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' lewis m. g-rist, proprietor. | lit |nkjjtitkiif ^amHg ^ttfospajjcr: Jor % ^romofioit of % political, Serial, Ijrimllaral anb Commtrrial $ntmsfs of % So?% |terms?$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 31. YORKVILLE, S C., THURSDAY, APRIL 23, 1885. NO. 17. M Original ftor|. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. A RASH EXPERIMENT. BY MISS M. LEE. CHAPTER X. I have said that Elizabeth tried her best to sleep; but she did not succeed. I put it to any of my feminine readerswould they, in her place, have succeeded? Here was a legitimate opportunity for gratifying a consuming and long-checked esire. Was it within the bounds of reasonable expectation that such an opportunity would be deliberately and wilfully overlooked ? The harder she tried to woo the drowsy god, the wider awake she grew. Her mental vision traversed the darkness, and penetrated the hitherto forbidden boundaries of the mysterious apartment, which she was was at liberty to enter. She thought about it until the thought became a positive tor_ ment: and at last?must it be confess ed??with a sigh at her own weakness, she rose from her pillow, slipped on her dressing robe, and struck a.light. In another moment she had crossed the threshold of the door, and stood looking vaguely around. She saw all sorts of odds and ends lying about confusedly; and her first thought was that she would go to work at the earliest opportunity and put everything to rights. "I ieally don't believe the room has been dusted once! How foolish of Harry not to let me keep it in order! No matter, it won't look this way much longer. Just see the litter on the table, and the pile of things in that corner! Books, newspapers, a pipe, a portfolio, a collar that ought to go in the wash, a hankerchief stained with ink, or some other black stuff, and?what's this? a hat?" It was certainly a hat?but what was there in that fact to blanch her face, aud bring such a startled look into her eyes ? It was a jaunty little affair, turned up at the side and fastened with a rosette; a gay feather curled around the brim; scarlet ends depended from the back; and on the paper that lined the crown inside, the nanrie "Mollie" was written in a bold masculine hand. A woman's hat, without doubt. And how had it come there ? Was it any wonder that at that moment the contents of the anonymous note, nearly v consigned to oblivion, should suddenly present themselves with fatal distinctness to her memory ? and that one especial sentence seemed to stand out in living characters before her eyes?"Ask your husbaml what lady um admitted into the room that opens on the cross-entry on Wednesday night last, at twelve o'clock?" "It is not a lady's hat," said poor Elizabeth, as she held the doubtful object in her hand. "No lady would wear such a thing? but an actress might, or a circus girl." She laid it on the table, and turning away walked with unsteady steps to her rockingchair, and sat down. Sne did not know oho folf aaIH Willi!/ 91IC bJIUUgllO Vi itaicv4 ^ oiiv ivav vviu and stupefied, and was trembling in all her limbs. Had she, then, really been deceived? Was Harry not the true and honorable man she had always believed him to be ? She crossed her arms on the table, and leaning over, hid her face upon them. She could not cry ; her eyes felt hot, and a leaden weight seemed to press on her forehead, making it ache and throb. She wondered, a vague, dull way, that she should have felt so light-hearted and happy only a few minutes before. Would she ever be happy again ? Perhaps it was because her nerves had been overwrought lately, that her discovery should alfect her so strongly; perhaps it was that a subtle illness had been for nours or days past creeping into her blood?she had once or twice felt a chilly sensation come over her?and chose just this moment to develop itself; but as she raised her head, and looked slowly around with glassy eyes, the whole room seemed suddenly to swim with her, and she lostconsciousness. When Harry came in, he found her in a burning fever, and from her incoherent talk he soon gathered what had occurred. He rushed off in a fright for the nearest physician, who came, pronounced her attack purely nervous, gave her a soothing dose, ana enjoined strict quiet lor the next twelve hours. As Harry could not go to his uncle in the morning, he dispatched a note to the hotel making his excuses, and soon afterwards Mr. Monteith answered the note in person. Elizabeth was now sleeping tranquilly; and the two gentlemen satin the next room, talking earnestly. Harry gave his uncle a full and frank account of all he had been doing, and ended by asking him if he considered that he was very much to blame. "All things counted up, I don't know that you are," replied the old gentleman. "Your first step was really the wrong one?I don't mean your marriage, but what followed it? and having got yourself into a dilemma, you were bound to work yourself out of it in the best way that you could find. And you say you have never told your wife?" "No sir?how could I? I felt sure that she would consider it a sort of disgrace?at any rate I knew it would give her a shock, and I wanted to spare her the mortification of knowing that her husband was engaged in such a profession. You know she has been very strictly brought up, and her natural prejudices would all have been against me." "I don't know whether it would not have been better to offend those prejudices, than to carry on such an uncomfortable sort of concealment," said Mr. Monteith. "It was more than uncomfortable?it was horrible," rejoined Harry. "I can't tell you, sir, how I have suffered." "You had to choose between two evils, and I presume it was hard lor you to decide which was the worst. But now do you intend to make a clean breast of it?" "I suppose I must, as soon as she recovers; in fact I*assured her that I would, when I could get another place." "The sooner the better for her peace of mind, I should say. And if you'll take my advice, nephew, you'll let the whole matter be kept a secret in future among us three. I don't know that I should care to have any outsiders learn that you had ever been in that style of business, even for a few weeks." "I assure you, sir," replied Harry, coloring deeply, "I shall be too glad to'let this episode in my life remain forever buried in oblivion." "Well," said Mr. Monteith as he rose to go, "as I have already told you, I shall be obliged to leave St. Louis to-night. You and Elizabeth can pack up and follow as soon as it suits your convenience to do so." "It will not be long before we are with you," replied Harry. "And I hope, sir, that I have sufficiently expressed my sense of your kindness, and the deep obligations T fppl?" "Nonsense," briefly said his uncle. "We'll start fair and square again, and say nothing about what's past. You've simply been on a wedding tour, and are comming back to resume your work in the bank; that is