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?MM????aa?a?????????11 \mmmmmmmammmmimmmmmtmmmmammmmmBmmmmmaBmmmmaammmmmmKmm __ MiiiMMMMMMaMMMMMMMMMMi n ?MM?? ^??Ml^?? lewis m. grist, proprietor. | ^ir Jfitkjpbtnl Jfkmilg fltfospaptr: Jfor % promotion of fjjc ^oMcal, Sotial, ^jritalfitral anb Comntcrria] $nftrtsfs of % Sotiffr. j terjis--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 31. YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MAY 7, 1885. NO. 19. ^elected ? oetrg. WHEN THE COWS COME HOME." With klingle, klangle, klingle, Far down the dusky dingle, The cows are coming home; Now sweet and clear, and faint and low, The airy tinklings come and go, Like cliiinings from the far off tower, Or patterings of an April shower. That makes the daisies grow; Ko-ling, ko-ling, ko-linglelingle, Far down the darkening dingle; The cows come slowly home! And old-time friepds, and twilight plays, And starry nights, and sunny days, Come trooping up the misty ways. When the cows comeliome. With jingle, jangle,-jingle, Soft tones that sweetly inirgle, The cows are coming home ; Malvine and Pearl and Floromel, DeKamp, Red Rose and Gretcben Scbell, Queen Bess, and Sylph, and Spangled SueAcross the tields I'hear her "loo-oo," And clang her silver bell: 1 Go-ling, go-lang, golinglelingle. With faint, far sounds mat mingle, The cows come slowly home ; And mothersongs of long-gone years, And baby ioys, and childish tears, And youthful hopes and youthful fears, When the cows come home. With ringle, rangle, ringle, By twos and threes and single, ( The cows are coming home ; Through violet air we seethe town, And the Summer sun is slipping down, And the maple in the hazel glade Throws down the path a longer shade, And the hills are growing brown ; To-ring, to-ring, to-ringleringle, By threes and fours ana single, The same sweet sound of wordless psalm, The same sweet June-day rest and calm, The same sweet smell of buds and balm, 1 When the cows come home. With tinkle, tankle, tinkle. Through fern and periwinkle, The cows are coming home; 1 A-loitering in the checkered stream, 1 Where the sun-rays glance and gleam, Olarine, Peachbloom, and Phebe Phillis, Stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies, In a drowsy dream ; To-link, to-lank, tolinkle, The cows come slowly home; And up through memory's deep ravine, i Come the brook's old sorip and its old-time sheen, And the crescent of the silver Queen, i When the cows come home. With klinkle, klankle, klinkle, 1 With loo-oo and moo-oo and jingle, i The cows are coming home; And over there on Merline Hill, finnnds tha nloint.ivA t>rv nf thfi whlD-DOOr-Will. And the dewdrops lie on the tangled vines, And over the poplars Venus shines, And over the silent mill; Ko-ling, ko-iang, kolinglelingle, I With ting-a-ling and jingle, The cows come slowly home. ] Let down the bars: lei in the train Of long gone songs, and flowers, and rain, For dear old times come back again, When the cows come home. 1 , MtJRtflfg iellet. ; MY LITTLE BOY. | I was a widow. ] A young widow, I suppose?for no one ] would regard three-and-twenty as a very * venerable age. And a pretty widow, people said. Whether they were right or J wrong, I cannot take upon myself to say. Of course I knew, whenever I looked in the glass, that I was not an absolute fright? i and so, when my cousin, Mrs. General Foxley,. invited me to spend a summer with ! her at the Oriental hotel, where there were 1 balls and soirees, lawn tennis and archery, ( breakfasts going on all the while, I wasn't , at all sorry that Mile. Chatelage had sent home my lovely new half-mourning dress, all trimmed with pearl and lavender, sparkling jet and prismatic clair de lunes, and that Aunt Lavinia, our family "etiquette- < book" had decided that it was quite proper , to wear my diamonds if I pleased. For I was a decided brunette, and dark women , always look well in diamonds. Not that it had occurred to me that I ] should ever marry again. My old commo- ] dore had been very good and kind to me, but he was feeble and ailing, and required , a great deal of care and my general impression of matrimony was that it involved ; trouble and solicitude, and a constant bur- J den of responsibility. And now, I wa3 free, and I intended to remain so! I felt like a caged bird that ( had managed to give its golden wires the ] slip-^-a butterfly in the blue June air! I meant to go to the Oriental hotel and have , a roval time, waltzinc. dreaming?even coquetting a little in a harmless sort of way, if it seemed good to me?but as to marrying again?no, not I? Even Priscilla Bent, , my companion, who was the most logical ot creatures, declared that I would be the j greatest fool alive to do that! But we never know just what is going to j happen to us. The very night before we were to start for the Orient, I came into the , room where Priscilla was packing the lace , things, which were too nice and delicate to be intrusted to Fifine, the maid. ! "Prissy," said I, "look here! a telegram ( from San Domingo! My cousin, Fanny ( Black, is dead!" "Dear me, how sad!" said Prissy, putting { on the regulation look of affliction, although ( she had never in her life seen Mrs. Captain Basil Black, of H. M. 114th Fusilliers, sta- , tioned in the West Indies. "But I suppose that won't interfere with our trip to the seaside, will it ?" * "But that isn't all," said I. "She has left a son. And with her dying breath she charged it on her attendants that I should j take him to this country and make a home : for him." "How old is he ?" said Priscilla Bent, i looking aghast. And?'" * "Let me see," said I, counting upon my , fingers. "Basil Black?that's his name, for J I remember cousin Fanny writing about him. to mamma when I was a mite of a . thing?must be one and tweuty at least by this time." "Bless me!" ejaculated Priscilla, "and you are only just turning twenty-three yourself!" "Prissy," cried I, with mischievous glee, J "You're as good as a book on dates!" "But it won't be proper," said Priscilla. : "Not proper!" echoed I. "Why won't it J ho nroner? Isn't that dpar old commodore's house Gig enough for all of us? And aren't you here to matronize us? I think myself ( it will be rather fine to lit up a suite of , bachelor apartments?smoking room ; dress- , ing room?" "Elsie," cried Miss Bent in despair, "I ' believe you would make fun of anything! Don't you see how outlandish this plan would be? Write at once to these San Do- ( raingo people, and tell them it is out of the question." "It's too late now, Prissy," said I. "They are on the way here, don't you see? I shouldn't wonder if the steamer were in port now. And you know, Priasy, I've , always wanted to adopt a little boy, only the dear commodore wouldn't let