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lewis yi.grist, proprietor. | 3,tt Ifnbtjplttnf Jfatnilg fUfospptr: Jor % promotion of f|c |3oliticaI, Social, ^jriralfural attb Commerdal Jitfcrcsfs of % Soutj). |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 31. YORKVILLE7S. C., THURSDAY, JTJME 4, 1885. 3^0. Site $torg Idler, reuben! It was a legacy from the father who had died before Reuben was ten years old and left him to the care of Uncle Josiah, the brother of Reuben's long dead mother. The strongest memory Reuben retained of his father was . a mind picture of a white haired man sitting up in bed with the beloved violin in his hands, filling the poor atticroom with sweet sounds. He was partially paralyzed even then, and later, when his fingers became helpless, his heart broke ana he died. Then Uncle Josiah came from the country to the great city, and took the lad home. At LUC UUllUUi Cl Liiv na.lL u mm wummukja all Reuben's possessions, were safely stored the violin and case, with a score of music the dead musician had left his boy. On the farm in Jersey Reuben found a rough, kindly welcome. Aunt Polly cried a little over the orphan; Sue and Jennie, kindly maidens, kissed and caressed him, and Daisy, whose blue eyes were like twin violets, stole shyly up to the dark-haired i lad and slipped a slice of cake into his hands. It was a busy hive, the old farmhouse, where no drones found place. Uncle Josiah disapproved altogether of the violin.. Never had he heard of a fiddler plowing a field or raising stock. Never had he seen any practical good come from scraping a catgut, and more than once instant destruction was threatened to Reuben's one pleasure. He grew afraid to raise the sweet sounds he loved, inside of the farmhouse, and would steal away to practice the lesson his father had taught him, by the brook side, in the whispering woods or the shady lanes. Nobody loved his violin but Daisy. Daisy would softly touch the string and listen with parted lips and shifting color when Reuben woke the spirits of music with his bow. Sue and Jennie did not object to a ?ood lively dance tune; but only Daisy would follow Reuben into the wood where dreams floated into the sweet melodies, and the bow and string talked in music's own language. Daisy alone knew of the lonely walks with the dear companion; and Daisy's lips would quiver and her blue eyes fill when the boy whispered in her ear of his heart hunger. Years passed by and the boy became a man. "Scarcely worth his salt," Uncle Josiah pronounced him, and yet loved him well, for his gentle obedience, his willingness to perform any task however distasteful. "A dreamy gawk in everybody's way," Sue and Jennie said, but saved the choicest bit of dainty country fare for Reuben. "A poor weakly body," Aunt Polly said, and her touch was soft on Reuben's hair, while she sighed gently, convinced that the pale, thin cheeks would never grow round or rosy, but "likely rest under the daisies," she thought, pityingly. Only Daisy really understood the sensitive nature, the tender heart, the starving, longing intellect. Only Daisy grieved when the long, delicate hands blistered and bled over rough work, and would never harden. Only Daisy, as maidenhood came, shrined Reuben in her heart of hearts, and knew no other could ever take his place. Only Daisy filled Reuben's heart! Of all the rough life around him, there was only one gentle influence to keep his heart from breaking. The fair, blue-eyed girl, with hair like floss silk, alone understood him tvhen he talked or the dooks ne naa Dorrowed from the minister, and eagerly perused. Daisy alone kept him from the utter despair of heart loneliness. So these young hearts, in eleven long years, learned the story of mutual truth, mutual dependence, sympathy, tenderness and devotion, which we call love. On the day when lteuben was twenty-one he told Uncle Josiah he loved Daisy, and Uncle Josiah sadly shook his head. "You'll never be able to keep a wife, Reuben," he said. "Never! I love Daisy too well to trust her to you. Why, just look at it, lad ; you've never earned a full day's wages since you came to the farm. If you'd give up your foolish fiddling, uow, you might make something of yourself, but as long as your heart is in that sawing and scraping you'll be good for naught else. It's my advice to you to smash the fiddle over the first rock, and then I'll talk to you j about Daisy." Break his violin! Destroy his dearest friend, his sole comfort! But for Daisy?1 What would he not do for'Daisy ? Perhaps Uncle Josiah was right. Perhaps, if he had no outlet for the dreams that filled his soul, they would cease to haunt him, and he would conquer the mazy routine of farm drudgery that was such a heart-breaking problem to him. Perhaps, when all the phantoms that broke into reality upon his yiolin were driven away, he would be the practical farmer to whom Uncle Josiah would give Daisy. Musing thus, very sorrowfully, Reuben took the violin from its case and went to the woods, to an opening the country folks called the fairy ring. Here he sat upon a stone and played his farewell, a dirge of hope. Great tears fell over his pale cheeks as the weird melancholy strain echoed through the space around him. Then he wrapped the violin once, twice in his arms, kissed it tenderly and lifted it high in the air to smash it on the rock. But his heart failed him. His arm dropped nerveless at his side, and he stood motionless, looking at his father's legacy. Suddenly there stepped into the opening j an elderly man, gray haired and dark-eyed, and dressed in city cut-attire. "So you would smash your violin?" he said. "You had better sell it, or, better still, play on it. Was it you I heard playing as I came through the woods?" "Yes. I was bidding my violin farewell." "H'm! Play again for me." Gladly Reuben lifted his violin and