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M? ? . - - ' .... i i i ... .. i. lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j ^n. |nbcpenbent Jamil# ftcfospaper: Jor % ^promotion of % political, Social, ^griralfural anb Commercial Interests of tjje JSoutjj. | TERMS-12.50 A YEAR, is ADVANCE. VOL. 31. YOEKYILLE, S C., THURSDAY, MAY 14, 1885. NO. 30. $be Jfotg idler. THAT DAY IN HIS BOAT. It was a wild night. The wind blew, the rain drove, the waves roared in the near distance. It had been a fateful day to me. Grand^ father Delmar, with whom I had lived ever since I could remember, had been carried to his final home that afternoon, and now I was the last representative of our name. The wide acres of the Delmar plantation, originally Qne of the largest estates on the * eastern shore of Maryland, had come down to me as sole heiress. To me also had descended the Delmar diamonds, which had blazed on the persons of the Delmar ladies. I say descended, but I am hardly correct, for these broad lands and these priceless jewels were mine only under the will of my grand father, and that will contained a proviso which I had just learned for the first time. J. was to marry Randolph Heath, the ward and adopted son of my grandfather, or else the entire property was to go to this selfsame Randolph. The Will had just been read. The funeral guests, or at least, the most important of them, had listened to it in the great drawing-room below, the walls of which were hung with portraits of my Delmar ancestors, handsome men and lovely, goldenhaired women. "Charlotte," said ray aunt, when, the reading of the will was ended?"Charlotte, ray dear, you must invite our friends for the night. You are mistress now." "I shall never be mistress of Delmar Hall, Aunt Mordaunt," I said, firmly. She clutched my arm, her eyes wide with wonder. "And why not, pray ?" "Because of the proviso. I will never wed Randolph Heatn." Her face whitened to the hue of death. She was a lone widow, and I was her idol; and she coveted all those jewels and rich acres for my heritage. For a moment we stood breathless. "But Randolph Heath's in Australia," suggested a friend, "and you are mistress at least until he returns." Poor aunty caught at this last hope with a gasp of relief. "So you are, my dear," she put in; "we'll leave all these disagreeable things to be settled in future. To-night friends, we will shut the doors against the storms and be comfortable." She swept off toward the glowing parlor, followed by her guests, while I fled away to my,own chamber. The afternoon, as I have said, had turned into rain and the waves thundered on the shores of the bay close by with a* hoarse cry, like a human heart in pain. I paced ray room restlessly. I could not marry this Randolph Heath, whose face I had not looked nr.nn &inrc> t.hp davs of in v earl v childhood. I could not do.it, for another face arose before me, in the face of the man I loved. A Eoor man, landless and unknown, yet who ad grown so dear to me in the few brief months of our summer acquaintance that to give him up was worse than death. Yet I was a Delmar, and it was a sore trial to lose my heritage?to lose the Delmar jewels. All the Delmar women before me had worn these matchless old diamonds; and must I, alone of them, be disinherited and dowerless? "Yes, cheerfully," I said, "since to keep them I must give up the choice of my heart. Dear, dear summer days!" . For it had been during a visit to a school 'friend, who lived in one of the loveliest counties of Pennsylvania, that I had met, the preceding June, Herbert Stanley. For the first time in my life I had found in him a perfectly congenial soul. We liked the same poetry, preferred the same music, admired the same scenery. Ah! what delicious days those were. We rode, we sailed, we walked, we read together. Our acquaintance soon passed into intimacy, and from that ripened into love. Never conld I forget the day, the blissful day, when my hopes became a certainty. Herbert had asked me the evening before if I would go with him in his boat. No knight of old could have handed me into the little vessel more reverentially than he did. How manly he looked! How strong and selfcontained! My heart beat fast, for something in his manner told me what was coming. hut I was inexpressibly happy, nevertheless. He rowed for about half an hour; then stopping, he lay upon his oars, and looking me in the face like a brave heart as he was, told his tale, though with many a hesitating word, and many a look of anxiety. . Should I give such a one up? Never! Yet the temper of my thoughts was such that I could not stay in doors! I left the house and ran down to the shore of the bay, having first thrown a shawl over my head. The storm and darkness was terrific, and the tide was coming in with a hoarse, sullen cry. The salt mist drenched ray hair, the winds tore and shrieked around me, and overhead hung the pitch-black sky. Suddenly I heard a step and, looking up, saw Herbert himself. I started with surprise. "I have been hovering about all day," he said. "I had given up hope of seeing you. But still I could not tear myself away." "You did not doubt me ?" I cried. "Oh! Herbert." My look, my tone, even more than my words, reassured him. "Thank God!" he said, drawing a deep breath. "Thank God ! It is not true, then, what I hear. You are not going to betray me?" "Betray you?" "I was told you were to be disinherited unless you married Randolph Heath, and that the temptation has been too great for you. I did not believe it. And yet, and yet?forgive me, darling, I see I was wrong?I was fearfully afraid." "Be afraid no longer," I whispered, nestling to his broad breast. "What are broad acres and gleaming jewels to your dear love ? I am yours and yours only." He bent and kissed me. After a while he said. "I do not fear for your fidelity, but I do fear for the persecution you may suffer. It is but a short walk to the little church. I know the rector; he was, I find, one of my old schoolmates. Be mine to-night and I will go away content. Not till you permit it shall the marriage be made public." "I am yours," I said, "but let it be tomorrow evening. I will tell my aunt in a day or two afterward. Poor aunt, it will , need that time to prepare her." It was arranged, therefore, that I should meet my lover at the same hour next evening, and with a parting embrace I hurried in, lest I should be missed. Aunt Mordaunt was in a flutter of excitement the next morning. She had just received a letter saying that Randolph Heath had returned and would be at Delmar Hall by sunset. "Now, Charlotte, my