me." "Elsie." !, "Well, Prissy?" "I think you must be crazy," groaned ! Miss Bent. "A little boy, indeed ! A dash-1 ing, flirting, drinking West India^ fellow, j ( six feet high, I'll go hail, ana oroau 10 cor-1 respond ! I shall leave the house!" "No, you won't Prissy," said I, coaxingly. "You'll just make the best of it, as I am going to do. I dare say he is very nice, and poor Fanny never would have left him in my charge "if he wasn't all that is delightful. And perhaps he'll want to go to college, or study law or something, so he won't be very much in the house, after all?and you know, Prissy, one can't neglect a dying woman's request." "It was very thoughtless of her, at all events," grumbled my faithful old chaperon. "A young thing like you!" I laughed. "I dare say she heard I was a widow," said I, "and probably imagined me a middle-aged horror with eye glasses and a double chin. Leave these things, Prissy?we shall not go to the seashore now until cousin Basil is safely installed with his gun case, his hookahs and chibouks, his books and papers, in my blue rooms! Come with me and we'll have up the house-keeper, and turn them into a bachelor suite at once." I was very happy for the next three days studying the imaginary tastes of my unknown cousin, culling out choice editions of the poets, hanging rare engravings on the walls, and matching carpets and curtains. Miss Bent, poor old soul, said it was all nonsense, that no young man of any spirit could condescend to "sit down" (that was her expression) "in a house where he was to be a dependent." "But he is my cousin," said I. "He has a claim on me." "Nonsense," said Priscilla, "that doesn't alter the case in the least." In the meantime I was watching the papers?and when I saw in the shipping columns the arrival of the "Bonnie Ante" from San Domingo, I put on my hat and veil, ordered the carriage, and called Prissy to go and accompany me to welcome my new guest. "If I must, I must," said Prissy. But she was not at all enthusiastic about it. I was just pinning the crape bow under my chin, when Alice, the parlor-maid, came courtesying in. "A young gentleman in the parlor to see you ma'am," she said in a smiling flurry. "From the San Domingo steamer. And?" "I'll go down at once, Alice," I cried, tearing off my hat and veil and flingng the heavy crape streamer on one side. "Elsie, Elsie, wait," Priscilla's shrill voice entreated me, but my mind was full of poor cousin Fanny and her orphan child, ana hurrying down stairs I found myself face to face with a tall slender young man, very pale and fair, with dark blue eyes, soft, silky mustache and plain mourning dress. Involuntarily I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. t4Vnn arp wplmmp. Cniisin Basil." said I, "welcome a thousand times." He drew back, colored a little. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Charteris," he said, "but there is some mistake here. This is your cousin!" and a pale child of four or five years old, whose long golden curls hung over his black suit, crept out from the shadow of the curtains, slowly and shyly. "I am Frank," he said. "And Mr. Lesley is my dear friend. He lived on the next place in San Domingo. He has come to the United States with me!" "But," I cried looking hopelessly around tne, "where is Basil ?" "Basil died two years ago when the yellow fever decimated our place," said Mr. Lesley, quietly. "I was his most Intimate friend. Little Frank is all that is now left of the Black family, and I promised his mother to see him safely to your house." I looked with a pang of pity at the dear little golden-hairea fellow, of whose very existence I had hitherto been ignorant. "Sweet little Frankie," said I, "you shall be my little boy hence forward," and I clasped the baby form to my breast. "And Mr. Lesley, too?" said the little lad solemnly reaching out his hand to his friend. "Cousin Elsie likes Mr. Lesley, or she wouldn't have kissed him." I could feel myself color to the very roots of my hair, but Mr. Lessley's features never stirred. "She thought I was you. Frankie, don't you see?" said he* "She didn't expect to see such a mite of a chap as you. Goodbye, now, I am going to the hotel, and I shall see you very often, if Mrs. Charteris is " But at this Frank burst into an infant cry of dismay and desolation, and I, recovering my presence of mind, spoke up at once: "Frankie, don't cry," said I, "Mr. Lesley will not leave you?just at present, at least. You were my dead cousin's trusted friend, Mr. Lesley," I added, holdingoutmy hand. "May I not hope that you will be my guest, also.'' And Mr. Lesley seeing that I was thoroughly in earnest, consented. "If I shall not be a bore!" he said, when little Frankie jumped and danced around him, for very joy. "Now I shall love cousin Elsie all my life said hie. "And so will Mr. Lesley!" Mr. Lesley occupied the suite of apartments which I had so unconsciously fitted up for the poor young cousin who was sleeping the while in the West India cemetery. Little Frankie, who had refused to be parted from his friend, slept in a crib close to his bedside. "Well, Prissy," I said, merrily, to my mother chaperon, "so we've got two guests instead of one!" "It's dreadful," growled poor Prissy. "Do you think so?" said I. Now itseems to me that it is very good fun !" Well, of course any one can conjecture for themselves how it ended. Mr. Lesley was young and handsome?moreover he had a snug little property of his own. He liked the United States, and incidentally remarked that if he had any object he would prefer to remain here permanently. "But," he added, mournfully, "it is sad to be so entirely without ties, that no one eares whether you stay in one place or another." "I care," piped up Frank, who sat as usual by his side, holding his hand. "And so does cousin Elsie." "Yes," said I, laughing, though not without some confusion. "Frankie is right. We both en re." "There," said Mr. Lesley, "I will stay." We were engaged within the month. And as soon as I laid off' my half mourning we were married, so that Frankie never yet has been compelled to separate from his friend. And Miss Bent lives with us still, and we are very happy ! There is the end of my love story. Ought not all love stories to end 30? Miss Bent says that all real romances end sadly; but my experience, you see, has been altogether different. And perhaps I am a better judge than she is.?Shirley Browne. No Poetry in a Maiden's I,ove.?It was divinely announced in the early history of the world that "it was not good for man to be alone," and. the announcement lias received the almost universal indorsement of our race, especially the male portion of the race. It may be that some are discouraged by frequent failures?that is, those