drew the bow across it. "I will play you the 'Carnival of the Birds." he said; and there rose upon the air such a twittering chorus, here a saucy trill, there a busy chirp, then a roulade, till the very air seemed alive with songsters, j while under all a sweet melody throbbed , and melted into the softest strains. "This is the 'Brook's Hymn,'" Reuben j said, and the rippling stream was mocked | and echoed in faint, fantastic music. "Who wrote these ?" the stranger asked. ! "They were never written. They came : from my heart," was the quiet reply. "I will play you some written music." And again the violin obeyed the bow, as j the works Reuben had studied from his father's music rose upon the summer air. "And you were about to break your violin ?" the stranger said. "Yes; for I can never be a farmer while my brain is full of music," was the sad reply. "Ah! Y'ou wan't to be a farmer, then. Would you not rather be a musician ?" Reuben's eyes glistened. Long he and the stranger talked, and the sun was setting when he turned his face homeward. "Uncle Josiah," he said, when all the chores were done and the farmer rested on the moonlit porch, "if in a year I can bring you proof that 1 can support Daisy, will you give her to me?" "I will," was the hearty reply. "Have you broken your fiddle Reuben ?" "No, and 1 am going to leave you to-morrow. I have been offered work in the city." "Work in the city ! Well, lad, it may be you are too peaked for farm work and will find it easier there. But remember, if you fail, there's always a home for you here, Reuben." lteuben grasped the hand stretched out to him in his long, slender lingers and his sobbing "God bless you, sir," came from his very heart. Not even to Daisy did he tell his new hopes, but bade her be faithful and whether he succeeded or failed he would return at the end of the year. When he took his place in the stagecoach for the railway station, his new friend, met in the fairy ring, was by his side. Little Daisy kept her heart true. Every market day when the farmer came from town with his great wagon empty, he took from his pocket a letter from Reuben for Daisy, and everyone was hopeful. His work was pleasant and was paying him well. Some of the letters were dated New York, some Boston, some Philadelphia; and when winter came Reuben wrote from all the great cities, even Nfew Orleans, and Daisy's heart throbbed high with loving delight to feel sure his love was true amid the gay scenes he described, the new friends he met. ' Winter sped away, spring blossoms bloomed and fell and the end of the year was drawing near. A letter came to Uncle Josiah "Will you bring Daisy to New York," Reuben wrote, "and judge for yourself of my prospects?" And Uncle Josiah, after long consultation ? ' ^ 11 Witn Aunt roiiy, uunciuueu iu gu. -i-rotay had a new dress of soft white muslin made and bought a dainty straw hat in the village. Then uncle Josiah wrote to Reuben by what train to expect him and the journey commenced. Reuben was not at the depot, but in his place was a courteous gentlemen, who explained to Uncle Josiah that his nephew was detained by business, took the travelers to a hotel where their rooms were engaged and waited while they had supper. Then telling them he would take them to Reuben, he put them into a carriage and drove rapidly to a white building, whose wide hall was brilliantly illuminated. Here well-dressed men and ladies in full evening toilets were entering in crowds. Reuben's friend led Uncle Josiah and Daisy to a seat in the brilliant hall near the platform, and told them Reuben would come soon. In Daisy's hand he put a programme and she wonderingly read of the musical treat in store for her, only vaguely comprehending it all. On every side the buzz of conversation bore the name of the great L-?, the famous violinist, whose Cremona seemed gifted with speech under the touch of his inspired fingers. It was like a dream. A white-robed lady came upon the platform and sang, a gentleman played a solo upon the piano. Then there was a great noise of people clapping their hands and stamping their feet, fairly bewildering poor country-bred Daisy. A great hush, and softly, familiar as a mother's voice, there fell upon Daisy's ear the notes of a violin, bearing out upon the air the melody of Reuben's "Carnival of the Birds." She looked up then and met the soft, dark eyes of her lover watching her face as he ?... W/m?* rtAnAoo ctrinrro \Fnf o UrtJW JUS nun BV.1UM unu dumgai iiuw I. sound but the music of the wondrous violin broke the stillness of the vast room, where one man's genius kept the crowd spellbound. It was over, and the great violinist bowed and was gone. Again the deafening, tumultuous applause, and Reuben was back again, playing an air unfamiliar to Daisy, but seeming to answer all the deep joy of her soul. Twice Reuben played, recalled each time, and then the concert was over, and their escort led Uncle Josiah back to the carriage, Daisy clinging fast to his arm. At the door of their private parlor the new friend bade them good-night, and opening the door they stood face to face with Reuben. Not the pale, sad boy of a year ago, but a man, self-reliant, glad and noble, one who had found his life-work and was doing it well. Uncle Josiah found the strap of his glove most unmanageable while Reuben clasped Daisy in his arms, and low, tender words fell from the lips of both. But when Reuben, clasping Daisy still, held out his hand, the farmer grasped it hard. "No doubt I was an old fool, Reuben," he said: "but I'm not too old to learn." And Reuben, over the dainty supper that was presently served, told them how his violin had won his fame and gold?more than Uncle Josiah had imagined a man could earn in ten years. "I have an offer to go abroad, Uncle," Reuben said, "and if I accept it I sail next month. May I take Daisy ?" "Yes, lad. You've