love," she said bustling into my chamber before I was awake, "do try and look your best to-night. You are a beauty, I know, but a charming toilet sets you off amazingly. Lay off your heavy crape just for to-night and wear that white silk with the lily-of-the-valley trimmings. You must fascinate this Randolph Heath at the outset; it will be quite comfortable to have him at your feet, for you must marry him, my dear; you are too sensible a girfto make a beggar of yourself." I only smiled in answer, and I suffered my maid to array me in the dainty silk. But at the set of sun, instead of receiving Randolph Heath in the parlors of the hall t ....... ,?i(h nr>\r Inupr t/iwarrt J. WilS SJJCCUlUg tvwc*j nun ? the old ivy-covered church, built of bricks imported from England a century and a half before; the church where the Del mars for five generations had been married. In the soft glitter of the early starlight we were wedded. An hour after I was home again. But as I ascended to my room I remembered that I had looked my last upon the blinking Delmar diamonds and the broad lands of the hall. I had hardly closed the door behind me when my aunt entered. "Charlotte, you must come down at once; you must indeed," she said. "Randolph is in the drawing-room and asks to see you. Don't be odd. Here, Lucile, do your young lady's hair." I stood uncertain. "And now, my dear, do put on your diamonds," continued poor auntie, fluttering round me; you should always wear gems, they become you." "But, auntie, the diamonds are not mine," I began, wishing time to think. "But they will be, my love, as soon as you marry Randolph Heath," she urged. "I shall never marry him," I answered. "We shall see, my love. At any rate, come down and welcome him. That much is due, at the least." This decided me. It was his due. As we descended to the grand drawing room where my grandfather's adopted son awaited us, I stopped for a moment on the stairs and gazed around me for a moment with almost a sigh of regret. In a few days I must go out from the dear old place disowned ana disinherited. Poor auntie, the blow will fall heavily on her. Shutting my*hand involuntarily over the marriage ring on my finger, I followed ray aunt, my heart in my mouth. A tall figure arose as we entered and advanced to meet us. I heard my aunt's warm word of welcome, and then I felt my own hands grasped, and looked up. I cried out in amazement, for the stranger was Herbert Stanly, my newly-wedded husband. "Can I hope that you will ever forgive me ?" he said, with a smile. "I am Randolph Heath. I have known of the proviso to your grandfather's will for years. But as I wanted you to love me for myself if you could, I planned to meet you last summer. Can you forgive me ?" I looked into his dear, kind face. "No matter who you are or what you planned," I answered, putting my hand in nis, I forgive you for I love you." Then we told the story of our marriage. Aunt Mordaunt listened in horrified amazement. "An indiscreet thing, to say the least, my love," she said; "you might have committed a grave mistake. It is all right, since you've married Mr. Heath. But really my dears, you must have a wedding. Yes, in order to preserve the presitige of the old name if nothing more, we really must have a wedding and marry you over again." And she did ; and it was a most magnificent affair. The old hall was in a blaze of light, and crowded with noble guests, ^nd I wore point lace and the old Delmar diamonds. But I was not half so happy as on the day when I first heard from my husband's lips that he loved me?heard it that day in his boat. wmmmmmmmmmmammmM REV. DR. S. D. BURCHARD. To the utterance of Rev. Dr. Samuel D. Burchard, at the clergymen's meeting held in New York city, do the Republican leaders now ascribe the defeat of James G. Blaine. When the words, "Rum, Romanism and Rebellion," fell from the lips of the Presbyterian divine, they were at once caught up by the Democratic managers. The extracts of the speech were immediately printed, and four hours from their com- j ingall the dead walls of New York and: Brooklyn were covered with them. This incident, coming as it did, at the | very eve of election, doubtless turned I things in Mr. Cleveland's favor; and when ! future historians come to write of the j Blaine-Cleveland campaign, the words, "Rum, Romanism and Rebellion" and the 1 author thereof, will surely have a conspicu- j I AIIU nlopo Dr. Burchard is president of Rutgers College, and at one time was one of the most fashionable clergymen in New York city. He was born on September 6th, 1812, at Steuben, Oneida county, New York. He was compelled, when a young man of 18, to seek a change of air for the benefit of his health, and accordingly went to Kentucky. He studied at Centre College, in that State, and duly graduated. He traveled through I the State as a lecturer, his principal topics | being "Slavery" and "Intemperance." In J 1838 he was licensed to preach, and the fol-! ! lowing year, May 1, 1839, was installed as j i pastor in New York city. Besides the degree of A. M., conferred by j the Centre College, of Kentucky, he was j honored by the degree of D. I). by Madison I University, of New York. In 1861 he was I i appointed chaplain of the American church I [ in Paris, and in 1866 made chancellor of the J Ingham University. l)r. Burchard was married in 1847, but Mrs. Burchard died in 1883. He is the father of five children, four of whom are living and occupy high positions in life. ; The great prominence given to his utter-! 1 ances has been the source of much chagrin to Dr. Burchard. and his age is ample excuse for the slip that he made. At the age of three score and ten men no longer form new ideas, but the old thoughts becoming chrystalized, crop out under trying situa-1 tions. Socially, Dr. Burchard is the very ! best of company, and is a most amiable di-j vine. i His ministerial career was formally closed I on Sunday the 3rd of the present month, | when at the morning service on that day he preached his farewell sermon as pastor of J the Murray Hill Presbyterian Church, New York. The subject of his discourse was the j I doctrine of universal sinfulness and justifi- j cation by faith. Man, he said, was con- j demned for one fault and no future work of; supererogation could atone for past trans-1 gression. At the close of his sermon Dr.; Burchard reviewed his whole ministerial career from 1839, when he went to New York from the seminary in Danville, Ky., j and took charge of the Houston street Presbyterian Church, where he remained pastor j for forty consecutive years. Murray Hill Church grew out