who failed to marry those they wished. To the male sex this would seem to apply, as it is supposed that the men only do the courting. Put a close observer will sometimes admit that the ladies take part in it. I once heard of a party who asked a lady of over three-score years how old a lady would become before she would relinquish the idea of marriage, and the answer was: "My son, go ask some one older than I." People will marry. It is necessary that they should. But they should love first. Those who write of love generally treat the subject with too much levity, and associate it with soft glances, moonlight walks and poetry. Love and poetry go hand in hand sometimes, but poetry is generally left?left away in the background. The young man, when he nrst gets in love, is a poet in his own conceit. The girl does not get that way. She has a practical idea of love, and whether or not she reciprocates the passion of the young fellow who is letting out his soul to her, she will knock all the poetry out of- him on the first round.? A Lecture by Pastor Hammond. The Finest Bay.?The bay of Havana is said, by the geographies, to be the finest in the world. It is in the shape of a man's hand, the opening into the sea corresponding to the wrist, and the lingers being represented by bays or inlets stretching in all directions. But in this magnificent haven there is not and never has been, pier, or quay or dock or any place for a vessel to land. All the loading and unloading of passengers, freight or cattle, is done by means of small lighters, which are rowed back and forth between the vessel and the land. fjtoteis of Itavclin (ShnMpt. OBSERVATIONS ON IRELAND. BY REV. R. LATHAN. [Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.] North-east of Belfast, on the south bank of Belfast Lough, is situated the old town Bangor. From Belfast, it is distant about thirteen miles. Bangor is in county Down. The name Down is said to be a corruption of Dunum, which means a hilly country. In a "Survey" written more than a hundred and fortv vears aero it is thus described: "The wWe county is remarkable for the number of its hills, being compared to wooden bowls inverted, or eggs set in salt, from whence it took the name Do^'n, which signifies hilly situation." By common consent Down is regarded as one of the finest counties in Ulster Province and by its inhabitants it is regarded as the Yorkshire of Ireland. There can be no question about the excellency of the soil, the beauty of the scenery, and the thrift and industry of the inhabitants of this section of Ireland. Evidences of great wealth are numerous; on the other hand evidences of great poverty are not wanting. Here I may remark that one of the features of Ireland, and the same is true of England and Scotland, is that the extremes of wealth and poverty are at a great distance. In America the mass of thet white people are neither very rich nor very poor. Such is not the case in Ireland. The rich are very rich, and the poor are very poor, and there is, apparently, very little prospect of their ever being able to better their condition. Some of the large farmers in the British Isles pay more rent than the gross income of our largest Southern farms. Here I may remark that in each of the British Isles, fortunes are the result of the accumulations of many generations. Here in the United States the mass of the rich men of the country began life poor?many of them miserably poor. In Great Britain instances of large fortunes being accumulated in a single life time are rare, and generally such fortunes have been made in some of the Colonies. Young men of energy go to Australia and in a short time amass large sums or money, come back to Ireland or Scotland or England and invest in property and spend the remainder of their lives in ease and luxury. It is a rare thing, however, for a man who is born poor in Ireland to die rich, unless he leave the country. In County Down there are quite a number of flourishing towns. Among these, in some respects, the most noted is Bangor. Not on account of the number of its inhabitants, for it contains only about two thousand five hundred inhabitants, while Newry contains over fifteen thousand inhabitants and Ballymacarret more than twenty-two thousand. With Bangor, as well as with many other towns, " 'tis distance that lends enchantment to the view." Bangor has a history which reaches far back into the past, and it once had an importance which few other towns on the island possessed. Ireland is called the "Isle of Saints" and Bangor the "City of Saints." According to traditional history Bangor was founded about the middle of the sixteenth century by St. Comgall. A school, which became celebrated all over Europe, was soon after its founding, established at Bangor. This school, it is claimed, gave rise to the world renowned Oxford College of England. The claim is set up?whether well founded or not I do not know?that when Alfred founded Oxford he sent to the school at Bangor, Ireland, for teachers. I suppose an Englishman would deny this, but it is certainly claimed by some of the Irish to be a fact. For generations past the English in particular, and generally the rest of the world, have been dispc*?ed to regard with a feeling which more than faintly resembles contempt both Ireland and the Irish. Perhaps this is accounted for by the fact that the human family generally hate those whom they have maltreated more bitterly than they do those by whom they have been maltreated. This is a strange freak, but human nature is lull oi ireiiKs. At present Bangor is engaged, to a limited extent, in the cotton and lineh trade. It is a bathing place of considerable resort, especially to the inhabitants of Belfast. Small pleasure steamboats are constantly running between Belfast and Bangor. These boats run several times each week day, and although the Irish, as a rule, are strict observers of the Sabbath, some of them run on the Sabbath. In the mind of the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians, the name Bangor is always associated with Robert Blair. "You must see Bangor. You have heard of Blair of Bangor," said a native of Belfast, as we walked down Donegal street. George Washington is not more intimately associated with Mount Vernon in the minds of the American people, than Robert Blair is with Bangor, in the minds of the Presbyterian population of England. Brice of Broad Island, Blair of Bangor, Stuart of Bronshane, Cooke of Belfast, and Paul of Carrickfergus,are names which send a thrill through every Presbyterian's bosom. Cooke is in the Presbyterian church of Ireland all that Chalmers is in the Presbyterian church of Scotland. Robert Blair, of Bangor, was born in the town of Irvine, in Scotland, in