible accuracy. They will intinctively appreciate sounds, readily runling toward an invisible hen hidden in i box when they hear her "call." Some roung birds also have an innate instinctive lorror of the sight of a hawk and of the ouncl of its voice. Swallows, titmice, tornits and wrens, after having been confined roin birth, are capable of flying successfully it once, when liberated on their wings, havng attained the necessary growth to render light possible. The duke of Argyl relates iome very interesting particulars about the nstincts of birds, especially of the water >usel, the merganser and the wild duck. Even as to the class of beasts I find recordid: "Five young polecats were found com'ortably imbedded in dry, withered grass, md in a side hole of proper dimensions for such a larder were forty frogs and two toads, ill alive, but merely capable of sprawling a ittle. On examination the whole number, ;oads and all, proved to have been purposey and dexterously bitten through the jrain." Evidently the parent polecat had :hus provided the young with food which ,*ould be kept perfectly fresh, because alive, ind yet was rendered quite unable to escape. Fhis singular instinct is like others which ire yet more fully developed among insects?a class of animals the instinctsr of vhich are so numerous, wonderful and no:orious that it will be probably enough to -efer to one or two examples. The female carpenter bee, in order to protect her eggs, i.xcavates, in some piece of wood, a series of jhambers, in special order, with a view to i peculiar mode of exit for her young; but the young mother can have no conscious knowledge of the series of actions subsejuently to ensue. The female of the wasp, sphex, affords another well known, but very remarkable example of a complex instinct closely related to that already mentioned in the case of the polecat. The female wasp lias to provide fresh, living animal food for tier progeny, wnicn, wnen it quits its eggs, juits it in the form of an almost helpless jrub, utterly unable to catch, retain or kill in active struggling prey. Accordingly the mother insect has not Dnly to provide and place beside her eggs suitable living prey, but so to treat it that it may be a helpless, unresisting victim. That victim may be a mere caterpillar, or it may be a great powerful grasshopper, or even that most fierce, active and rapacious af insect tyrants, a fell and venomous spider. Whichever it may be, the wasp adroitly stings it at the spot which induces, or in the several spots which induce, complete paralysis as to motion, let us hope as to sensation also. This done, the wasp entombs the helpless being with its own egg, and leaves it for the support of the future ?rub.?Fortnightly Review. PAGAN IN I. UOIV THE GREAT VIOLINIST MANIPULATED IlIS INSTRUMENT. How did Paganini play? Now like an angel, now like a demon with his tail in a closed door. He played like the very devil himself?never like a mortal man. Such sounds assuredly have never yet been drawn from a violin. The only thing that sounded like them was pulling a cat by the hind leg from under an ash barrel. In fact, they were no real violin sounds; they sounded, like the roaring of the storm, like the surging of tiie sea, like a chronic snorer with his nose congested, like a brakeman on the elevated railroad with a cold in his head, like the ringing of a trombone, like the thunder of a fat man with a deep voice whose suspender buttons flew off, like the chimes of a dinner bell, or the sound of a bird, like the anguish and despair of a man, like moaning and singing and whining and weeping. And when the G string wailed, then tears ?ame through the eyes from the listening hearts of men, tears of sadness and delight, real salt and water tears as big as Texas pecan nuts?none of your artificial tears gotten up to deceive the public. His performance had the effect of flashes )f lightning in a dark night. He was as full of elecricity as a black cat that is rubi)od the wrong way of the fur. While he played, a nervous tremor went through his whole frame, shaking, thin and spectre-like is it was, and from Ids gloomy eyes there lashed a deeply-seated, raging fire, such as s some times seen in the eyes of an editor )n whom the bar-keeper'shoved off a bad juarter. With the last stroke of the bow he player sank completely exhausted. His technique was the purest chromatic oulades, his wonderfully clear intonation, >ven in humorous bizarreries, excited the istonishment of people who were engaged in he manufacture of bizarreries and knew dl about them. His broken accords across dl the four strings, from the lowest depths o the giddiest heights, could not be distin juished from the noise maue oy a noy runling a stick along a picket fence. His rap(1 octave playing upon the G string, his iilvery chime of bells, his fortissimo, which lrowned the whole of the orchestra, folowed immediately by the sweetest, most harming pianissimo, can only he compar>d to the loud voice of a woman who is icolding her boy for tearing his pants, and iuddenly hears the voice of her pastor at he door asking if she was in. All this was inconceivable or incomprelensible, and, therefore, also indescribable. Even the best violinists of Berlin shook heir heads and said: "We do notcqpiprelend it; that is superhuman. If we had lot heard and seen this performance we ihould not believe it." And yet Paganini lied a natural death. lie was never even (hot at.?Texas Si/tings. 4. ? ? Average Cost of Living.?How many lersons have even a rough idea of the av:ruge sum upon which by far the larger >art of the citizens of the United States are ed, clothed and housed ? A recent statisti:ian estimates that eighty per cent, of the >opulation of this country is supported by rom forty-five to fifty cents per capita a lay. At the latter figure this makes $164.25 is the annual average cost of living; but as >y the average we mean the balance beween extremes, there must be many perons who have not even this sum to live upm. That fifty cents a day is a generous esimate will be admitted when it is remem>ered that many mill operatives earn only rom five to seven dollars a week,, and that he wages of farm hands run from twenty o thirty dollars a month, and that on these urns several persons are often supported. kVhen it is remembered, too, that other mman beings have a yearly income equal o what is necessary for the subsistence of >00 or 1,000 of these "average" mortals, the tartling contrast between the extremes of >ur modern society must be most evident.? Philadelphia Bulletin. Don't Expect to Find a Sheriff in Ikaven.?Henry Ward Beecher: When I vas quartered as pastor at Indianapolis, in ny early days in the ministry, a celebrated ireacher came there, a Geneva divine, who laterally spoke English with variations, t was in the year 1S37, in which the country vas covered with ruin, and the homes and iroperty of half the citizens of Indianapolis vere in the sheriff's hands. One Sunday he oak my pulpit, and wound up a thrilling liscourse with the tender peroration : "If ou will bear with resignation and fortitude he misfortunes which have fallen on you or a brief time here below, the time will ome when you will be borne up aloft to a leavenlv land by the Cherubim and Sherflini." "Oh !" groaned a voice, "are we to indthem there, too?" AST "Circumstances alter cases; but I wish could get hold of some cases that would Iter my circumstances," said Lord Broughnan, when he was a struggling lawyer.