of that organization, but j ( did not prosper as the old church had done, owing to'hard times. Dr. Burchard said! i the church now needed a younger and light- j j er pastor, who could climb any number of stairs and do missionary work. The trus-j j UI IIIC UllUIUIl JJiUWCU icnuiutiuuo (V IV it i ! nights previously stating that the only j j cause for I)r. Burchard's departure was his : ! age. He now leaves the ministry, at a I ripe old age, for Rest, Retirement and Re! flection. Wisdom dwells in blue skies and | broad sunshines, and the wide hills and the | infinite waters; in peace of mind and free-1 dom, and the worship of the earth. He is j poverty-stricken who is so absorbed in the one little enclosure of which he holds the j title deed that he loses his graps on the bending universe. J&xT "Goton your husband's cravat, haven't! you?" asked a neighbor of Mrs. Bilkins. "Yes," replied Mrs. B., sadly. "It is the) only tie there is between us now." 1 IpsccHancflus Reading. A PENNSYLVANIA WITCH. a oveer old woman living in the alleghant mountains. The bringing of law suits in a justice's court in one of the back regions of Lancaster county, Penn., by a young man against h:is mother, to recover damages for the loss of a dog which he claims she bewitched, so that it ran in a circle until it died of exhaustion, brought in notice the fact that there is an almost general belief of witchcraft, charms and magic spells among the farming population in those isolated localities; ana that there are many old women \irhrv oro rncmlflrlv r>nncnRprl hv vnnnp' aild old, and in whose arts and supernatural powers they put the greatest faith. At the trial or law suit mentioned, says a correspondent writing from Columbia, in that county, several of these "witch-women" testified in the case, and the curious and absurd beliefs they profess were given in-great detail. The principal one, and the one most sought for advice and counsel by the community for miles around is Barbara Fischer, who lives in the Dunkark settlement, five miles from Reinholdsville, in a small cabin in the mountains. She is eighty years old, bent and gray, but is still active and well preserved. She is a shrewd, cunning old woman and lives alone. She is so independent that she will take the case of no one who is a neighbor to her, or who she thinks lives in any large town, unless the applicant simply wants her to treat for a common ailment, requiring no "wonder working." A sufferer from hurts, fits, burns and similar ailments she will treat at once, and men women and children come from far and near to seek her aid. If a child is deformed, demented, or afflicted in any way, it is taken to Dame Fischer. If a farmer has a horse stolen, the first thing he does is to consult this old woman, and implore her to aid him in recovering the lost animal and detecting the thief. If there is trouble with cattle, if crops look bad, Dame Fischer's aid is the first thing sought. She stands ready at any time to extend her aid, and if she fails it is nnnm'mAiiolTT frv lonl" f\f faifh in rtlti 1UULCU uunuiuiuucij IV VI ? ? her on the part of the person she is working with. In her healing operations she has no medicines, but depends upon her "charms." Her "pow-wows" consist of breathing on the afflicted part, waving the hand over it, accompanied by a few muttered words. The conditions for operating are implicit faith, confidence in the operator and a strict following of her directions. She will then promise radical cure, and after over half a century of "wonder working" in that community she enjoys an almost universal reputation for infallibility. She is only one of many "witch women" who are consulted by their credulous neighbors. By far the most interesting feature of this backwoods healing art is that part which pretends to work magic spells, charms, curses, bad or good luck or objects of hate or love. The most of these women live alone. Each has a "mystery book," which is an ancient volume, printed in the German language, which is to be consulted when charms are to be worked. Old Mother Itoske, who lives near Iteinholdsville, had the entire farming neighborhood working every night for weeks in search of gold, and when they failed to find it she gave as a reason that some of them had a cow with blood in its horns, and until that could be found and killed and the blood drawn from the horn and spilled on the ground in the moon's first quarter it would be useless to look further for the treasure. The farmers spent much time trying to find such a cow among their stock, and in case a cow is killed in this vicinity to this day the horns are sawed off in hope that blood may be found. In answer to questions asked at the trial of the case of the old woman and her son, mentioned above, the following were given as some of the methods used by the witches in workingtheircharms: If a horse is stolen, the thief may be caught and the horse re1 ~ * - - 1 - ^ u.i? r?? 4.u^ covered 11 mere ue inree iiair* iruju uiu missing horse's tail found in the stall. The three hairs must be cut into equal lengths, knotted in the middle, and lighted at both ends. This must be done at sunset, while the hairs are held on a shovel near the stable. Whichever way the two ends of the hairs point or turn, as they burn, will indicate the direction taken by the thief. The stub ends are to be buried in the barnyard where the sun shines. This acts so upon the thief that he cannot go beyond a certain limit and involuntarily turns the horse back to the spot whence it was stolen. To make a well run dry ashes of witchhazel are forced into the mouth of a toad, which is then dropped in the well. Cows may be made to give bloody milk by obliging' them to trample toads under their feet. Dry cows may be made productive, lightning warded off, enemies bewitched, crops increased, and evils and blessings laid upon persons at will by these wonder workers by the use of similar charms, and they undertake all such jobs. They will guarantee to stunt the growth of a baby, destroy a rival's beauty, separate man and wife, settle lovers' quarrels, produce desired marriages or any other thing equally absurd on receipt of a fee for the purpose. In the potency of witch-hazel the wonderworkers chiefly rely. It is burned to ashes and the blossoms used. Young women carry its leaves in their bosoms as a love charm, and sleep with them under their pillows to make them dream of their lovers, but of the persons who testified in the lawsuit only one said he had never had a relative bewitched. The witness who testified in behalf of the person who claimed his dog had been bewitched declared that since he had sided with him his well had gone dry, his cow gave bloody milk, and his three weeks baby had refused to be suckled, and he expected it to die at any time. The justice of the peace endeavored to ridicule the idea of 4/x 4-Ka nrnconf hnf fho\r ? 