what everybody at home knows. And mind you make your wife comfortable, and let her want for nothing on the journey." With this injunction he departed, and Harry stole into the bedroom to si^ beside Elizabeth and watch for her awakening. She slept for some time longer and then awoke composed and without any sign of fever. As she saw Harry a look of pain contracted her face, and she turned away her head. "Elizabeth, my own darling," he said tenderly as he bent over her, "I have something very particular to say to you as soon as I am sure you are able to hear it. Will it hurt you to listen to me now ?" She shook her head. "Then I'm going to make a confession to you, that may annoy you a little, but I am sure will relieve you of much pain. You have had hard thoughts of me lately, know." She was silent, bathe saw her lips quive "You remember I promised to tell y( all about this nightly business of mine, soon as I should be able to quit it for som thing better. Will it horrify ybu vei much to know that I have been for the la month enrolled among the burnt cork fr ternity ?" "Burntcork!" wonderingly repeated Eli abeth. "What is that?" "Don't you know? it's a term used describe the Ethiopian minstrels?th< blacken their faces and hands, and so?" "Oh, I have heard of them. I never sa them perform, she interrupted. "And you you mean to say, Harry, that you hai been one of them?" "Can you forgive me for descending : low ?" "Forgive you!?oh, Harry, if you kne what a load you have taken from my heai tfut wny?on, wny aian c you ten me u fore ?" "Why, I thought you would feel so drea fully mortified?I wanted to spare your fee ings! Of course I should never have take such an occupation if I could have four anything more respectable, but you kno how hard pressed I was." "Well, 1 sunpose it was pretty bad," sa: Elizabeth. "But I don't know much aboi these things; I have never been to any so of a theatre in my life." "Of course you understand now that I ke] my door locked because I wanted to avo] discovery, and often some little thing th: might have betrayed me would be left i sight; a part of ray dress, for instance, thi I would bring home in a hurry, and forg the next time I went out; you know ho careless and forgetful I am. Lately I wi chosen to act a female part, in the place < of one of the troupe who got leave of al sence. And now you know the secret of tl hat that you saw when you went to tl room last night. When I found that I ha forgotten to lock the door, I was enraged i myself; for though I did not mean to kee my secret much longer, I preferred revea ing in my own way." "And I thought you had left the dot open on purpose for me to go in!?ar Harry, were you the lady that came thei that night?last Wednesday night?" "What lady?" "Oh! I forgot. You don't know. Ope the little drawer of my desk, and you wi see a note, torn in two. Read it, and yc will make some excuse for my behavior 1 you lately." Harry brought the fragments to the bei side, and perused them with varying e: pressions of astonishment, anger and di gust. "Who could have dared to write this! he exclaimed. "But you, Elizabeth?sur ly you did not wrong me so far as to belie\ such a base fabrication ?" "I did not, Harry?indeed, I did not. knew it must be false; but afterwards?sue torturing thoughts kept coming?and thei was so much mystery?and last night whe I saw that horrible gaudy hat, and coul not imagine whose it was?altogether seemed too much for me; and the unce tainty, and the knowing that the perse ?- ,1^;,. wno wrote me uuie yuu vi uun wrong things, and my own helplessness ac ignorance, just broke me down. I lost m head for a little while, 1 think. If I ha been in my senses I would more clear] have seen the folly of it all." "My poor little girl! No wonder yc were wrought up to believe all sorts of evi but this note?I'd like to find out the pe son who wrote it. Of course, you have r sort of suspicion ?" "None in the world?and I hope I sha never find out. Burn it now, Harry, pleas and let us forget all about it. It shall n< do me any more harm." She watched the paper curl and blacke in the flame, and gave a long sigh of relie "Oh! I am so happy again!" she sai< "Tell me all your plans now?have you set your uncle yet ?" "Yes, he was here this morning; an he has been very friendly and generous, an wants us to go back." "I knew he would! Oh, Harry, I lii him so much." "And I can tell you that you have quii won his heart. He is a good old fellow in tl main ; but I never really knew what stu he was made of until now. I am to retui to the bank with an increase of salary; an he insisted on filling my purse, so that v have more than enough for all presei needs, and our traveling expenses beside How soon do you think you will be able i bear the journey home ?" "I can start to-day?this minute, if yc wish it," said Elizabeth gaily. "I am qui well again?I was sick from sheer miser and nothing else." "Heaven keep you from ever sufferir another moment's misery on my account, said Harry, fervently. "After this, m darling, there shall never be a secret b tween us?this experience has taught me 1 dread the idea of the slightest concealmen or any shadow of suspicion, for either i us. In my first relief at finding that I wi able to provide for our bodily needs, I ne1 er considered that I was endangering 01 menial comiori oy unueriuKiug such a nu experiment." Elizabeth in a day or two was as well j ever; and there was 110 delay in the prepan tions for the journey, which both wei equally impatient to commence. They fo lowed Mr. Monteith within a week, and c their arrival were installed by him in ti most comfortable quarters which his room establishment afforded. Here Elizabet was bidden to make herself at home; an Mr. Monteith requested that she woul thenceforth consider herself the mistress < the house, and regulate all things accordin to her pleasure. As may- be imagined, her pleasure was 1 provide with gentle kindness and conside ation, for that of others; and she soon mac herself beloved in her new sphere. As 1 Harry's uncle, he speedily became so for of her as to wonder how he could ever ha\ found his home complete without her pre ence. A few weeks after their return, 1 suggested that she should write and reque a visit from her parents. And Reuben an Prudence, filled with trepidation at tf thought of leaving home, yet unable to r sist so great a temptation as the prospei of enjoying their darling child's coin pan again, accepted the invitation. When she had been embraced by bo! of them, and cried over by Prudence, tl latter, turning to her husband, said in joyful tone? "Now thee sees, Reuben, how happy 01 Lisbeth's marriage has turned out after al in spite of the gloomy prognostications 1 those who wished to persuade us that v, had done wrong in sending her into tl world. And the world is surely not so ev as some believe! I wish Friend Simpsc could see Lisbeth in this fair home, su rounded by such comfort and encompasse with tender care." "Does thee think, Prudence," rejoint Reuben, with a twinkle of his sober gra eyes, "that the sight would afford him ui limited satisfaction?" "Yes, for we know him to be a fbdl man, and Lisbeth's true well-wisher; sur ly he feels no resentment against her b< cause of her inability to conform to h wishes." "Doubtless he has forgiven her; yet hardly think he would en jot/ seeing hi in her present position," said Reuben s I riously. "But as for ourselves, we ha\ I much to be thankful for, in the child's pro perity; and I think Lisbeth has too wel I r _i ?