kept your promise? I'll keep mine." "You are my guests this week, and then I am free till we sail, so we may go home for the wedding," Reuben said. And Uncle Josiah, with inward misgivI ings about the boy, yielded to Daisy's pleadj ing face and consented to the argument. A week of sight-seeing, shopping, intense happiness, with three of the concerts where Daisy's heart was divided between love and pride, and then away to the farm. There was a quiet wedding, and Aunt Polly wept over the long separation to come, but the little bride had no misgiving when she turned her face from her old home I . ' * - -.!AL T 1 ro cross me wiue ocean wiui ner nusuunu. And Reuben, in his greatest triumphs, when crowned heads were bent to listen to the voice of his genius, would ever turn his eyes to where, in some quiet corner, he knew Daisy, too, listened to his violin. Drinking Coffee.?From Abysinia coffee drinking appears first to have become known in Persia, where it is mentioned in records as early as the year 87"). From the kingdom of Shah the use of the beverage extended to Arabia and Egypt, and in the beginning of the fifteenth century it was no longer a novelty. In Mecca, in 1511, its use was placed under ban by the Governor, Chair Beg, who thought he discovered in the exhilarating drink something prohibited by the Koran; but to make matters sure, he ordered an eclesiastical court to determine the question. Presiding over the deliberations of this solemn body were two learned Arabian doctors?the brothers Hakimani?who declared, in the scientific phrase of the time, that coffee was "cold and dry," and therefore objectionable. The black drink consequently was formally anathematized and the prophecy was made that all coffee drinkers would appear on the judgment day with faces blacker than the coffee pots out of which they had drunk the poison." The coffee parties of the praying dervishes and the non-praying Mussulmen were broken up, the cotfee houses were closed, the stock of coffee in the hands of merchants were committed to the flames and everybody who was discovered with the prohibited drink was bastinadoed and ridden face backward upon a donkey. But this severe law was not approved by the Sultan at Cairo who, himself as well as all the inhabitants of that imperial city were inveterate coffee drinkers. In 1530 the new beverage was commonly used in Constantinople, and in 1551 the first public coffee houses were opened in that city, fitted up with J every appliance of ()riental comfort. These soon were called the "schools of knowledge," but they became at last the scene of so much political discussion that the sultan, Murad the II, deemed it wise to close them for a time. It was not till 1045 that coffee was introduced into Italy, and seven years afterward a Greek, Pasqua by name, established the first coffee house in London. In 1658 coffee was first handed round after dinner in France, and in 1071 the first coffee house was started in Paris by an Arminian. At that time a pound of coffee cost 140 francs, or about 818, and naturally, in those days, at this price the consumption was ex tremely limited. ? ? ? What we call the sterner virtues alone cannot make a good character. The man ; of integrity who is cold, or hard, or unatniable, is as far from moral goodness as he is from moral beauty. He who prides himi self on being righteous and forgets to be kind is not truly righteous. We cannot ! analyze character and parcel out some parts | of it to constitute moral goodness and others l to form moral beauty. Each is wrapped up in each, and only together can either main' tain a healthy life. t Miscellaneous leading. A BRAKEXAN'S EXPERIENCE. It was a darap, foggy night in early spring, and I was one of the crew which had 1 in charge a "wild" freight, which we had been most of the night?for it was nearly , morning now?in getting an insignificant distance toward our destination. We had , been side tracked several times for trains to pass us, the last time for several hours, so , that when we got under way and thought everything was clear for a good run. it was only about an hour before daylight?the very darkest time in a very dark night, however. I think 1 never saw a blacker, thicker atmosphere than we had that night; even the lanterns could not be seen more than the length of a half dozen cars. When we got under headway I started to go up to the engine for something, and was groping my way over the tops of the cars very cautiously?for it was dangerous work, on account of the darkness, for even an experienced brakeman, while I was green and awkward?when happening to throw the light of my lantern down between two cars, I saw a dark mass of something against the end of one of them. I stopped to look closer, and swinging my lantern between the cars saw it was some poor fellow stealing a ride. He had his hat pulled down over his face, and, more asleep than awake, was keeping in an upright position by clinging to the steps used for getting up on the car. The light I had thrown about him and the noise I had made roused him up. When he saw he had been discovered he put the best Eossible face on the matter and expressed is determination to stay on the train until we reached the end of the route. I told him that he could not do this and we soon got into an angry dispute. He then climbed upon the car, and as he did so I moved to the other end. In this position we continued our war of words, he, meanwhile, standing very close to the end of the car. I soon concluded to leave him and find out of the conductor what should be done. I did not like his impudence and knew that somehow we would have to get him off the train ; but with the indications of brawn and muscle i 1 T J:J Wflicn lie pusstrsjseu, ? uiu uunaic auuui ting into close quarters alone on the top of a freight car. As I was about to move away the train