1 IAJ1 ILi ill L IU 11IC wuv v.vj insisted in their belief, and he gave the owner of the dog a judgment of three dollars for the loss of the dog, the woman admitting that she had dosed it to death. Jefferson Davis at Home.?Joaquin Miller, the "Poet of the Sierras," recently visited Jefferson Davis at his home on the gulf, and thus narrates the impression produced upon his mind by the interview: Perhaps the most notable residence along this warm, sandy sea-bank is that of Jeffeson Davis. They call him President Davis here. They speak of him with great respect. .Jerterson Davis is not Deified at all, as some writers foolishly say. Hut, I rpeat, he is greatly respected. And when you bear in mind that there is not one of these 10,000,(300 people who did not put some sort of sacrifice on the altar of Southern opinion, you will not be surprised. This man stands as a token to them. Personally, I think they see little of him, those "gray old mothers whose sons went down in battle, those beautiful girls of the South whose fathers never came back any more: but they have their memories and their tradition. They call him President Davis, and will continue to do so while he lives. A great many Northern people visit Mr. Davis, and not all with the noblest motives. I am told that he has many more visitors from the North than from the South. JJCilll VUI1 IS 11UU IV JJcllt 111 1111*3 IWII^, roomy place, strictly speaking, nor is it a watering place, but an old plantation bequeathed to the great Mississippian not many years since. It is a beautiful spot among the pines and vines, but it is sadly dilapidated. Davis is a poor man, I am told, and can not afford to keep the place up. It is set a little back from the sea, and not too close to the railroad. Of course the desire to see this man, now in the last days of his tempestuous life, is irresisistible when almost within call. And, in spite of my former resolutions, I yielded. For it must be admitted that whether good or bad, whether entirely wrong or entirely right, this man has been and must forever remain, a collossal figure in American history, and to have seen and conversed with him is sweet to remember as the years go on. Mr. Davis, is at this writing, in poor health. I should say from what I nave seen, and then from the course of nature, too, with his three score and ten years behind him, that he will not long be a subject of either love or hate; for in spite of this kindest of climates he has found the winter terrible. He cannot survive another such. JUDGE WYUE?S COURAGE. ANECDOTE OF THE TRIAD AND EXECUTION OF MRS, 8URRATT. Judge Andrew J. Wylie, of the District of Columbia, who recently asked that the President appoint his successor, twenty years ago distinguished himself as a bold and fearless judicial officer by performing an act which brought down upon his head the ? ? ^ U I ft Mftlti'/utl ^Mi/in/ln n r\ censure ui muuy ui ms puuuuu im-uus nuu associates at the time. It was after the trial of the assassination conspirators, when all had been convicted and sentenced to be hanged, including the ill-fated or unfortunate woman and friend of John Wilkes Booth, Mrs. Mary D. Surratt. The latter's counsel had resorted to every known method under the law and by petition to secure a commutation of Mrs. Surratt's sentence of death, but in vain. As all must remember who read the occurrences of that day, the conspirators had been tried by court martial, and even the counsel for the defence of Mrs. Surratt (Hon. Reverdy Johnson, of Maryland,) had been objected to by the prosecution. It was necessary to resort to a desperate move in order to save Mrs. Surratt, or to even have her life respited for a few days. President Johnson was deaf. He even declined to give Mrs. Surratt a respite for a day to prepare to meet her God. Not knowing whether a Judge could be found who would dare do such a thing, yet Mrs. Surratt's counsel having a strong case and new evidence, drew up a paper and presented the facts, and determined to pray for a writ of habeas corpus. The crisis was a desperate one. The counsel called at the residence of Judge Wylie at 2 o'clock in the morning set for Mrs. Surratt's execution. They rang the bell. Some one came to the front window of the second story and gruffly demanded " wnans wanted r" .juuge wylie, partly dressed, came down stairs and admitted the two lawyers, who stood trembling in his presence. He, the Judge, turned on the light in the hall and looked at the document they presented. Standing there under the gas burner, Judge Wylie read the document through without a word, and then retired to a rear room for a minute. The counsel were in dread suspense. They could hear their hearts beat. Prejudice ran high in Washington, and it was not thought a Judge could be found who would issue a writ of habeas corpus for Mrs. Surratt. The Administration, President Johnson; the Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton; the Judge Advocate General, an excited army and navy, and an excited populace, demanded the hanging of Mrs. Surratt. Judge Wylie had not long been on the bench and had everything to lose and nothing to gain by issuing the writ. He returned to the counsel and said quietly, but firmly: ''Gentlemen, your points are well taken." He signed a writ to bring Mrs. Surratt before him that morning. After the writ was served President Johnson suspended the writ of habeas corpus. "This act of Judge Wylie was one that places him in the character of one of the boldest and most upright Judges of modern times," said a Washington lawyer in relating the incident. A Novel Temperance Society.?On the night of December 81st, 1883, three young men sat around a tavern fire in Georgetown, a little village in Connecticut. They were intoxicated, and were watcning me oiu year out. As the clock struck twelve, one of the young men said: "Boys, the new year is here ; now let's swear off and form a temperance society." The others in a spirit of fun agreed. The articles of the association were then and there drawn up. They were similar to the rules of other temperance organizations, with one exception. The clause containing the pledge had the following penalty attached : "And any one of us who shall drink any intoxicating liquor for any purpose whatsoever, between now and midnight of December .'list, 1884, shall