- -i . ?1- 1 J. ~ c uaianceu a iiiiiiu 10 hisb mgm ui mc puia pies we strove to inculcate while she wi under our training, even though her nioc of practicing them be a little less sober thu our own." "She has too good a heart, as I think, evi to be spoiled by prosperity; and too miu sense to give heed to the llattery of tl world," said the fond mother. So well eoi tent were the old people with all the ci cumstanees of their visit, that their daug! ter tried to coax them to leave their presei residence and settle in her neighborhoot I but old ties and old habits were too strong to be broken, and they preferred continuing r. ' in the home which was endeared to them >u i by long association, and in the society of the as peaceful fraternity to which they belonged, e-; Elizabeth's life was one of continued hapry 1 piness. Harry, true to his resolution, nevei st had another secret frotn her; he never a- again, in fact, was placed in such a situation as to render concealment desirable, and z- their intercourse with each other remained as frank and unclouded as such intercourse to should always be, to ensure true confidence jy and perfect happiness in wedded life. In due time Harry became his uncle's w successor ; and to see him now, as he walks ? in a dignified manner down the street, nc one, looking at his portly figure in its broadplnfh suit, his trnlrt-hpndpd CflnP. lliS GTOld 30 rimmed spectacles, and the stately way in which he responds to the greetings of his w numerous friends, would believe that this t. respectable, wealthy and influential elderly e- gentleman had ever, in his youthful days, perpetrated the atrocity of appearing before d- the public as one of a negro minstrel ;1- troupe. ;n [the end.] id ' I p0trsiDfIraveli?^uto|ic. ? ~ OBSERVATIONS ON IRELAND. pt [d by rev. r. lathan. at In [Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.] at About six Irish miles north-west of Ballyet carry, at the head of Lame Lough is the vv old town Lame. The population is nearly three thousand five hundred. It is connected with Ballymena on the west and ie Belfast on the south by railroad, and carries le on considerable trfflac with England and id | Scotland. Boats run between London, at Liverpool, Fleetwood, Glasgow and vari!D ous other ports, both in England and Scot,1 land, and Lame. Between several of these ports, perhaps all of them, and Larne steam3r boats run every night. Very large quantiid ties of lime are shipped from Larne to Ayr re shire, Scotland. This lime is mainly used for agricultural purposes. Here it may be remarked that the farmers of the British ;n Isles devote more attention to making man11 ure than the farmers of America do. With >u the farmers of England, Ireland and Scotto land manure making is the business. They use large quantities of lime; we, as a rule, I- use very little lime. This is strictly true k- with regard to Southern farmers. In lres land?and the same is true oflkigland and Scotland?nothing is planted or sown with!" out the ground being first thoroughly mane ured. The manuring is not done, as it re is most frequently done in our southern country, by dropping down a small handI ful of manure in the hill or by scattering it ,'h sparingly in the drill, but it is always re spread broad cast over the ground so thick m that the ground is literally covered by it. Id Not only are the fields designed to be plantit ed in oats, flax, turnips, potatoes and other r- crops manured broad cast, but the pasture >n fields are manured. This system of manig uring has been in practice for several hunid dred years. The result is that the soil is ly made permanently rich. Land, which in id some cases was naturally poor, has, by this ly long continued process of thorough manuring, been made so rich that it may be com>u pared to those places in our country on I! which hogs or cows have been penned for r- years. In fact, I was told that sometimes 10 the land is made too rich to be productive and requires to be tempered with poor soil. 11 In Ireland a manure heap is a part and e, parcel of every well conducted farm. From 3t the low marshy places the farmers haul muck, and having placed it in some convetn nient place, it is mixed with lime. This is (f. allowed to remain until it is thoroughly deL composed, then it is hauled out into the m fields and scattered. Lime is scattered broadcast over the fields on which the crops id are growing. So far as I now remember, the id practice of scattering pure lime, or lime unmixed with muck, is confined to potato :e fields on which it is designed to sow oats after the potato crop is gathered. I frete quently saw potato fields covered so comle pletely with lime that they presented the ff same appearance as if covered with snow, n Lime is sometimes sown over the pasture id fields. I think this is done in early spring. ,'e The cost of lime at the kiln, in Ireland, is it about the same that it is in our country. I s. do not think that our ridge lands would bear to the heavy applications of lime that are made by Irish farmers, and it would prove of no >u avail if applied to old worn out land, in te which there is no vegetable matter. But I y am not writing an essay on agriculture. At one time in the world's history, Lame ig was a place of perhaps more note than it is at present. On the extreme point of a narly row peninsula, which, because of itsreseme blaneeto a sickle, is called Carran-Carran, to bein"1 the Irish word for sickle or reap-hook, t, are the remains of Olderfleet Castle. It was of at this place that Edward Bruce, the brothis er of the celebrated Robert Bruce, King of v- Scotland, landed. This was in 1315. Edar i ward the Second was King of England. Ire?h | land was in a wretched condition, and Scot! land was not much, if any, better. As an is evidence of this, it may be stated that by an a- act of Parliament, held at Kilkenny, in 1309, re the murder of an Irishman was not punish>1 able bylaw, and the defaming of an Irish in woman was declared no crime. After the ie battle of Bannockburn, which was fought y on the 24th of June, 1314, the Irish invited ;h i Robert Bruce to become their King. Many id ! reasons were urged why this step should be d I taken. The similarity of the manner and of customs of the Scotch and Irish, their comig j mon lineage and language, and the fact that both were harrassed by England, seemed to to j indicate the wisdom of the movement. So r-1 it appeared to Robert Bruce, and to