lo93. At that time Elizabeth was Queen of England, and James the Sixth, King of Scotland. In his eighteenth year, or in 1(511, he entered the University of Glasgow, and in 1(514 graduated. During the period that he was in the University, his brother William was a regent, that is a teacher of the arts and sciences, to the lower classes in the University. After graduating, Robert Blair taught school for two years, and then became the successor of his brother William, who settled as pastor of Dumbarton congregation. For various reasons, the people of some sections of the United States should feel an interest in Robert Blair. lie was a ScotchIrishman. So were many of the first settlers of the United States. In addition to this, many of the Blair family came to South Carolina, both before and after the Revolutionary war. One of the relations of Robert Blair settled on the Lancaster side of Catawba river, on the hill east of Landsford. Here he built a mill and the ford was called Blair's ford until about the time of the Revolutionary war. At Blair's mill Cornwallis obtained supplies for his army, when on his way to Charlotte. Another Blair, a relation of iiobe&t Blair, settled at Camden, South Carolina. After the Revolutionary war, Captain John Blair settled in Yorkville. In Bullock's Creek township, in York county, there arc a number of Blairs. All these are blood relations of Blair, of Bangor. The original Blair settlement in Ireland, was.in Ulster Province. There are some of them still in Ballymena. They are all of Scotch descent, and some of them were men of note in their day. Robert Blair, of whom I propose to write a few things, still lives in the memory of the Scotch-Irish, no matter where they are, and his name will continue to live in the memory of the Scotch-Irish as long as the "three nicked shamrock" continues to grow. It is not proposed to do anything more at present than mention, very briefly, a few of the remarkable incidents of the life of Blair, of Bangor. The first incident of his life occurred when he was about six years old. At that period his father died. When the corpse of the lather was taken to the graveyard to be interred, so great was the grief of the little son, that it was with great difficulty that he was prevented from jumping into the grave. Another incident, which occurred in his childhood, is calculated to raise an inquiry in the minds of a multitude of grown men and women. One Sabbath day he was, by some means, left alone in the house. lie looked out of the window and saw the cow standing near by with a full udder. He was only seven years old. He began to reflect upon his ^irroundings. The sun was shining. He saw that the sun gave light and the cow furnished the family with milk, but as for himself, he was doing nothing either for himself or any one else. It filled his heart with sadness to think that a cow was of much use, and he was of 110 use at all. This certainly was a marvelous train of reflection for a boy of seven years of age. There are hundreds of old grey headed men and women, who have never as yet been of as much use to society asa cow, and although they are growing old, they are so stupid as to be unaole to discover that they are worse than drones?terrible pests to society. During Robert Blair's last year in the University of Glasgow he concluded that his health required that he spend a considerable amount of time in taking exercise in archery and catch-pole, whatever that was. In order, however, that the time spent in taking exercise might not interfere with his studies he determined to spend every other night entirely in study. For some reason he desired to keep this concealed and this could be effected in no other way than htr rotirinnr fn a rnnm in 'thp TTnivprsitv "J ^"""b w * ~ 4 which was regarded as haunted. It was a current belief among the students of the University, and probably by some of the Krofessors, that the devil or some evil spirit, ad, for some unknown nefarious purpose, taken possession iOf\tJ}e room. The result was that without a word of objection the room had been turned over to evil spirits. Blair himself had seen the devil in the room. He appeared in the shape of a fellow student. Blair chased him around the room, when finally the evil spirit, as Blair thought, seemed to hide in one corner of the room. From his hiding place Blair attempted to pull him out, but found nothing to pull out. The spirit had vanished. To this room, infested with evil spirits, Blair retired every other night and pored over his text books. The reader must remember that the event just related occurred in 1613, and the belief in ghosts and witches was more common then than it is to-day. The fact that Blair could remain at his studies all night in a room which everybody regarded as haunted shows that he had in him something that is in few men. After graduating Blair taught school for two years and afterwards was one of the regents in the University of Glasgow.. Shortly after this he was licensed to preach the gos pel. James the First was King of P^ngland and Scotland. The work of reformation in the church was stopped by the efforts of the King and his minions to force everybody to conform to his hierarchial notions. Blair became involved in a difficulty with certain Earties in authority, and about the same time e received an invitation from Lord Claneboy to visit Ireland. Lord Claneboy was patron of Bangor parish. The justly celebrated James Usher, D. D., was Archbishop of Armah and Primate of all Ireland at that time. Impressed with the idea that he could accomplish nothing for the advancement of religion in Scotland, Blair accepted the. invitation of the patron of Bangor. Early in 1623 he landed at Glenarm, a small town on the eastern coast of Ireland about twenty miles northwest from Carrickfergus. From Glenarm he went to Carrickfergus and from thence across the Lough of Belfast to Bangor. Although Blair knew it was perilous for him to remain in Scotland, still it was with great reluctance that he set out for Ireland. At that time Ireland was considered by the English and Irish as scarcely civilized. It was a place of refuge for the persecuted Scotch and a hiding place for outlaws. It was in 362.'