be tarTed and feathered." This clause becoming known, gained the club the name of "The Tar and Feather Temperance Society." Meetings ol the society of three were frequently held. Gradually applications for membership began to pour in, and before six months had passed the society numbered thirty members. The year of abstinence expired on New Year's eve, and a grand ball was given by the society, to which a large number of the best people in the place were invited. The hall was filled. At midnight the president announced that the pledge had expired. By a unanimous vote it was renewed for another year, and some twenty names were added to the roll. The peculiar penalty attracts much notice, and the matter is the talk of 1 the whole neighborhood. Nearly every I resident wears the society's badge, which is ' a blue ribbon with a lump of tar filled with : chicken's feathers attached to it.?JTearth | and ITull. Played It on The Doctor.?"But the thing that puzzles me," says a prominent physician, is to correctly diagnose the ailment of a boy. 1 was called up the other night by a frantic father, who hurried me from my blankets half dressed to see his dying boy. "When I arrived at the suffering patient the whole community was about him. I saw that his was a violent attack of diphtheria, and I found it hard to say that it was not a dangerous case. I remained some ' A- ?II -I .. time ana tnen ieit, promising iu am cany in the morning, which I did. I approached the house with more trepidation than is my wont, because I knew if he was worse, as I feared, that I would have in his mother a case of uncontrollable hypochondria. I went to his room. The bed was vacant and my heart sank. "He is dead, I thought, and they have taken him into the parlor and laid him out, I surrounded by the decorations of the room, i I approached the parlor with velvet tread, j and going to the darkened window opened i the blind. As I did so I looked out, and ! there he was in his bare feet, bare-headed, ! with his trousers rolled up above his knees, l 'playing horse' in the street in a pool of cold slush. He looked up at me, shut one eye and called out, 'Hello, Doc, mamma's gone to the matinee. She said you could leave your stuff on the dressing case.'" ? -* Outdoor Life.?Man seems planned for outdoor life in a mild climate, with just a leaf or two of shelter for a rainy day. His nature will bend for a time to the conventional burdens of an artificial civilization, but replant him on first principles the outdoor garden of life and his recuperative forces will rebound with elastic energy of steel springs relieved. Our lasmonaoie friends would lose caste were they to use their neighbor's second-hand clothing, but they will daily try to purify their own j blood with their neighbor's second-hand or i ten-times used breath, poisoned as it always i is, even when exhaled by young and healj thy persons. Man, in common with other I warm hearted creatures, generates a surplus i of heat within his body. Outdoor sleepers I find that no matter how cold thesurroundj ing air may be, if dry, enough of the I outflowing heat may be held back and rej tained by suitable clothing to sustain the i vital functions in health and comfort. Uni til domestic art can supply our lungs with j cool, first-mortgaged air, in warm rooms, I its votaries will have an important problem to solve. In the meantime out-campers and hovel dwellers will wear the best jereated blood in the land.?American Home. BENEFITS OF LIFE INSURANCE. i llOir IT IMPROVED RILL EYE'S COEDITIOX j ' JJV LIFE. ] I look upon life insurance as a great com- i fort, not only to the beneficiary, but to the | ] insured, who very rarely lives to realize j 1 anything pecuniarily from his venture. 1 Twice I have almost raised my wife to afflu- i ence and cast a gloom over the community j s in which I lived, but something happened I to the physician for a few days so that he j could not attend to me, and I recovered, i For nearly two years I was under the doc- ] tor's care. He had his finger on my pulse or in my pocket all that time. He was a i young Western physician, who attended me Tuesdays and Fridays. The rest of the week : he devoted his medical skill to horses that were mentauy ana pnysicany uruKtjuuuwn. He said he attended me largely for my society. I felt flattered to know that he en joyed my society after having been thrown among horses all the week that had much greater advantages than I. My wife, at first objected seriously to an insurance on my life, and said she would never, never touch a dollar of the money if I were to die, but after I had been sick near- i ly two years, and my disposition had suffer-1 ed a good deal, she said that I need not delay the obsequies on that account. But the life insurance slipped through my fingers somehow, and I recovered. I have built up two life insurance companies and placed them on their feet since that. I hope they will not forget it when I come to call on them for a favor. One of them is an "old liner" and the other is an assessment company. I took a policy in the assessment company because I had been in politics j some, and when I went out I missed assessment sadly. I had become a slave to assessment habit and so had to do something in order to supply its place. I now feel firstrate. When I get my assessment notice I ' I imagine I am an officeholder and that it is a billet doux from the central committee, so it is like old times almost. Life insurance is a good thing. I would | not be without it. My health is greatly im-: proved since I got my new policy. Form- i erly I used to have a seal-brown taste in my ( mouth when I arose in the morning, but ( that has disappeared entirely. I am more hopeful and nappy, and my hair is getting i thick on top. I would not try to keep a house withoutlife insurance. Last September I was caught in one of the most destructive cyclones that ever visited a republican form of government. A great deal of prop- j erty was aesiroyeu hiiu lunuy uvea ?wci lost, but I was spared. People who had no insurance were mowed down on every hand, I but aside from a broken leg I was entirely ( unharmed. Since insuring ray life I sleep better of , nights, and my neighbors are getting more reckless about leaving their watermelons , and clothes lines out over night. If I had a voice that could be heard on the other side of the Soudan, it would still be for good, solid life insurance. In thes'e days of dynamite and roller rinks and the gory meat axe of a new administration we ought to make some provision for the future. j CARE OF*THE HANDS. It is perhaps more difficult to