show le his interest in poor down-trodden Ireland, to I he sent his brother Edward with an army of id j six thousand men to assist in the deliver<e ance of the Irish from English rule. Eds' j ward Bruce, with his six thousand men, ie j landed at Larne, or rather at Olderfleet Casst j tie, near Larne, in May, 1315. The Irish id ' flocked to his standard, and he began in ie earnest, the work of devastation. The Earl e- of Ulster was defeated and many of the ct; English noble slain in a battle which was y fought soon after the landing of Bruce. j Carriekfergus was next attacked. Being ;h i strongly fortified and well garrisoned its 1*T Kr* K\t cinnrn IC Ull'KllC LUUIU UII1J uw -y uiv^v> a Lord Mandeville was in command of the : garrison. Many deeds of daring valor were ir i perlormed, both by the besieged and besieg1, j ers. Prominent among these may be nooi tieed the heroism of one Xeill Fleming, the e commander of a Scotch guard of sixty men. le At a time when the commander of the beil siegers seems to have been apprehending no in danger, Lord Mandeville led his forces out r- to attack them. Xeill Fleming and his id | guard ot sixty men, were the only persons in the Scotch army prepared for battle. The id troops led by Mandeville were desperate. iy | Fleming saw that the Scotch army was like11 j ly to be surprised and routed unless sotnei thing desperate was done. He promptly ly sent a messenger to Edward Bruce to warn e- him of the impending danger, and threw e- himself and his guard in front of the advanis | cing forces of Mandeville. As the forces of the besieged, made desperate by hunger, 1 advanced,Xeill Fleming shouted to his men, ?r "Xow let them see how we can die for our e- lord." The desperate courage of Fleming e and his sixty men stopped, lor a time, the s- forces of Mandevilie. But sixty men could I- not stand long before thousands. They were i- cut to pieces. Not one survived. Mande[\s vilie now divided his forces, hoping to be le able to surround the Scotch troops. But in Bruce, warned by Fleming, was ready to meet them. The two armies met, led by er Bruce and Mandeville. Not only so, but h the two leaders met face to face. In front le of Bruce was one (iilbert Harper, a man of II- great muscular power and tried valor. As r- the two parties neared each other, Harper h- saw Mandeville,whom he knew by his dress, at Regardless of consequences, he rushed fu1; riously on Mandeville, surrounded as he was, by his body guard, and with one blov of his battle-axe laid him on the ground Bruce, who was in the thickest of the fray dispatched him with his knife. The Eng lisli, when they learned that their command er was killed, fled back toward the castle but only a few reached that point. After a close siege for a long time the gar rison agreed to surrender on a certain day [ When the day arrived, Bruce sent thirty I men to take the castle according to the stip ! illation. Tne garrison naci, in tne mean ! time, changed their mind and determined to hold the castle to the bitter end. To en i able them to effect this purpose, they retain i ed as prisoners the thirty Scotchmen sent t( i receive the surrender of the castle. Thes< prisoners they afterwards eat. But not withstanding this they at last surrendered i and Bruce placed a garrison in the castle j Edward Bruce, after having overrun a larg< i part of the north of Ireland, was killed bj a man by the name of John Mamphus, neai , Dundalk, in Louth county. s East, or rather south-east of Larne is Is [ land Magee. This is not an Island, but ? Eeninsula. It is a strange piece of land arne Lough, which is wedge-shaped, the i sharp point being about opposite Bally car^ seems to have, atrsome time, slipped in be tween Island Magee and the other part o Antrim county. The peninsula is, perhaps ten miles long and at its widest point twc miles broad. The inhabitants are generally Scotch. They are remarkable for their law abiding character and their kindness tc each other. On the peninsula of Islanc Magee there are two Presbyterian churches each having a pastor. This suggests a faci which I may as well mention here as else^ i where. It is this: In Scotland and in Ire . land, and I suppose in England, too, the system of one man being pastor of twc or three or four congregations has no exis tence. It is not known. In this we Amer1 icans may, if we will, learn an important I lesson from the Scotch and Irish, i In connection with Island Magee there are some historic incidents which may be interesting to the general reader. At the peninsula, that is at the northern extremi ty, is Brown's Bay. In this bay there is i large stone which is called the Hocking Stone. So nicely is it poised that a child is able to give to it a rocking motion, but sc firmly is it fixed in its place that, in the language of an Irishman, "Fifty horses car move it no more than a child." Brown's Bay was named in honor, or ir commemoration, or in simple remembrance of a clan of witches by the name of Brown who, in the olden time, were wont to cele i brate their nocturnal orgies there. The reader will remember that, according tc tradition, there were once witches in Ire land. In fact, according to the same au thority, there were witches in America : I suppose some persons could be found now who have, they think, seen witches and ghosts. These persons must excuse thos( ; of us who have not seen these hobgoblins i from giving credence to their declaration? until some witch presents herself to us Then, and not until then, do we propose tc believe in the existence of witches, eithei in the present or the past. i When the Brown family lived I do no) know, neither do I know thatsuch a family ever had an existence. It is possible, howi ever, that such a family once lived on oi near what is now Brown's Bay, and Thai i the female part of them were regarded a? witches. Be this as it may, about the yeai 1711 eight women living, I think, on oi near Island Magee were charged with the awful crime of bewitching one Mary Dun i bar. It is very remarkable that the actor? in all the witch tales that I ever heard were old, worn out women,'and the persons upor whom they practiced their nefarious art? were either young girls or little children If the actors were young, rosy cheeked girl? and the subjects young men just completing i their teens, witch tales would not be sc hard to believe. But to proceed with Mary Dunbar's case It seems in the month of February, 1711, she i was at the house of James Hattridge, oi: Island Magee. She was a lass of only eighteen summers. The house of James Hati tridge was thought by a number of person? to be haunted. This was not strange. Everybody has seen or heard of houses thai somebody thought were haunted. There arc i some people that have very strange thoughts Their minds are curiously constructed things. They believe without evidence and refuse to believe when the evidence i? i overwhelming. One day, while Mary Dunbar was at the house of James Hattridge she found lying