} to the English and Scotch what Texas was a few years ago to the people of the other States. The first individuals seen by Blair on landing was a crowd of persons who had been drinking usquebaugh and eating wild garlic. The smell of the "rampions" for the time con- i firmed, he says, has prejudices against Ire-, land. I have often heard of "ramps" but I saw no ramps either in the neighborhood j of Glenarm or in any other section of Ire-1 land. Here, if an episode is admissible, I will remark that onions grown in Ireland are neither so strong scented nor as acrid to the taste as those grown in our country. It may be that "ramps" or "rampions" smell as strong as our onions, if so usquebaugh and rampion give the user a strong breath, ftnnn after arriving in Ireland Blair was settled as pastor of the congregation at Bangor. Here he remained in peaceand preached to the edification of the parish tor a number of years. Archbishop Usher was a good man and disposed to bear and forbear and to agree to disagree with those who held ; I views different from those held by himself, j j Some of the bishops, however, were men j who had no regard for either the opinions, I ! convictions or doubts of others. Charles the First, became King in 162f>. He ! had no use for religion, in any form, only so , far as it had a tendency to establish absolute i monarchy. Multitudes of the nation caught j the spirit of their master, and were even,! as might have been expected, greater perse- j cutors than the king himself. There were { in Ireland, at this time, only a few non-con- j forming ministers. These were suspended ! in 1631. They were temporarily restored in 1634, and again deposed. In the winter of 1636 the deposed ministers seeing no prospect that they would be permitted to preach the gospel in Ireland, came to the conclusion to leave the country and go to America. ; They built a ship of one hundred and fifty tons burden, at a point near Belfast, sold out, at a sacrifice, much of their household stuff, and investing in various articles of merchandise, they set sail from Carrickfergus for New England, on the 6th of September, 1636. There were on board one hundred and forty persons. After struggling against winds and waves, until they were ahout! j midway the Atlantic Ocean, they were i forced to return. The vessel on which they J embarked was called the Eagle Wing. A name taken from Deuteronomy, thirty-second chapter and eleventh verse. Not long before this the Mayflower had crossed the Atlantic, bearing the English Puritans to America. Had the Eagle Wing succeeded in crossing the Atlantic, it is probable the whole character of New England ...^.,1^1 UovTrs knnw nlinn/vrtrl nnrl in cnnio ro. WUUJU 1JUVC UCCU tliauguvi, uuu Hi owiAiv ! spects the character of the British Govern| ment would not have been changed as it I was. Not long after the return of the Eagle U'htff to Carrickfergus, Robert Blair, in obedience to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, returned to his native land, where, after experiencing many trials, he died in 1GGG. Th k Benefit ofLaugiiter.?Br. Green, I in his "Problem of Health," says there is ! not the remotest corner or little inlet of the i minute blood-vessels of the human body I that does not feel some wavelet from the j i convulsion occasioned by good, hearty laughter. The life principle, or the central man, is shaken to its innermost depths, sending | new tides and strength to the surface, thus ! materially tending to insure good health to i the persons who indulged therein. The blood moves more rapidly, and conveys a different impression to all the organs of the body, as it visits them on that particular mystic journey when the man is laughing, | different from what it does at other times. | For this reason, every good, hearty laugh ! in which a person indulges tends to lengthen ! his life, conveying, as it does, new and dis+ nf! ivi nlnu fr. tllO vltol f/iri'O 1 InllhtlPSS I tiie time will come when physicians, conceding more importance than they now do to the influence of the mind on the vital forces of the body, will make their prescriptions more with reference to the mind, and less to drugs for the body, and will, in so doing, find the | best and most effective method of producing j the required effect upon the patient. ftraT" In the Island of Goa, near Bombay, [ there is a singular vegetable called "the sor- j rowful tree," because it only flourishes in | the night. At sunset no flowers are to he | seen, and yet, after half an hour, it is full of j them. They yield a sweet smell, but the j sun no sooner begins to shine upon them j than some of them fall off and others close up; and thus it continues flowering in the night during the whole year. The deepest trust leads to the most powerful action. It is the silencing oil that makes the machine obey the motive power with greatest readiness and results. ^isccllaucfltts Ratling, . WHAT IS EDUCATION ? | a SOME INTERESTING THOUGHTS ON AN TM- c PORTA NT SUBJECT. " r An old adage reads: "Study not for / amusement, but for improvement." This conception originated at a period when all c amusement was deemed as verging more or ? less on the sinful by our New England an- , cestors, and life was considered as relatively { perfected when all recreation had been 1 stamped out of it. * Why might not the adage read: "Study * both for amusement and improvement, and let all attempt at study cease as soon as it 13 becomes irksome and a drudgery." Have you ever been a teacher? And, if 1 so, can you from the inmost depth of con- * science and truth say that any profit results 1 to the child forced to plod over any study * which it does not like and which you find it ' impossible to make it like ? ) True, after hours, possibly days, of such J application called "study," its memory may { hold a few words or sentences of whose real meaning its mind may have no real notion. ] After a two months' vacation and the j child resumes its studies, how often have J these "correct answers" utterly vanished 1 from its memory. ( May not the training or cultivation of 5 memory be mistaken for training of mind, { whereof memory seems but an adjunct? 1 On the basis that through the over-cultiva- < tion or straining of one department the rest J are neglected and injured, and the balance < between all destoyed, may not this over- J cultivation of memory prove destructive to 1 the end in view? ! What is the end in view ? I)o you desire your son to leave school or college a walking ( encyclopedia of facts and figures, very learn- 1 ed, indeed an infallible authority in the 1 family parlor, yet unable, despite the vol- 1 umes of memorial knowledge within him, to earn over ten dollars a week as the litera- . ry hack in some sterotyped department of a ' school book publishing firm ? ' * Or would you rather see him possessed even of fewer facts and more constructive ability?ability to make his knowledge use- 1 ful in building up a business; ability to se- 1 lect what knowledge he needs for that busi- ( ness and skill to apply it; in brief, ability [ to build his own bridges when he needs 5 them, rather than ever to be dependent on \ _i.i i :u ii o ] Ullltirs tu UUIIU Hit:III One sea captain, being shipwrecked on an uninhabited coast, may from the