find a pretty hand than a pretty face, not that we are born with an uglier hand than face, but because the hand becomes coarse and rough from the work it has to do. Curiously enough, also, less attention is given the hands than the face, although they really require more care, precisely on account of their exposed position and the hard work they are frequently called upon to do. And yet a white and delicate hand is very charming, and worthy of quite as much attention us the face, if not more; and even a cook may have less coarse hands if she will by always using glycerine or honey after washing her hands, and by never using coarse, yellow soap, but a little bran or oat meal, (which one can keep in the soap stand) instead of soap, and which will clean the hands quite as well as soap and keep them soft at the same time, whatever may be the amount of work she may have to do, and to whatever exposure to heat and cold the hands may be subjected. The same precautions may be adopted by ladies, who occupy themselves with any rough work in the house, and moreover they should all wear gloves, which will, more than anything, keep the hands soft and clean, and thus dispense with the necessity of too frequent washing. Many ladies, however, who never do any kind of work have coarse red hands, especially during the cold weather, and they make them worse and redder by holding them to the fire, causing them, also not unfrequently to crack and chap. Better rub them with a little lavender water or eau de Cologne to restore warmth and aid to make them more delicate and soft. I would, moreover, advise ladies who have naturally rough, coarse hands to rub them at night with cold cream, and to wear loose, long gloves. Another thing, never use soap, unless this be used with almond paste or meal. It is better, in any case, to use only almond paste or honey and almond paste, which you can ; procure already prepared at any of our j great perfumers. The only objection to i these pastes and meals for the hands is their j expense, but economical ladies can dispense i with them by using glycerine and honey | instead of almond paste, and plain bran and oatmeal instead of almond and fancy meals. Should the hands become hard or horny through any unusual work, the best thing is to wash them for the time with pumice stone and lemon. Lemon, indeed, is always good for the hands. It cleans them as well as soap, and makes them soft. It ; also prevents the skin growing up the nail, j if the fingers be well rubbed with it after I washing. Apropos of nails, never use a 1 pick or file to them. Clean them with a ( I brush, if required, but they should never ! be allowed to require a brush, nor will they ! I require one if the hands are frequently j | washed and the fingers well rubbed with the half of a lemon, into which the fingers I are thrust and turned until the nails are per-1 fectly clean. Lemon not only prevents the | skin at the root of the nail growing upward, j but it also prevents the skin shedding at the sides of the fingers. When cutting the ' I nails, care should be taken to cut them the i shape of the fingers themselves and neither j longer nor shorter than the finger. Very long pointed nails are as ugly in their way as very short and square nails. The use of cold cream and gloves at night will also preserve the nails soft, and prevent them from cracking, which they will do if the > nails are not hard.?Exchange. Tjik Religion Demanded bv the Times.?"The world needs a religion to-day 1 that will make a man's word as good as his : note; that will make its possessor pay one | hundred cents on the dollar, sell sixteen j: I ounces to the pound, thirty-six inches to the j < yard, four pecks to the bushel, and one hun- i i tired and twenty-eight cubic feet'to the cord; | that will make a workman do a full day's j: [ work for a full day's pay, whether the eye ; of his employer is upon him or not; that1 | will make capital disgorge the lion's share of all profits and divide them equally and j I justly with labor; that will cause the manu-1 nuoon frrvm oel 11 Hornti nor hie ornnrtv: ! : UlllUICl Kl VVIWV ?uu<vv.?..u(3 | theclerkfrom purloining from his employer, j the official from embezzling the funds com- j mitted to his trust; a religion that will make men honest, upright, pure and trustworthy in all the walks of life; a religion I that not only makes men happy, but also j makes them righteous." A Bold Preacheii.?The boldness of; Samuel Davies will be illustrated by a sin-1 gle anecdote. When President of Princeton j college, he visited England for the purpose j of obtaining donatious for the institution. The king (George II.) had the curiosity to hear a preacher from "the wilds of Ameri- : ca." He accordingly attended, and was so much struck with his commanding eloquence, that he expressed his astonishment loud enough to be heard half way over the house, in such terms as these: "He is \ wonderful man! Why, he beats my bish-, 3p!" etc. Davies, observing that the king1 was attracting more attention than himself,! paused, and looking his majesty full in the face, gave him, in an emphatic tone the following beautiful reproach: "When the j lion roareth let the beasts of the forest trem- j tj ble, and when the lord speaketh, let the kings of the earth keep silence." The king ? instantly shrank back in his seat like a uj schoolboy who had been rapped on the head by his master, and remained quiet during the remainder of the sermon. The next Ql, clay the monarch sent for him and gave ~ him fifty guineas for the institution over which he presided, observing at the same time to his courtiers: "He is an honest man?an honest man." Not one of his ' silken bishops could have dared to give him such a rebuke. I ^ i 111 i bi b< tl COLONEL JAMES M. MORGAN. ai Col. James M. Morgan, who was appoint- pj ed as Consul-General to Australia, by Presi- o dent Cleveland, on April 18th, 1885, is by si birth a Louisianian, and is the youngest of tf five sons of the late Judge Thomas Gibbes rn Mnroron Hp wn<5 nnnoiritp<l tn fi Carlotshin ri in the Naval Academy at Annapolis, before pj he was twenty years of age, and shortly n< after made acting midshipman. Upon the te outbreak of the "late unpleasantness" he entered the Confederate service and became lieutenant on the Alabama. Shortly after g. the close of the war he was married to a daughter of Mr. Trenholra, who had been a qj member of Jefferson Davis' Cabinet, and settled in South Carolina. His wife dying, 0, he went to Egypt in 1870, and entered the c.f service of the Khedive, on the staff of Gen. g. Loring, having been endorsed for that posi- v' tion by Gen. It. E. Lee and others, under ai whom he had served. He was considered 0| the most finished horseman in the Khedive's C( army, and his feats were admired by all. a] At this time George Butler was our Consul- u General to Cairo. The two became bitter enemies and the feud ended in a quarrel in j] Washington, which resulted in the chastise- a] ment of Butler. Col. Morgan has visited aj every part of the world, and Australia is as 0l well known to him as Greenland and Ice- jc land. He converses fluently, in several lan- e( guages, and is well fitted for the responsible position to which he has been appointed. 