gave a lurch as she struck an imperfect rail, which almost threw me off my feet. At the same time I saw my unwelcome passenger make a wild grasp in the air, as his body swayed backward with the shock through which it had been so hard for me to keep my position on the car, and as dimly as I could see his face the expression of horror and fright was one of the most painful sights I ever saw; then he uttered a wild shriek, and half swinging around on one foot upon which he was trying to balance himself, he fell headlong out of sight between the cars. One more piercing wail reached my ears, and then all was drowned in the roar of the on-speeding train. It was not a manly thing to do, I am aware; but I fainted on top of the car. It must have been about half an hour afterward, for itwas by this time daylight, when I came to and began to realize what had happened. As soon as possible I got back to the caboose and detailed to the conductor what had occurred. By this time we were ten or twelve miles from the scene of the ac- 1 cident, so he said: "We're running wild, and if we go back and pick up the remains of that fellow it'll ' take an hour. The only thing I can see that we can do is to go on to the next station and send for orders." This wedidand got permission from headquarters to run back. The train had to back down, of course, ! and when we came within a couple of miles ! of the point near which we supposed we would find at least a portion of our man, the train slackened its speed and the conductor and myself began to keep a careful watch along the track. Presently from a clump of blackberry 1 bushes, in the comer of a rail fence, some one sang out: "Gents, if you'uns cum clean back here fur me, I simply want to say thet I 'predate it. 'Tisn't every road'd do it. I ain't no pressin' engagements at the end o' your line; but I 'predate your kindness in comin' back fur me, anyhow!" We peered in the direction indicated by the voice. There, upon the top rail of the i fence, with one leg thrown over the other, ' ana caimiy smoKing a snort, pipe?u picture of impudence?sat the fellow we had expected to gather up in fragments, safe and sound, scarcely a scratch worse off than when I first saw him between the cars. The conductor grasped the situation at once, and our train was soon again going forward. His feelings were so outraged to think the man hadn't been killed?hadn't even been hurt?that he did nothing but heap abuse upon me until we got our train in ; and I believe he considered me as great a criminal because the accident did not prove fatal to the fellow as though he had been killed and I was the direct cause of it. It seemed to me that I was an entirely innocent participant in the incident; but every one appeared to think that by all laws of nature the man ought to have been killed, and that I, somehow, was the cause of the thing missing fire, and was not to be trusted in consequence. So a few days later I got my discharge.?Detroit Free Press. THE STOKY^OF THE SHOES. Everybody in the world was barefooted. There were no new shoes in the stores, no old ones in the attics. There was none at , all in the whole wide world, and probably no stores or attics either. In those good . old times, when all feet were bare, a man could step on his neighbor's toe without bringing on spasms of agony, for bunions , were unknown. "Stubbed toes" were common, but on land nor sea not a single corn existed. Finally, somebody?whether man or woman nobody knows?made a pair of shoes. Not of calf-skin, with high heels, foxed toes and polished uppers; but flat, rough "foot mats" of woven reeds. These, when tied on with leather thongs, kept the feet i from the burning sands. More and more people wore these queer ,'foot-mats," till there were hundreds, and thousands, and hundreds of thousands of pairs in use. For every day use they were light and strong. Some were gaily colored, and bound with fancy thongs, and those of; the soldiers were iron bound, with strong nails in the heels, and often whole soles | of copper. In the days when all shoes were I ( new, and before the' people had begun to 11 J-V,? * 1CA/1 IA?? /llIOAH I pillUll Ulirn liic^ vvcic uoc;u iwi i purposes. If a man purchased a piece ! of land he threw a shoe over it as a sign of! ownership; if he entered a house he re-1 moved his shoes as a sign of respect. There is an old story of a shoemaker of j Rome, long years ago, who thought he j; must become a preacher. Taking his son he started out to tell the heathen of France j and Britain about Christ. They were very | poor, so they paid their way by making h shoes. Very nice ones they made, and found plenty of custom. For a long time they followed these two trades, till at last j j in savage Britain, they were martyred. < And to this day the twenty-fifth of October, j ( the day upon which Crispin was killed, is j called St. Crispin's day, and every shoe-!' maker in the world is called a son of St. Crispin. i For hundreds and thousands of years peohad been wearing shoes of all kinds of . leather, wood, and reeds; brass bound, iron bound, gold bound; with wide, blunt toes, with narrow, pointed toes a foot long, but ' the right foot and the left foot were exactly ! the same in shape. About the year 1780 aj man invented rights and lefts, which was L a step in the right direction. Eighteen j years later a man named Joseph Walker in-1 vented the shoe peg. Before this, all the : shoes had been sewed by hand, a long slow j process; but now they were pegged. So popular did shoe-pegs become that thirty great manufactories were devoted to mak ing them in Massachusetts alone; and s( many were made that some speculator: bought up many bushels and tried to sel them for oats. Inventors now be^an to construct al kinds of curious machines for makingshoes Great buildings were erected, machinery put in and thousands of pairs