planks and timbers of his shattered vessel construct a craft capable of carrying passengers and crew to a safe port. A mere routine ^sea captain, in like situation and without constructive ability, is helpless. The first has the mind trained to learn and cope with new situations and emergencies. The second is trained only to walk over the bridge built for him by others. Should not education largely involve a capacity to love to learn new things, and skill in the art of learning all things, and this at any time of life? With such learn- ' ing, its power ever increasing by exercise, men and women would, having more confidence in themselves, cease less to fear fail- ! ures or mutations in business, and would also be less the slaves of circumstance or po- ; sition. Some men and women are youngerat sixty than others are at thirty. The first mentioned are ever learning, ever seeking, exploring, investigating. Nothing, where opportunity offers, is too great for them to attempt grappling with ; nothing is deemed so small as to be unworthy an effort. Study becoinestheir chief amusement. By study is not implied an incessant poring over books. Place them on shipboard and they commence "picking up" whatever belongs to maritime life or science; in the artist's studio their "dabbling," as some may contemptuously style it, grants them fresh interest and appreciation in art; at the theater, an aspiration for the stage, though never realized, still leads them to study, from the "front," the actor's methods even as they do those of the artist, enabling them to see and therefore enjoy the performance far more than the ordinary play-goer. So wherever they go they find some new interest, and each new interest is a new life. They love to learn, and find pleasure in the act and effort of learning. Annthpranrl miif*h larcrpr Mass a rp through I with all their learning, and a iarge portion : of active amusement by the age of twenty- i five. They "settle down" into a routine, set their faces resolutely against learning anything new, relegate all the more active recreation to the young, become plodders from house to office and office to house, get < stiff in the physical joints at forty, and i rusty in the mental ones at the same age, < and are, to all intents and purposes, "old 1 men" at fifty, whose talk is mainly of the i weather, who are about as entertaining in ' company as the clock, and who are more < endured than liked. < These can find no pleasure in the effort of i learning. Every step in such effort is irk- 1 some to them and becomes more so as they . advance in years. 1 Half the stimulus and vitality of youth 1 comes because that is the season for learning 1 new things. Boyhood is a period of inves- 1 tigation, exploration and study in games ! and sports. The world is new to the boy < because there are so many new things to ! learn. The world becomes old to the boy < and the boy soon also becomes old when he < imagines he has nothing new to acquire. i But what is the benefit of learning any- 1 thing at middle age or past it? \ It is the benefit of a healthy stimulation, i "When the faculties are ever on the alert to 1 acquire and appropriate all manner of 1 knowledge and skill there results a contin- I ual influx of power and new life both to 1 mind and body.' 1 "What is the use of my learning any- < thing not necessary in my business, or any- 1 thing which I may never be required to < practice ?" one asks. J One use is that mind constantly so exer- i cised acquires more and more facility in the < art of learning. Otherwise it grows rusty, < and worse, disinclined to seek or learn the 1 new. It loses more and more the art of ' making study an amusement. When all ] study becomes amusement to a man or wo- i man, the era for them of certain ultimate i conquest in all undertakings is reached, i A thousand dreaded difficulties and trials 1 vanish, since in each step toward the end 1 in view a new and interesting study is 1 found. 1 It is then that the dreaded interview be- ] comes also a subject of study. Such a i student having certain wares to sell, stud- i ina inot lir>/lu nf o??nrnur?li tn tho ?nrlpv thn f ICO 1UCUIUVIO Ui UJ/JJ4 vv/ V?iv. HW..VJ f v.v peevish, the supercilious, who in this world 1 hold the keys of the position they would deal with. Half the failures ot genius may be traced to the inability and dread of its possessors to meet and cope with the coarse natures and strong wills who hold the doors through which talent may enter and be seen of men or be altogether shut out of sight. To meet and cope with the world in this manner is a study and an art most profitable to acquire. An artist may paint admirable pictures, but he lives entirely in his studio. He dislikes to go into the world of business. He will not get into the outside world ; he will not try to cultivate the acquaintance of business men; he will not cultivate the art of making himself acceptable or agreeable to them or to any other than his own class. Result: He can not sell his pictures. He sees others finding a ready market for their works, possibly of less merit. Then he complains of the public lack of appreciation, and of "underhanded or illegitimate methods" in getting purchasers. Is not the artist somewhat responsible for his lack of success ? The world wants agreeable people as well as painters, and the world is very apt to treat those best who are the most agreeable. Our genius, shy, awkward and ill at ease among men, either puts himself out of sight in the background or . reates an unfavorable impression if he omes forward. Then, if rejected, he sad- j lies all the fault on the world, when that ault is his own through lack of realizing he necessity of learning more than one art, md also of loving that art in order to "get in" in the world. The artist fails since he can find amusenent but in one study.?Prentice Mn/ford, ii Boston Globe. The Colors of Horses.?The Arabs of Sahara are very particular as to the color if their horses. White is the color for jrinces, but does not stand heat. The black )ring good fortune, but fears rocky ground. Hie chestnut is the most active! If one ells you that he has seen a horse ny in the tir, ask of what color it was. If he repliet 'Chestnut," believe him. In a combaigainst a chestnut you must have a chests lut. The bay is the hardiest and most so>er. If one tells you that a horse has leaped to the bottom of a precipice without nirfinor himself Hsk r>f what, enlnr he was. md if he replies "Bay," believe him. Ben Dyab, a renowned chief of the desert, happening one day to be pursued by Saad el fenaty, turned to his son and asked, "What dnd of horses are in front of the enemy?" 