'e\ Mr. Morgan owes his appointment in a great g measure, toF. W. Dawson, of the Charles- g ton News and Courier, to whom President e( Cleveland owes much for his ardent support ? in the Convention and during the campaign, g Besides this he had the endorsement of Sen- tj ator Hampton of South Carolina, Senator tl1 Gorman of Maryland, Hon. R. F. Merrick 'n and other prominent Democrats. tj President'sSecrktaries.?Private secretaries in the past have generally been political nonentities. The first private secretary of whom we know anything was Tobias Lear, who served under Washington, and r. it is said that he and the great General used ? to walk up and down the streets of Philadelphia, in daily promenades with all the , dignity in the world, but as silent as deaf mutes. Thomas Jefferson had a secretary P' named Edmund Bacon, whom he was very 'J sorry to part with when he became bank- ^ rupt during the latter part of his career. ^ But his private secretary at the White House '. was Meriwether Lewis, a vouner man of no ? especial importance and "of so little note j " that at this date he has been entirely for- j ^ gotten. j When Andrew Jackson came to Washington as President, he brought with him his " adopted son, Andrew Jackson Donelson, to act as his private secretary, and Mr. Donel- ;r son's wife was made mistress of the White H House. When the scandal in regard to Mrs. General Eaton, the pretty tavern keeper's daughter, began to agitate court circles, Mrs. . Donelson sided with Peggy Eaton's enemies, ? and, though she received Mrs. Eaton at the White House and treated her very well there, she refused to visit her. Old Hicko- , ry expostulated, and on Sarah Donelson still refusing to go to see Mrs. Eaton he told her P he thought she had better go back to Ten- ^ nessee, and go she did. Her husband went with her, resigning his position as private secretary. The two for the following six J.1,1 months spent their time at the Hermitage, * and Jackson appointed Nicholas Trist, a 9 clerk in the State Department, to take the . place of his son. At the close of the six months the President pardoned his son and he was taken back into his old place, and , Sarah Donelson resumed her reign as the first lady of the land.?Cleveland Leaflet'. A Common Mistake.?It is a common mistake to regard the term negro as synonymous with African. The word negro does not denote a nation, but an ideal type constituted by the assemblage of certain physi- j1 cal characteristics exemplified in certain jj' portions of Africa and their descendants in c? America and the West Indies. In Africa . the area occupied by the genuine negro men j1 with black skins, thick lips, depressed nose and wooly hair, is exceedingly small, com vnunA *a*?4-U 4-Ksn wArvtnin/1oi? nt* tlio AAnfInonf tl JJiUCU Willi liic iciuaiiiuci \/i ills luiiviijvuw As a rule the prevalent color in Africa is r( that of the Arabs, the Indian and the Aus- C( tralian. The true negro districts are the Senegal, the Gambia, the Niger and the in- P termediate rivers of the coast, parts of Sou- t'! dauia, Sennaar, lvardofan and Darfur. ,r People, who are certainly not negroes, in- 01 habit the whole coast of the Mediterranean, *1 the Desert, the Kafir and Hottentot areas " south of the line, Abyssinia and the middle ,r and lower Nile. This does not leave much ; territory for the typical negro. It is generally admitted that the negro intellect is in- ti ferior not only to the European but to that of 111 the lighter hued African tribes, but it is superior to that of the Australians, Bushmen tr and Esquimaux. That the active influences of freedom and civilization will materially c? advance the status of this peculiar race, is a w hope indulged in by philanthropists and P1 statesmen. Time is the very essence of this c'* great problem.?Atlanta Constitution. A Newsboy Asks the President for w an Appointment and Gets It.?The w President had a caller yesterday who was h successful in his mission, although he was but tl twelve years old. Many persons will recall su a hric-ht. active little fellow who has been ta selling newspapers here for several years, tl who came from Brightwood every morning s\ and returned at evening with the results of hi his energy to help support a widowed moth- sr er with five children. After repeated ef- fr forts he succeeded in obtaining an audience 1> with the President yesterday, and these T facts were brought out. He manifested a ai willingness to work and told the President w he was capable of doing as good service as bi any colored messenger in the treasury de- tl partment. All he wanted was a chance, In and would the President help him? This b; kind of talk pleased the President, and he e< did not hesitate a moment in giving him m a note to Secretary Manning requesting an w appointment for Master Lee, the little fel- ci low's name.? Washington Post. in THE ATMOOR. nESCItlPTIOX of the ideal desekt win en is xative to eoyft. Atmoor is the name the Arabs give the ;terly barren kind of desert. This is truly ie ideal desert, consisting mainly of hard avel plains diversified by zones of deep nd, rocky ridges, sometimes of considerae altitude, and rugged defiles. It is absolutely destitute of all vegetation, id consequently of animal life. Only the itrich and hyena cross it swiftly by night, id the vulture hovers over the caravans / day. Not a tree, not a bush, not a blade ' grass, relieves the glare of the sunlight ion the yellow sand. No one can resist the solemn impression deep silence and infinite space produced / the desert. When night nas come and ie soldiers and Bedouins are asleep in the \mnnn? wnlU- aivnv iinrlpr thfi linonuftlled frican moon beyond the first ridge of sand rocks. Around you stretches the boundss sea-like horizon. The sand gleams alostas white sis snow. Not a sound falls pon the ear, nor the murmur of a breeze, it the rustle of a leaf of grass, not the hum 'the smallest insect. Silence?only silence? > profound as death, unless it is