turned ou every day, millions every year. If one hac sharp enough ears, and could listen, ant hear the clatter of the millions of wooder shoes in China, Japan, France and Holland the softer thud of the leather shoes in ou: country, in England and other parts of Eu rope, the click of the sandals in the sleeps lands of the East, the swish of the snov shoe over the Canada snow-crust, or th< ring of the fourteen foot shoe of the Jemdt land winter hunter, what would thes< sounds tell ? Would the footfalls say to th< listner, ''These busy feet are all bound or an errand of mercy ? Over the hill, througl tne vaney, in sieep ana uangerous piaces those shoes do not slip or falter or tarry t< do wrong? They belong to earth's warri ors who are shod with the preparation o the Gospel of Peace?" Would this be th< answer for them all? Alas, no! In th< broad way are mi^ny, many feet hurryinj on to death. Clogged and heavy, weari with sin, they stumble on, blind, reckless lost. Little shoes, strong, willing, eager to di right, beware of the first step out of thi narrow way. There are mountains to climb deserts to cross, rivers to ford; but littli shoes, little feet, if you listen to the genth voice that said "Follow me," you may oni day tread the streets of gold in the heayen ly city.?The Little Christian. HON. JOHN GOODE. The Solicitor-Generalship, to which th< Hon, John Goode has been appointed, i considered as second only to a Cabinet posi tion in importance. The Solicitor-Genera assists the Attorney-General in the perform ance of his general duties, and by specia provision of law, in case of a vacancy in thi office of Attorney-General, or in his absence exercises all of these duties. Except whei the Attorney-General otherwise directs, hi and the Solicitor-General conduct and argui all cases in the Supreme Court and the Cour of Claims, in which the United States ar< interested. Mr. Goode was born in Bedfon county, Va., May 27th, 1829. He studied a Emory and Henry Colleges. He studiec law at Lexington, Va., under the tutorshii of W. Brockenborough, and in 1851 was ad mitted to the Bar." "Daring this year he wa sent to the State Legislature, and subse quently re-elected. When the Southeri States seceded, he was sent to the Constitu tional Convention, and afterwards enterec the Confederate army. He was elected t< the Confederate Congress, whilst serving ii the field. Settling at Norfolk, Va., after thi close of the war, he soon became known a an able lawyer, and established a lucrativi practice. He was elected to the 44th, 45tl and 46th Congresses, and was sent to thi Democratic National Conventions of 186! and 1872. He was President of the Virgin ia Electoral College, and cast the vote o that State for Cleveland and Hendricks. + ^ ? Happiness a Habit.?Every permanen state of mind is largely the effect of habit Just as we can perform an action so continu ally that it becomes to be habitual, so w< can encourage conditions of mind till they too, come to be habits of thinking, and evei of feeling. Every thoughtful parent or teacher recog nizes this in the training of youth. Thi child constantly thwarted, scolded or ridi culed, has constantly aroused within hin feelings of resentment, or discouragement or misery, and these grow to be habitual and a character for ill-temper or morosenes or despondency is formed. On the other hand, the child who is wisely treated, whose faculties are brought into ac tion, who is encouraged to do well, who i, surrounded with cheerful faces and orderly arrangements, becomes accustomed to cor responding habits of thought and feeling. The exercise of self-control, of truthful ness, of honesty and other essential quali ties, not only results in habitual feelings o states of mind induce those actions. So thi nnrulitinn which call hanDiness is like wise acquired to a considerable degree. I involves within it many things, but thej are not impossible to secure, and when w< have discovered them it rests with us to en courage or to discourage them. Happiness is not only a privilege, but j duty, not a mere outward good that ma> perhaps come to us, but an inward posses sion which we are bound to attain. Whei we remember the contagious character o happiness, the strength, courage and hope i excites by its very presence, and the powe; for good that it exerts in every direction we cannot doubt our obligation to attain a: much of it as possib\e.?Philadetphia Ledger ??? " * Some Famous Old Maids.?Look at tin list. Elizabeth of England, one of th< most illustrious of moderen sovereigns Her rule over Great Britrin certainly comprised the most brilliant literary age o English speaking people, ller political ac urnen was certainly put to as severe tests a: that of any ruler the world ever saw. Ma ria Edgeworth was an old maid. It was this woman's writings that first suggestei the thought of writing similarly to Sir Wal ter Scott. Her brain might well becallet the mother of the Waverly novels. Jam Porter lived and died an old maid. Tin children of her busy brain were "Thaddeui of Warsaw," and "The Scottish Chiefs,' which have moved the hearts of million! with excitement and tears. Joanna Bail lie, poet and play writer, "was one of 'em.' Florence Nightengale, most gracious lady heroine of Inkermann and Balaklava hos pitals, has to the present "Miss" before hei name. The man who should marry hei might well crave to take the name of Night ingale. Sister Dora, the brave spirit of Eng lish pest-houses, whose story is as a helpfu evangel, was the bride of the world's sor row only. And then what names could tin writer and reader add of those whom tin ^reat world may not know, but we know and the little world of the village, the church, the family know, and prize be yond all worlds.?North British Advertiser. Chinese Mandarin?"You American! are very smart, but you are not consistent.' American Citizen?"In what way ?" " Yoi spend millions of dollars sending missiona ries to us." "That is true." "And the ob jeet is to fit us for the kingdom of Heaven.' "Yes." "But still you refuse us a residence in the United .States. Now, explain that.' "Well, you see we are afraid if you go t< nnnntw */"v I i VP Vflll Will (TPf. illtn AWlfiF ican politics." "What of that?" "Tha would unfit you for the kingdom of Heav en."