'White horses," replied the son. "It is veil; let us make for the sunny side, and ;hey will melt away like butter." Some ;ime afterward Ben Dyab again turned to lis son and said, "What horses are in front )f the enemy ?" "Black horses," cried his son. "It is well, let us make for stony ground, and we shall have nothing to fear; ;hey are the negroes of the Soudan, who launot walk with bare feet upon the flints." Be changed his course, and the black horsis were speedily distanced. A third time Ben Dyab asked, "And now what horses ire in front of the enemy?" "Dark chestluts and dark bays." "In that case," said Ben Dyab, "strike out, my children, strike put, and give your horses the heel, for these might perchance overtake us had we lot given barley to ours all the summer through."?Daumax?"Horse of Sahara." Tom Corwin's Endorsement.?Speaking of recommendations to office, I have a * ? r\ _c al:* i^11n story wmcn uren. uenvtr, ui wmu, icns u* Tom Corwin, the great Ohio Senator. "Corsvin'sgood will,''said Gen. Denver, "was jnbounded. He would give a recommendition to any one and for any place. One lay when he was in the Senate and Merelith was Secretary of the Treasury, an office jeeker came to Corwin and asked him to endorse papers applying for an appointment in the Treasury. Corwin looked over them ind wrote a very flattering endorsement jpon them. The man applied for the place md failed to get it. In the course of time President Taylor died and Fillmore came into the presidency. Corwin was then made Secretary of the Treasury. The office-seek2T now thought he was sure of an appointment. He called upon Mr. Corwin, showed him his papers endorsed with Corwin's signature and demanded a place. Corwin looked at the papers and pointing to his own signature, said : "This is a strong endorsement, sir." The man nodded. "And did that not get you a place under the former Secretary ?" "It did not," was the reply. "Well! If that endorsement was not strong enough to get you a place under Secretary Meredith, it will certainly not be strong enough to get you one under Corwin. Good day, sir!" ALEXANDER III. The Romanoffs, to which family the present Czar of Russia belongs, have been the reigning power in that country since the 2arly part of the seventeenth century, and have indeed been the most conspicuous rulers of Russia since the Tartar invasion. The first of the Romanoff dynasty was Michael Fedorovitch, who was the grandfather pf Peter the Great, one of the most prominent figures in the world's history. The family also numbered among its members Alexander I, who was the first to break the power of Napoleon, and followed the latter to Paris. Upon the monument on the battle-field of Boradina is the following inscription: "Napoleon entered Moscow 1812, Alexander entered Paris 1814." Df this the Russians can be truly proud. Nicholas, the grandfather of the present Jzar, was one of the most despotic sovereigns. His character was stern, and he made up his mind with great rapidity and iiis opinion once set was inflexible. When the engineers consulted him as to the railroad to be built between St. Petersburg and Moscow he drew a straight line between the two places as the route. During his reign ;he great Crimean war was fought. Nicholas thought his army was invincible, but the result of the campaign learned him otherwise. It is said that he never recovered from the shock of the defeat, and in consequence died broken hearted. Alexander ill, the present Emperor and Autocrat of ill the Russians, succeeded to the throne ifter the murder of his father by Nihilist conspirators March 13,1881. Alexander III was born March 10, 1845, and since his elevation to the throne has seldom appeared in public, but has lived in the closest retirement at Gatchina. He was crowned at Moscow, March 27, 1883, amidst great pomp md splendor and the coronation exercises were chronicled even to the slightest detail jy the newspapers at the time. He is noted 'or his sympathy with the old Kussian par;y who are prejudical against all foreigners. Elis younger brother, the Grand Duke Alexis, visited the United States in 1871, and was eceived with the greatest eclat. The eldest child of the present Czar is a son, and ,vas born May 18,1868. A Squirrel and Her Babies.?Old citzens of Toledo distinctly remember the :ime when there was an emigration of squirrels in this vicinity. On a certain day a jentleman was on the banks of Ten Mile Jreek, when the number of squirrels movng was unusually large. Among the squir els was one that exhibited much motherly are and affection for her two little ones as :o prove a most interesting sight. She eached the bank of the creek where a crossng was to be made. The little squirrels vere quite timid about going near to the vater, but the mother coaxed them until :hey seemed satisfied to do as she wished. 3he ran along the shore, and finding a piece if bark about a foot long and six inches wide, Iragged it to the water's edge, and pushed t into the water so that only a part of one md of the bark was resting on the shore, she then induced her little ones to get on :he bark, and they at once cuddled closely :ogether, when the old squirrel pushed the lark and its load into the stream, and, aking one end of the bark in her teeth, lushed it ahead of her until the opposite lank was reached, when the young squirrels quickly scampered up the bank of the :reek, and the mother rested a few minutes, vhen the journey was resumod.?Toledo Blade. STORY OF A WAMPUM BELT. now COL. ELLICOTT KILLED A TURKEY AND SAVED HIS LIFE. There is in possession of the descendants of Col. Andrew Ellicott, of Lancaster county, Pa., a wampum belt of rare beauty and value, which is preserved as a memento of the shrewdness and skill of the great surveyor, by which he not only became the possessor of the belt, but saved his life and the lives of many others. Directly after the purchase of Louisiana from the French Govern; ment, Ellicott was sent by the United : States Government to survey the boundary line between the new territory and Mexico, : which then included Texas. He was ac: companied by a large corps of engineers and 100 government troops. They had penetrated into the interior of the then wild country, when one day Ellicott and hi9 engineer corps found themselves surround/-J L?t n 1 n mr?a k a/1 it aT TJln nlf^aaf T ?