broken by le howl of a prowling hyena or the distant >ar of the king of beasts. Within the limits of Egypt and theSouin these desolate atmoors extend over iree-quarters of a million of square miles, sver trodden by the foot of man. Only few caravan-trails cross them in their irrowest parts, with scanty wells at long itervals; and the necessities of trade can one account for their being penetrated at I. They are like oceans, where caravans iss each other in haste, like vessels at sea. The marches are perfectly terrible, and ?t it is worse to halt during the day than ? keep in motion, for the heat makes sleep j rest impossible, even undercanvas. Witn ' le burning sand under your feet and the jrtical sun over your head, you are as 2tweenthelidsofanoven. In summer the lermometer rises to one hundred and fifty id one hundred and sixty degrees. The air that blows feels as if it had just issed through a furnace or brick-kiln, ver the plains it quivers visibly in the m, as if rising from a red-hot stove, while le mirage mocks your senses with the lost life-like images of lakes, ponds and ppling waters. Were not the nights comiratively cool (eighty degrees in summer), mon mah onimolo nnnlH Dnrlnro fVio isiuii^i man uui auiuiam uuuiu v^uuuiv mv rrible ordeal.? The Century. # ? -? Symptoms of Hydrophobia?The first mptom of hydrophobia is a sulky disjsltion. The dog slinks away under a bed lounge when in the house, or into the irkest corner of the kennel, or under an ithouse, and tries to escape notice. When tiled out he comes unwillingly, and goes ick as soon as possible. He is very nerous and frequently rearranges his litter id skulks about from one corner to an;her. His eyes show the change that is >ming on. Hogs sick with any disease re apt to seek dark corners, but in hydrohobia they are invariably restless. The ext symptom is temporary hallucination, [e seems to hear something, and jumps up tid runs to the spot, or snaps in the vacant ir as if for a fiy, or stands in the attitude f expectation. Thissymptom is often over>oked, or if noticed, is ignorantly suppos:1 to indicate a return of health. Another ,'mptom is a depraved appetite. He ceasj to take his natural food, and swallows its of wood, old leather and all kinds of 1th. The voice of the dog is thfen changJ, becoming hoarse and lower in tone, beinning with a single open bark, followed y three or four diminishing howls from le bottom of the throat. The saliva which t first is abundant, dries down and becomes >py. The dog tries to clear it from his iroat, and acts if he had a bone fast in his ieth. Many people have been fatally bitin when trying to help a dog get the im*inary bone out. Following this comes ie Daroxvsrns of furv which cause him ) fly lit everything he meets and death fol>ws from exhaustion if the disease is aliwed to run its course. A common and dangerous error about hyrophobia is that the dog cannot and will ot drink water. The dog drinks frequentr until the fatal paroxysms are upon him, id even when he is unable to swallow he ill thrust his nose deep into the water in is fierce desire to drink. He will often bey his master and receive and give car?sses until the last stages, and will even lbmit to punishment when liable at any loment to fly into an ungovernable fury. The poison will not usually remain inacve more than three months in an animal hich has been bitten by a mad dog; but nquestioned cases are on record where annals have gone mad eighteen months after ley were bitten. People dislike to kill ivorite dogs; but safety demands that an nimal that has been bitten by a strange or ispicious dog should be killed.?New York MM. A Dog Miser.?Dandie was aNewfoundind dog, belonging to a gentleman in Edi'nurgli. It frequently had money given it, ecause besides other proofs of sagacity, it ould go to a baker's and buy its own bread, ut Dandie received more money than his eeds called for and he took to hoarding it. his his master discovered in conseauenee f the dog appearing one day with a oreal> ist roll when it was known that no one had iyen him any money. Suspicion aroused, sarch was made in the room where the og slept. Dandie appeared quite unconirned until his bed was approached, when e seized the servant by her gown and ied to drag her away, and became so vio>nt that his master had to hold him. Sev ipence-halpenny was found hidden in the Btl. Dandie did not give up his saving cen after this; but he showed a great diske for the servant who had discovered his oard, and in future was careful to select a ifferent place of concealment. Stories of dogs who carry money to shops 1 order to obtain food are quite numerous; Lit the following incident, which wascommnicated to the Bristol Mercury, is, if aulentic,probably unparalelled even in canine icords. A Bristol dog was allowed by a irtain butcher to receive his meat on trust, le butcher scoring each pennyworth suplied on a board with a piece of chalk. One ay our canine friend, observing the man lake two marks with the chalk instead of le, seized another piece of meat, and, de>ite all the efforts of the butcher to detain im, ran off home with both pieces in his louth. ? ? A Manitoba Postmster.?The populaon around us chiefly consists of half-breeds rul Indians, with h sprinkling of English >ttiers. They are most hospitable, but exemely rough and dirty and uncivilized, ur post-office is four miles away and we in send off and also fetch letters once a eek. Let me describe the interior of this Dst-office one day when I had occasion to til there. The postmaster is a very rough anadian;his wife is a half-breed, a tall, iindsome woman. When we drove up she as out of doors in the snow chopping fireood. Her lord and master was sitting in ' ' ?ill. is oniy aown-siairs room, wnn ins jeei. uu ie stove and a pipe in his mouth. In the mie room which was bare of carpet or euriin and contained the family bed, were iree little children, a boy aged seven, vearing lustily; a girl about five, sucking er fingers, who began to howl as soon as I )oke, and a baby of two years, seated in a ying pan on the floor, engaged in carefulr wrapping up his bare feet in a dish cloth, heir mother followed us into the house id promptly seized the handle of the pan ith the aforementioned cloth. Next she roke about a dozen eggs into the pan, fried lem and, having made tea and produced er solitary tea-spoon, she invited my husmd and myself to partake, or as she phrasI it, to "sit in" with the family. It is eedless to add that, after what I had just itnessed, I declined the hospitality as graously as J knew how. This is my nearest eighbor.? Winnipeg Letter. 4