on the floor an apron which had been missing for sometime. This apron was tied ug in five knots the like of which no one had ever seen before. The next day Mary Dunbar, poor thing, was suddenly attacked with a violent pain in her thigh, and not long i afterward she fell into convulsions. She | avered that she was grievously tormented by eight old women whom she describee and whom all in the community knew and believed to be witches. The old women were prosecuted and taken toCarrickfergus and in March tried and condemned. The testimony given at the time and on which the jury brought in r verdict of guilty, was that strange noises such as whistling, scratching on the house and the like were heard in and around the house of James Ilattridge. Some of the witnesses testified that they had smelled sulphur in the house. Another witness tes tified that rocks, turf and other missiles were often thrown in and around the house. An ; other witness stated that the bed-clothe.' were often taken off the bed and made up ir the likeness of a dead body. But to fix the matter beyond peradventure one witness avered that a bolster on one of the bed: leaped down from its proper place and hav; ingputona nightgown walked out of the house into the kitchen. In reference to the i extent of Mary Dunbar's affliction it was proven to the satisfaction of the jury thai she at times vomited feathers, cotton yarn pins, buttons anel the like. If she had beer in America she no doubt would have vomited lizards and snakes. On such testimony as the above eight olel women were confined in prison for twelve months and beside: subjected to the punishment of the pillory No doubt some readers are ready to saj the Irish were a greatset of fools. No doubl this is true, but no greater than the rest o i the world. In 1088, or about that time, the English Presbyterians in New England were putting people to death because the i celebrated Cotton Mather and a number o his followers believed in the existence o witches. The simple fact is, in 1088 only ti i few had the discernment to discover the I truth on this subject. The belief in witche: | is one of the natural outgrowths of Popery (; and traces of it still remain. I remembei | when a boy of hearing a good old lady telling about the daughters of one Drury Walkei 1 who lived somewhere in Fairfield county who vomited needles and pins, and whe j were accustomed to get up in the dark hours of the night and in their night clothes and barefooted walk around on the top of the pointed pales or "palings" which enclosed i the garden. The old black thorns in Ireland are regarded even by the staid Presbyterian Irish, at least by some of them, with a peculiai j feeling because of the Popish legends which J declare that around these the fairies danced, " What a glorious thing Protestantism is, 01 ; what a glorious thing the religion of the : Bible is. It frees the mind from the bondI age of superstition. Tjik Child.?It should never be forgoti ten that the child some (fay will be a free I agent. If his whole life now is strapped ! down and checked off, and labelled with I "orders" and "warnings" and "take notice" j and "threats of penalties," he may obey I from fear and by force, but his will and his power of self-control are weakened. Such a character is usually most helpless before temptations in after-life. We are too apt tc overlook the fact that it is not the present urgency that is of the most importance, afI ter all; it is the building up of character that it is to be the long, lasting result ol to-day's battle, not the mere striking of the ' flag and surrender of the sword. : Miscellaneous Heading. ! EMINENT LAWYERS. ' PRENTISS, O'CONNER, FILLMORE AND CLEVELAND. In 18.39 there appeared in the national arena a phenomenal man. I doubt if our century has seen in this country another so rapid growth of a national reputation as an orator and lawyer, as in the case of Sergeant S. Prentiss. The tradition of him is fast fading. Let us catch a glimpse of the receding figure. He was born in Maine in 1808, and settled in Vicksburg, Mississippi, in 1828. His extraordinary genius secured lor him at once the leadership of the Mississippi bar. He held it by his intellectual r supremacy and his personal courage. Duels r were then the order of the day. To refuse a challenge from Governor Foote was equiv. alent to ostracism, and he fought him. He t had weaknesses, but in theirsplendid setting . they were almost lost from view. In a re? pudiating State he denounced repudiation, r and by his argument in the courts crushed . the principle in the State tribunals. In a f State that would rob the Choctaws, he f championed the cause of the Indian. He ) moved through life a knight without fear, r and without reproach, a foe of the oppres. sor, a defender of the wronged. Sidney > was not more chivalric, Bayard not more I true. In 1838 he was elected to Congress as , a whig. His seat was disputed, and he det fendeu his claim before the House of Rep. resentatives in a speech which took the . House and country by storm. Its brillian5 cy, its chivalric tone, its logical power, its > legal acumen, captivated and astonished. . No young member of Congress ever receiv. such ovations. He served through that b Congress, declining a second election. His is another instance of a bold and successful > experiment. At the age of thirty-six he j removed to New Orleans, a much more im> portant field. Although this required him . to master the civil law he accomplished it, i and took rank with the foremost leaders of r the Louisiana bar. He died at forty-two i years of age. > I wish I could speak with full intelli) gence, and time permitted, of Charles i O'Conner. You know he was in most of the great cases arising in New York during i his active career, that he preferred profest sional success to pecuniary rewards, tnat he , had a power of will that batfled death until . broken by age. He rose to his primacy by ; force of intellect and his vast learning. His > argument in the Lemmon case sustaining . the right of a master to bring his slave and . retain him in our state is an illustration of . his individuality. He defied .the antiCTArt^irvtnnf n nrl IIAI/HIT in/lb fhc 7 DlttVCl^y OCIIUKIICUU auu uwiUij luun i.iiu I ground that slavery was the natural and > just condition of the African race. He basi ed his position upon its history. It had 3 proved incapable of civilization. He raov. ed through a jury trial like a born com> mander, and his arguments at the bar were r master pieces of learning and logic. Vae victis might have been his motto when ret sisting oppression and wrong, r This imperial manner was strikingly ex. hibited on the Forrest trial, in which, be ing on the defense, he carried the war into t the enemy's country. He made it a desert, ] but did not call it a peace, r In his hundred volumes of his own cases r is the record of his triumphs, the store > house of the spoils of the vanquished. Mr. O'Conner in his island retreat, dei voting his last days to offices of friendship i and charity, and finding in the religion of i his mother consolations superior to all proi fessional triumphs, is as beautiful a picture , of age as appears in the gallery of Plutarch. 