/H n n o Kif | cu uy it laigc uvuy ui i juujiviucl luuiniio, uv I whom the entire party was captured. Colonel Ellicott had a half-breed interpreter, who found out that it was the intention of the Indians to massacre the white captives, and he informed the chiefs that his master was a great medicine man, who could do many wonderful things, among them his ability to kill a man or any living thing at a distance of one hundred yards, while the object he shot was hidden from view behind a tree, and he would not aim at it or shoot through the tree. The chiefs said if the ; interpreter's master would kill a wild turkey in that way he would give the whole party their liberty. Colonel Ellicott was not a good rifle shot, but he was able to do' many clever things in shooting by means of mechanical tricks. When the decision of the chief was given they procured the turkey and told Colonel Ellicott to exhibit his power. Confident of his success, he drove a stake in the ground a few feet beyond the trunk of the tree with an axe. Tying the turkey firmly to the stake so it could not move from its position, he walked in an oblique direction to one side of the tree and struck the blade of hisaxe.apparently with no design, into the ground and then made a mark on it with chalk. Pacing off" . the loO yards he aimed at the chalk mark and fired. The Indian chief ran behind the tree and brought the turkey out dead, the ball, glancing from the axe, having passed clear through the body, with such nicety had Col. Ellicott calculated the angles. The principal chief was so delighted with the feat that he unclasped the magnificent belt he wore and fastened it about Colonel Elicott's waist. The surveyors were given their liberty and the belt worn by the Colonel insured him and his party safety and reverence during the remainder of the survey. EXPLORING AN ALASKAN RIVER. ? m * PL Ays OF LIEUTES AST 8TONEY Ay J) II IS PARTY. The year after the Jexinnette search steamer Rodgers was lost, Lieutenant Stoney, of the Navy, was sent to the Alaska coast to I distribute presents among the natives who Kfi/1 n i rl nrl tlift in 1 fa nau aiucu uic icvuiuu vutwi w? wi#? iu aw? search for the Bodgers. lie was for several months on an island near the coast, not far south of the mouth of the Yukon river. He | made excursions to the mainland, and disi covered the estuary of an apparently large | river. He explored the river 400 miles from its mouth, and ascertained enough to convince him that he had discovered a | stream which would rank among the great rivers of the world. A party of naval offli cers, under command of Lieutenant Stoney, will start in a short time for Alaska to explore this river further. A vessel is building in San Francisco for the use of the expedition. It will be a small steamer, with a paddle-wheelastern, similar to those used on the rivers of the South, and called the "ripple-kicker." Proceeding to Alaskaassoon as ! the season will permit, the party will steam i up Lieutenant Stoney's river as far as it i can in the "ripple-kicker." When rapids or other obstructions prevent further progress by water, the steamer will be laia up alongside the bank and left in charge of a ; boatkeeper, while the party pushes forward i on foot. All preparations will be made to winter on the banks of the river if necessary, and prosecute the work of exploration on sledges. It is probable that some of the ! outfit provided for the Greely relief expedition will be turned over to Lieutenant Stoney to be used in case his party winter in Alaska. The party will be a small one, composed almost entirely ot officers, who have been selected already, but who have not yet received their orders. Aside from i the building of the steamer little expense will attach to the expedition. The natives in the region through which the river is supposed to flow are friendly, and much assistance is expected from them in the work of exnloration. When Lieutenant Stoney ; explored the 400 miles of the river he found I the current in some places running at a rate I of twelve knots an hour. HE KISSEIMTHEM ALL. ' Ex-Governor Underwood, of Kentucky, I relates the following stumping reminiscence: "Kentucky is a great State," he continued, i "We have the handsomest women in the ! world; we make the best whisky, have the I most fertile lands, rai?e the best horses, and have the purest air. What more could be ! asked ? In addition to that, our people pull together, and they don't like snobbishness. I remember one time I was stumping one of the mountain counties. I bought $25 worth of nickles and put them in my saddlebags. Every log cabin I would come to I would ride up and ask for a drink of water. Well, out would come a little boy or girl with a gourd dipper of warm water. I would take a swallow and then drop a : nickle in the dipper. The little one would run in and I would go on. The child's 1 mother would come and have the fat gentleman pointed out. The consequence was that I got the vote of that house. Well, one morning I rode up to a house, and a little girl brought out a dipper of water. 1 felt in my pocket and discovered that I hadn't a copper. 'Little girl,' said I, 'generally I have a nickel about me somewhere, but I haven't to-day, so I'll give you what's the next best thing for a girl, and that's a kiss.' i So I got down from off my horse and kissed her for my own blue-eyed girl at home. Another little black-eyed girl here showed up, and I had to kiss her for a niece of mine whom she looked like. At this time anothi er little girl showed up, and half a head taller than the rest, and not to be impartial, I kissed her, when I found that four or five other girls had gathered and I saw that I was in for it. So, commencing with the smallest, I kissed each one. The change in stature was so gradual that I didn't notice that the last one was a full grown woman, and right handsome at that, until I had kissed her. Looking up I saw that there were two or three old ladies laughing at me, and thinking that I had made a bad break, I lifted my hat to the young lady and begged ! her pardon and explained how it was. She didn't seem to mind it much, but the old ' ' - i- L! 1 jauiesKepi jauguing, aim j. meu lucApiaiun when one of them said, 'Why durn it, jedge, she's Bill's wife.' Well, I thought, I'm in for it; that knocks out all my votes in this neighborhood. Well, I enquired in the next house who Bill was, and was told that it was i Buck Holmes, the hardest citizen in Carter ' county. Next day I had to speak at the j courthouse, and when I came up I noticed a gang of about twenty-five rough looking fellows off at one side, and a big six-foot fellow was talking to them and gesticulating with both hands. 'Who's that?' I inquired. 'That's Buck Holmes and his gang,' was the j reply. The cold chills commenced running I up my back, and I shifted my revolver around where I could reach it without trouble and then lounged up to hear what he was saying and get the lay of the land. "'Well,' I heard him say, 'if the jedge | don't ketch my vote. No snob thar, gentlemen. Jest as soon kiss a poor man's wife | as a rich one's.' That settled it. I got 150 more votes in that county than any other ' man on the ticket."?Pittxburg Dispatch,