?Philadelphia Call. t&r- Never ridicule sacred things or wha others may esteem as such, however absurc they inay appear to you. ) A DETECTIVE ON CRIMINALS. a 3 b 1 THE TROURLE IX TAK1XG THEN FROM ONE v FART OF THE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER. c "The majority of people imagine that be- ^ \ cause a man commits a crime his whole (] j. nature changes and he becomes a reckless p 1 and desperate character," said Deteetiye ? j Larkins. a j A critical glance at the detective revealed ^ the fact that he very much resembled the p p other men who follow his calling in New ? . York, at least as to the big mustache and e , general air of prosperity. If a New York j f detective is divorced from his big mous- 0 a tache and his snug-fltting sack coat with ^ I the lapels well turned back he is disguised, j. a "I have in my time made journeys a e ^ good deal with criminals; that is, I have v j gone to points distant from New York, and ^ 1 taken fogitives to the home authorities. v After every tri p of that sort men have asked f, 5 me whether I had much trouble with the c . prisoner, and they seemed surprised to learn t f that men are still sensible after they coma mit crimes. The last man I traveled with a was arrested at Niagara Falls, and I traveled 'T from that point with him to New Orleans. $ * It is a long trip, and the prisoner was want- r ed for a $10,000 embezzlement. If the man \'* hadn't been a fool, he might have been en- ^ 3 joying the money yet. He was a small ^ B clerk in New Orleans, and it was his custom r to make out checks for the cashier to sign. ^ j'. Occasionally the cashier would sign blank c a checks and allow the small clerk to fill them a g out with small amounts, like $2 or $3, for in- a stance. One day the small clerk took one { of these small checks, filled it out for a nice v little $10,000, and took the first train for a Niagara. As an illustration of the lax man- ( ner in which business houses trust their s clerks, I may mention the fact that this same ^ clerk had swindled another business house f out of another few thousand dollars in the ? same way. The youth took his $10,000 and c went to Niagara Falls, and painted the Falls j pea green. He was a very popular young \ man around there for a time. He gave philopena presents of diamond lockets and c the like to every young woman of pleasing <. exterior on either side of the Falls, bought t out the local jeweller, and spent about \ $2,000 in a week. His popularity was at its v highest point when I arrived. I found the c most popular man of the neighborhood on c the Canada side whooping her up joyously. c I told him he was wanted in New Orleans f and he looked pained. Then he brightened j up, said he was on the Canada side and we v couldn't get him. I said it was only a s matter of time when the Government would r give him up for forgery and he might as c well save the Government needless expense. ^ He didn't know, you see, that he was want- r ed simply for embezzlement and not for a forgery. Had he known it he would have been secure on the Canada side. r "T +nllras1 urith Viim half nn hnnr ?nrl , X LU1XVCU IT 1 VU AWBAA <IUi A MM v. ^ then he walked across the bridge, and we a Kutup at a hotel on the American side. I e ad him watched and went around to see e 3 the philopena girls. In less than a day I e " recovered all the jewelry, except a locket, j. 1 which a girl that lived at Port Huron had c ' taken home with her. Then I lighted a e 1 cigar and sat down by the bedside of that a 2 interesting young criminal while he slept, j '? He enjoyed his sleep with calm repose. He g 1 arose the next morning and ate a hearty a 2 breakfast. Meanwhile I was so fagged out q 2 myself that I couldn't eat a mouthful. Then j ^ the criminal and I got into a car and start- t 2 ed for New Orleans. All that day he smok- v 3 ed and enjoyed himself, and I watched him. j J Of course I did not dare to go to sleep. a 1 That night I made him take all his clothes c 3 off and get into an upper berth. I sat on j " the edge of a lower berth with my clothes x 3 on. This made two sleepless nights. The f " criminal was healthy and enjoying him- j 1 self. The following night I put him to bed s ! again, and sat on the edge of the berth un- j 1 til we arrived at New CIrieans. When we 3 got off the train I looked like an abandoned 3 and dissipated housebreaker, and he was as C 2 fresh and rosy as the morn. It just shows " 3 that it is no trouble to take care of crimi- o 2 nals on a journey. r 3 a a The New Type-Setting Machine.? t A Washington letter says: "The machine v ^ type-setter, as it is called?it should be a termed a stereotyping machine?is being t visited by many people at Chamberlain's, t t where it has remained on exhibition since t last night's dinner. It is a wonderful piece s 'I of mechanism, and is destined to revolu- a a tionize the business. A small gas engine 1 operates a number of these machines, one ? \ of which occupies a space 4x6 feet and does t the work of ten compositors. In appear- i _ ance it resembles a mammoth type-writer, t a the keyboard being arranged in exactly a r I similar manner. The operator sits at the c j board, and with the copy in front, plays f the keys. The dies, instead of stamping s ' paper, are impressed on heated type metal, a g which as fast as each line is completed, i3 e cut off and automatically passed out in a f , galley. The operator, working leisurely, t . can turn out a