5 The Buffalo bar has in the public careers r of two of its eminent members, a unique 1 history. About sixty years ago, Millard Fillmore, , then unknown and unpatronized, came to > Erie county and established himself as a i lawyer. He brought to his profession, in. dustry and fidelity and adequate talent. . So self distrustful was he of his ability to 5 cope with the leaders of the Buffalo bar . that he first settled in the then hamlet of t Aurora. ; In 1828 he was elected a member of the . legislature. He soon after ventured to 1 move to the village of Buffalo which had t begun to feel the ocean tide beat through 3 the Erie canal. In 1824 he was elected a member of Con; gress, and was repeatedly re-elected. By r nis intelligent attention to public business ' he won a national reputation. Relieved > from Congress his State summoned him to I some of its high honors. Before he was . fifty years of age, he was at the head of the i government. He had served up to the presr idency, yet never forsaking his profession > during the intervals of his official life. I About thirty years ago Grover Cleveland I came to Buffalo, like Mr. Fillmore, un| known and unpatronized. Heentered upon the study of the law, and in due time was . enrolled with the profession. Hewasdili[ gent and successful. Against his desires he ; was early called to a semi-judicial office, i and later and still more emphatically , against his desires, to the magistracy of Buf ; fillo. > Then began a history without parallel. ? He did not take the Hood tide which leads [ to fortune?the tide took him, and bore him . whether he would or no to that goal to > which ail our prominent statesmen have . looked with pitiful longing, and, for the i most part, with heart breaking disappointi ment. ? It is worthy your notice that both Mr. 5 Fillmore and Mr. Cleveland laid the foun5 dation of their success in devotion to the . labors and studies of their profession. ? The world may talk of favoring circum; stance, and call it luck, but luck does not so 5 crown idlers or fools?From Lecture by lion. ; James 0. Putnam. ; THE WASTE PLACEiToF THE WORLD. The Russian explorer, Prejevalsky, said r after his recent journey in Northern Thibet I that an enormous amount of animal life ; was supported by the scanty herbage grow. ing on these bleak, half sterile plains that ' form the highest plateau in the world, some t 1:1,000 feet above the sea. He said that the f wild yaks there must number millions, and ; that a full grown yak weighs from 1,000 to I 1,800 pounds. Nature's chemistry evolves j these great masses of flesh from the poor f I herbage of a regiou so lofty that its lakes f are frozen over until nearly June, though i they are 0(H) miles nearer the equator thhn ! we are. > Explorers tell us that not only does ani, mal life abound, but that man can live in some of the most desolate parts of the globe. ; It is a mistake to suppose that the Sahara desert is merely a useless sandy waste. , Much of it lacks not so much cultivable > land as industrious hands to make the vast ? expanse of withered oases blossom again. 1 The Musselman sect known as the Senoui sians has for years been digging wells, irri1 gating the land and turning many hundreds of barren acres into gardens. Twenty-four years ago it planted its headquarters in the , desert near the western border of Egypt, built reservoirs, began plantations, erected i convents, and now a population of 8,000 peo, pie live at Jarabub, where the soil has been restored to fertility by their labors. There 1 are large areas in the Sahara that need on ly rain or irrigation to cover them with verdure. Through these regions pa.ss the caravan routes, along which the 50,000 cam els engaged in the Saharan commerce carry > their burdens. [ Mr. Anderson, the civil engineer, who i last year completed sixteen years of explo1 rations in South Africa between the Orange r and Zambezi liivers, says that the rain that > falls for a few weeks every year in the great i region known as the Kalahara desert covi ers the blackened verdureless plain with i splendid vegetation. Game is abundant ; there, especially lions, leopards and ostrich es, and he has counted in this desert twen ty-two lions in a troup, and has seen 200 os' triches in one flock. Beasts and birds find ! sustenance in this region where only a few Bushman hunters live. Far Northeast of them 011 the semi-arid steps of Kordofa and Darfur, millions of sheep and camel exist on the scanty pasturage of that desei region. The earliest Arctic explorers found in th little Spitsbergen Archipelago?where it i believed no human bpin^ had ever livedherds of reindeer upturning the snow wit their hoofs and noses to get at the lichens o which they feed. Many reindeer live a far north as Littleton Island, and severe scores of them were killed by the Hayes an Polaris expeditions. Musk oxen, or thei traces have been found along the shores c the great frozen sea as far north as exploi ers.nave attained. Lockwood, far North c the supposed limit of animal life, foun traces of this wonderful quadruped, whicl crows fat on the tender shoots of the Arcti willow, and plows up the snow for inof and lichens. Of all parts of the earth, the Antareti regions alone are comparatively destitute ( life. Few species of living things in tli vegetable or animal kingdom can endur the rigor of the South Polar regions. N terrestial quadruped inhabitsthe land with in the Antarctic circle, and whales an seals are the only mammals that enter it area. Summer in the Arctic regions, wit its abundant life on land and in the air an sea, presents an animated and cheerfi scene compared with the utter desolatio that reigns perpetually'in Antarctic water LIFE IN A STATE PRISON. THE UNFLEASANT ABODE OF CRIMINAL AT WETHERS FIELD, CONN. The Wethersfield Penitentiary is perhaf as unpleasant a place of residence as an criminal, of however widea range of exper ence, will be able to mention. The builc ing, which is rectangular in shape, is foi bidding in its appearance, being built of dingy red sandstone. It is about two hut dred feet long, forty feet wide and fort feet high, and contains 272 cells, each ce being seven feet long, seven feet high an three feet wide. The cells were furnishe by contract, the furniture being of Sparta like simplicity. An oblong iron frame upo which is stretched a piece of canvass, an which is fastened by iron hooks to the wal serves as the convict's bed. At night it i supplemented with a loosely filled stra^ mattress. In the daytime the mattress i removed and the frame is swung up again? the wall. Each bed is provided with a stra^ pillow about the size of a brick, and tw cotton coverlets. A wooden shelf, a wooc en bucket, an earthenware water jug, Bible and a slate