column of minion of the size t 3 of the Washington Post every hour. . "This machine obviates the use of type in t . the printing business, and does away with 1 the compositor of to-day. The work ceases t to be laborious and unhealthy, and the cost 1 to the business is reduced about 80 per cent, i r Machines are made of different sizes of im- I a print, and the plan of the company is to F I lease the machines?not to sell them?at I" t rates that will guarantee this reduction of 1 , expense. The prospectus states that the S g cost of type-setting in the United States 1 comes to $60,000,000 per annum, and that the substitution or this machine will reciuce i the cost to $10,000,000. * , "When it is considered that in addition r to this the outlay for purchasing type is ^ 1 entirely obviated, one can form an estimate f f of the influence of the machine upon the t printing business. The capital stock of the * r company is to be increased to $10,000,000, ^ and factories are being established." ? J # # o 3 Horses in Battle.?War horses, when " hit in battle, tremble in every muscle and J 3 groan deeply, while their eyes show deep ll I astonishment. During the battle of Water- n loo, some of the horses that lay upon the " \ field, having recovered from the first agony P f of their wounds, fell to eating grass about J1 them, thus surrounding themselves with a j! circle of bare ground, the limited extent of. 0 . which showed their weakness. Others were a j observed quiety grazing on the field between a j the two hostile lines, their riders having " been shot off their backs, and the balls fly- u j ing over their heads, and the tumult be- e ? hind, before and around them caused no ? a interruption to the usual instincts of their * * nature. It was also observed that when a P ? charge of cavalry went past near any of the 11 ? stray horses already mentioned they would " . set off", form themselves in the rear of their ? > mounted companions, and though without 15 riders, gallop strenuously along with the e ' rest, not stopping or flinching when the P . fatal shock with the enemy took place. r r At the battle of Kirk, 174">, Major Mc- 0 Donald, having unnorsed an English officer, took possession of his horse, which was \ I very beautiful, and immediately mounted p it. When the English cavalry fled the S( i horse ran away with its captor,notwithstand- v j ing all his efforts to restrain him; nor did it r( stop until it was at the head of the regiment v \ of which apparently its master was com- p ^ mander. The melancholy and, at the same q time, ludicrous figure which McDonald pre- a sented when he saw himself the victim of ^ his ambition to possess a fine horse, which v ' ultimately cost him his life upon thescaf- ^ j fold, may be easily conceived. n Tobacco.?The following; on the effects of ? the use of tobacco Is from l)r. M. Souvelles' b 3 International Prophylactic Record: o ? "Tobacco belongs to the class of narcotic a ) and exciting substances, and has no food c . value. Stimulation means abstracted force, d t It involves the narcotic paralysis of a por- ti . tion of the functions of life. It will be said & that tobacco soothes and cheers the weary & toiler, and solaces the overworked brain, t Such may be its momentary effects, but the 1 sequel'cannot be ignored. All such expe- a dients are fallacious. When a certain tl mount of brain work or hand work has een performed nature must have space in diich to recuperate, and all devices for esaping this necessity must fail. It is bad olicy to set the house on fire to warm our lands by the blaze. Let it be clearly unerstood that the temporary excitement roduced by tobacco is gained by the deduction of vital force, and that it contains bsolutely nothing which can be of use to he tissues of the body. Tobacco adds no potential strength to the frame. It may pur a weary 'brain or feeble arm to undue xertion for a short time, but its work is estructive, not constructive. It cannot add ne molecule to the plasm out of which our odies are daily built up. On the contrary, t exerts upon it a most deletreous influnce. It does not supply, but diminishes ital force. That tobacco causes functional isturbances, no one need deny, and it pould be very remarkable if continued unctional derangement did not lead to hronic diseases of the organs. Indeed, a remor of the nerves is a chronic nicotism." "MAJOR .TONES." One of the personages about Washington luring the war was Annie Jones, who origilally professed to have ran away from a loarding-school in Boston to "follow the Irum," and who attached herself to the leadquarters of General Stahel, the comnander of a German brigade. A flippant alker, she ingratiated herself into the favor if the General, and received an honorary ppointmentas a member of his staff, and ,s "Major Jones," became an institution in he army. She ate with the General, drank vith the General, rode with the General on ,11 his hazardous forays, chatted with the Jeneral, nursed the General when he was ick, fought the General's battles when she leard him aspersed by jealous undertsrap?ers, and when night drew the starry flag iver the heavens, she slept with her beloved olored maid in the next little tent, which he General had assigned her. She thus ived and flourished. Her orders were wont to be obeyed, beause she was recognized as a staff officer. She always had the countersign, and could ?ass the picket at pleasure. She was said o be a girl of great dash and daring, and vould frequently venture out beyond the iutposts, and for days watch the movements if the enemy, and bring in whole budgets if information from the rebel camps, as >roofs of her stewardship and shrewdness. Cvery one knew Major Jones; officers vould doff their hats, and privates would tand at full "present" as she rode by in nilitary feminine dignity. The visiting ifficers from other commands