complete the furniture. The managers of this penal institutio I L.i! 4~ ?t.uu ueneve 111 siuiuug iu u^iil ?vim mc n dividuals who go to their boarding hous< There is no toning-down system in vogu< The convict is made to realize within thre seconds after his arrival that he is in a tigh place, where no nonsense is allowed. A soon as transferred to the custody of th Warden he is required to fold his arms an is then put face to the wall, in which hi miliating position he is allowed to remai ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, or two i may be, or at all events until the keeper i quite ready to attend to him. After bein measured and weighed and put into a su of prison clothes, he is led to "the dungeon, a dismal adjunct to the prison proper. Th door is opened; he is thrust in and the doc is locked behind him. After being kej there a sufficient length of time to gi\ him a tolerably correct notion of the ur pleasantness of the place, he is released an then informed that confinement in thi dungeon is one of the mild forms of punisl ment which may be relied upon to follow a infraction of the prison rules. He is next shown the "cat" and the "ba and chain," and is requested to note thei carefully in his memory. This terroriziu process over, he is conducted back to th main prison and placed in line with fiv convicts?three in front and two behin him?and is marched around the corridoi an hour or t\\%), or until the keeper is satii fled that he has become proficient in th "lock step." This drill concluded, the doc of one of the work-shops is pointed out t him, and he is told to fold his arms, kee his eyes on the ground and march to th shop. He is met at the door by the sho] keeper, who tells him that the first rule c the place is that convicts shall never loo up from their work. Other rules, he is ir formed, require him to speak to nobody an to work incessantly from bell to bell. Th shops are small, containing on an averag about twenty-five men each. These poorl fed prisoners are expected to turn out mor work than is done by the average skille workman in the outer world. If a convict working at a window lifts hi head from his work for one glad glimpse c the bright sunlight, he is immediately lock ed up in the dark cell. After the night be rings, the convicts fall in line iu the shop and march with lock-step to the prison yar and form a semi-circle. The guards an keepers then approach, and each convic takes off his hat, throws up his arms and i searched, the prisoners standing bare-heat ed during the process, even though th thermometer, as is frequently the case, rep isters several degrees below zero. On thei return to the prison the convicts are marci ed to a cold, cheerless hall, where they ar drawn up in line and commanded to fol their armsand keeptheireyeson thegrounc In this penitential attitudethey are expecte to join in singing a glad hymn of praise t the Lord Most High, which is led by th prison chaplain. A prayer is then said b the chaplain to which the convicts are r< quired to respond "Amen."?N. Y. Work Missouri's Buried City.?The city t Moberly, Mo., is stirred up over the disco\ ery of a wonderful buried city, which wa discovered at the bottom of a coal shaft, 3? feet deep, which was being: sunk near th city. The account of the discovery, whie comes from Saint Louis, says: A hard an thick stratum of lava arches in the burie city, the streets of which are regularly lai out and inclosed by walls of stone, whie is cut and dressed in a fairly good, althoug rude, style of masonry. A hall 30 by 1(] feet was discovered, wherein were ston benches and tools of all descriptions ft mechanical service. Further search di: closed statues and images made of a compt sition closely resembling bronze, lackin lustre. A stone fountain was found, situr ted in a wide court or street, and from a stream of perfectly pure water was flow ing, which was found to be strongly impreg nated with lime. Lying beside the four dation were portions of the skeleton of human being. The bones of the leg mea: ured, the femur lour and one-half-feet, th tibia four feet and three inches, showin j that when alive the figure was three time the size of an ordinary man, and possesse of a wonderful muscular power and quiet ness. The head bones had separated in tw places, the sagittal and the caronal suturi having been destroyed. The implemenl found embrace bronze and flint knive: stone and granite hammers, metalic saw of rude workmanship, but proved meta and others of similar character; they ar not so highly polished, nor so accuratel j made as those now finished by our best me | chanies, but they show skill and an evi | dence of an advanced civilization that ar ! very wonderful. The searching party spen j twelve hours in the depth, and only gav I nn ovnlni-otinnii hpi"/lll?p nf thonil ill tlioi lamps being low. Xo end to the wonders c the discovery was reached. The facts abov given are vouched for by Mr. David Coates the Recorder of the city of Moberly, am Mr. George Keating, City Marshal, wh were of the exploring party. Curious Effects of Dust.?If the al mosphere were purely gasseous, and hel< no minute foreign bodies in suspension, th aspect of the sky would be utterly differ ent from what it now is. The sun woul< glare down directly with blinding intensity and objects not in direct sunlight would b in almost complete shadow. A room facinj north would be in something like darkness at least it would be only illuminated by re flection from illuminated objects outside n The suii would be set in a black firmament, s and if its direct light were screened off it t would be easy to see the stars at noonday. Through dust-free air light passes on without e loss by scattering, and is quite invisible exs cept to the eye placed directly in its course. - There is nothing remarkable in seeing nothh ingwhenno dust or other reflecting body n is present. When you see motes dancing is in a sunbeam, it is not the motes which il render the sunbeam visible, but the sund beam the motes, and, of course, light is inr visible which does not enter the eye. )f What is the actual s^ate of things as con - trasted with this ? The sun's rays on reach)f I ingour atmosphere are partially interceptd | ed, diffused andscattered by myriads of most h minute particles, so minute as to be even ic smaller than the light waves themselves, >s I and to act on the smallest of these waves i more powerfully than on the largest. The s c | light thus scattered is the diffuse daylight )f so entirely satisfactory and pleasant to the e eye, and so inimitable by artificial systems e of illumination. The light thus scattered o has a preponderance of small waves, owing l- to the minute size of the scattering particl cles, and hence it affects our sight organ cs with the sensation of blue. By this scatterh ed light shadows are mellowed, the intend sity of direct suulight is mitigated, and the il whole expanse of sky glows with a perfect n lustre, effectually drowning the light from 3. the more distant celestial bodies. Above the top of high mountains dust is almost absent, and there the sky has been observed at times to look almost black, and stars are ,s sometimes visible in sunlight.?London Nature. >s Barrios' Remarkable Career.?Justo y Ruttino Barrios was a native of Guatemala, i- born in 1835, by profession a lawyer. In 1- 1867 he entered the political arena, storming r- the barracks of San Marcos, his native place, a and continuing his revolutionary operations l- with varying success till, in 1871, havingaly lied himself to the influential exile, Grana11 dos, the object of the risings were accomd plished. Barrios, as commander-in-chief d under the new regime, intrigued against n Granados, and finally, in 1873, ousted him n from the Presidency, and became dictator, d For twelve years Barrios ruled Guatemala 1, with a rod of iron. The lash was plied reis lentlessly upon the backs of those who had iv provoked his hatred or suspicion, he himis self would summon an opponent to his pallit ace, cut him over the face with his ridingv whip and bid the bleeding wretch return o next day to thank him and "receive further 1- orders." Merchants were thrown into jail a and flogged, or set to labor on the streets with the ball and chain eating into their n ankles. The compositpr who set upanarl tide criticising the Government died under 3. the lash, though the Constitution of the Re?. public guarantees the freedom of the press, e No people could have been more thoroughly it terrorized?in fact, so complete was his as.s cendancy that Barrios could ridicule their e bungling attempts at overthrowing or assasd sinating him. He administered public afi fairs with marked vigor and ability, foundn ing military and tradeschools, building railit roads and promoting commerce, his object is being the development of Guatemala's reg sources so that he could extend his rule over it the four other Central American States. To " accomplish this result he had labored since e 1873 ; finally, on the 28th day of February, - iMiAnloimnd Hio nninn nf flip P^ni)hli(N tl lie UlVA,iaiUlV/U 111V UUIVU Vitw >t under his dictatorship, marched upon San -e Salvador, and was defeated and slain, l- Barrios had accumulated, by enterprise d and extortion, a fortune of several millions, is He had a handsome houseon Fifth Avenue, l- in New York, where he had invested some n $2,000,000 in securities and real estate, by way of providing for a "rainy day." His 11 wife is one of the handsomest women in n Central America. Struck by her beauty he g" betrothed her to himself, educated her, and e overcame her father's reluctance to the une ion by confiscating the old gentleman's d property and sending him to the chain gang, s One of their sons is being educated at West s- Point. e )r First Settlement of tiie Earth.? 0 According to the opinion commonly reTJ ceived, the general deluge, recorded by e Moses, occurred about the year of the world j. 1G50, and 2350 before the Christian era. There is a difference, however, among chroj, nologists, of from one to three hundred years, on account of different ages assigned (j to antediluvian patriarchs. About one nune dred and fifty years from the deluge, that is, ,e about two thousand two hundred years bev fore our era, according to the common com:e putation, the inhabitants were considerable ^ in the part of the earth where they lived, there being then five generations, including [S the sons of Noah who lived to a great age. The building or the attempt to build Babel, the separation of the human race and their jj dispersion into distant regions is usually )g fixed at this period. Some of them, the c'l children and grand-children of Ham, went j south to Canaan or Palestine, and thehce ,t some of them into Egypt, where the climate ls is mild and the soil rich, and soon became a [_ numerous people. Japhet settled in more e northern or northwestern parts of Asia, and r_ thence passed into Europe. And the de'r scendants of Shem settled Chaldea, and thence emigrated into the eastern and e southeastern parts of Asia. The people of cj India are certainly an ancient race. Some j people suppose that Noah himself lived J three hundred years after the flood. p The Temper.?If persons generally knew ? what an advantage to them it was to be f cheerful there would be fewer sour faces in thpwnrlrl and infinitelv less temner. A man never gains anything by exhibiting his annoyance by his face, much less by burst}' ing into a passion. As it is neither manly '' nor wise to yield like a child pettishly to is every cross, so it is alike foolish and absurd to allow feelings of anger to de? prive us of self-control. There never was a man in any controversy who lost his tem(j per who did not come near losing his cause lj in consequence. If ever a person plays the Y game of nis enemies it is when he is in a ? passion. Acquaintances shun men of provy erbial ill-temper; friends drop away from 10 them; even wives and children gradually e learn to fear them more than to love. ,r Thousands of men owe their want of success in life to neglecting the control of their temper. Nor has the excuse that it is an in? firmity which cannot be restrained excused !" them; for Washington, though naturally of a passionate disposition, disciplined himseli ' until he passed for a person utterly impass>* ive. No man who neglects his temper can l* be happy any more than he makes those u happy arround. Good temper is gold, is beyond price. Bad temper is a curse to the e possessor and to society. 's Agricultural Wealth of Mexico.? d The quality of Mexican grain has always > been excellent, and Mexico took the first o prize for wheat at the Philadelphia exposiis tion. The Mexicans take one crop of wheat and two of corn from the land in two years, 5, and the average yield is twenty bushels of s wheat and forty of corn to the acre. The 1, wheat growing region covers about 52,000 e square miles, an area larger than England y and nearly as large as Georgia It is believed that one-third of this could be kept i- in wheat with due regard to the other crops, e Corn is, however, the great staple of the t country, taking the place in the native diet c that wheat does in the American. It grows r in the table-lands with wheat and in the >f hot lowlands as well, e .The yield for the last available year is ?. pstimntpd hv a leading Mexican statistician d to have been worth $112,000,000, against o $17,000,000 worth of wheat, $0,000,000 worth sugar, $8,000,000 of beans, $2,000,000 each oi coffee, tobacco and straw, and $1,000,000 > each of rice and cocoa, the whole agriculture d al products reaching $177,000,000 exclusive e of tropical fruits, of the growth of which no statistics have been gathered. Every d European vegetable and fruit is found somewhere in the different altitudes and the e woods range from mahogany, ebony and [? rosewood to white pine and maple. ; All honest men will bearwatching. It '.' is the rascals that can't stand it.