were introluced to Annie, and admired her, and she eigned supreme as tl\e "she-major of cav lry." When General Hooker marched into Mayland and Stahel was relieved, Miss Major Uinie shared her fortunes with the young ,nd gallant Custer, with whom she reraaind, retaining her rank and title until a genral order from army headquarters renderd it necessary for him to dispense with ler valuable services, and the Major was ompelled to search for a field of usefulness Isewhere. For a few days she wandered bout the camp, having no particular abid' - a n.i ng place or continuing city, unui ^oiuuei iharpe, then acting provost-marsh'al-gener.1, thought the interests of the service retired that she should be removed to Washngton. Accordingly a pass was granted her o travel as far as the military railroad vould carry her and a sergeant of the Ninety-Third New York was detailed to .ccompany her. to guard against any acident on the way. Arriving at Washingngton she stopped at theKirkwood House, vhere she sometimes appeared in staff uniorm and then in fashionable female attire, t was believed that she was a Confederate py in the Union secret service.?Boston budget. Youth of Ferdinand Ward.?The 'aledonia, New York, Advertiser says: 'Strange things happen in this world, but >ne of the strangest in this century was the nanner of Gen. Grant's ruin and by such ,n instrument as Ferdinand Ward. During he lapse of time between 1861 and 1876, vhile Grant was winning world-wide fame ,s a soldier in the field and as President of he United States, the person that was desined to drag him in sorrow and misery to he grave was an unpromising Geneseo tripling, a youth without honor at home ,nd unknown outside of the village limits? n short, a good-for-nothing young bummer, .pparently without a single qualification hat would mark him as one likely to win n future life so much as a nod of recogniion even from the mightiest soldier and nost illustrious citizens of the United States ?f his day. Andyet, if thisyoungscallawag lad been shot in one of his ribald sprees or truck by lightning, Gen. Grant would in .11 human probability have been rich and njoying moderately good health to-day, or however obscure Ferd. Ward was as a ioy, there was a certain devilish, latent alent there for cunning and wild speculaion possessed, perhaps, by no other human leing, and, as it happened, those peculiar [ualifications were so directed as not only o hoodwink, deceive and ruin the unsus>ecting Grant, but men of ripe experience n financial affairs. Had a soothsayer apleared in Geneseo twenty years ago and iredicted such a future for the lad Ward, le would have been sent to a lunatic asyum as a dangerous charaetor to be at large. iuch are the mysterious ways of .Providence n shaping our ends here below. Colorado's Toy Farm.?An amusing ncident occurred recently to ruffle the ilacid surface of Exposition life in New )rleans. It was the destruction of the chief art of the Colorado State exhibit in the iovernment building. The exhibit, except lot of minerals and photographs of scenery, onsisted almost entirely of a number of ude paintings on cotton osnaburgs, repreenting mountain views and disposed in the anner of cheap theatrical stage scenery, n front of it was a miniature farm with oy houses, toy men and women aud two aammoth ears of corn standing like monunents, each nearly a yard high, the whole earing the legend, "Behold the results of rrigation." The ears of corn Were fabricaed for the purpose, but they helped to set ff the cheap scenery and the toy plantation, nd attracted much attention from ladies nd children. This scenic arrangement had een put up by one 1). S. Grimes, who figred as artist and decorator to the State xhibit. Grimes complained that the State r the Commissioners owed him some 1,500 for his work, but he had not been aid, and about 10 o'clock, when the buildigs were deserted by all save the watchlan on duty, Grimes took a hatchet and hopped down the frail scenery and demolihed the toy farm and the monumental ars of corn. The watchman on duty at the lace saw the work of demolition in progess, but recognizing in the perpetrator one f the officials, did not interfere. Cutting Things Under Water.? V'hen science was in its infancy, much of ts fact was mixed with nonsense, apd ome of the nonsense shows a wonderful itality. A case in point is the recent epublication of a bit of nonsense that ,'as current at least forty years ago. It s a receipt for cutting glass with shears r scissors. The statement is that sheet lass can be cut with the greatest ease with pair of scissors if the glass is kept under . ater and kei)t in a level position. That here is not a*word of truth in it any one lay easily prove on a trial, with the result f dulling a pair of shears. There is one cutting process that can be etter done underwater; that is, the paring f onions. When pared under water the crid emanations, so unpleasant to the muous membrane of the eyes and nose, are issolved or held in the water. But neither he quality of the glass nor the power of cissors is changed by immersion in water. ' cientijie American. In matters of conscience, first thoughts re best; in matters of prudence, last houghts are best. THE CHARMS OF OFFICE. MEN WHO CAN FIND NO HAPPINESS OUT OP OFFICIAL LIFE. President Lincoln once said that the two things in this world which most resemble each other in attractions and in effect are whisky and office. No truercomparison was ever made. A man who knows not the delights of office, like one who has never felt the influence of liquor, finds no fault with an obscure, sober existence; but let him once taste the sweets of official life and like the youth who, for the first time experiences the hilarious sensation of the cup, he will regard his former mode of living as insipid and unbearable. This fact explains the strange tenacity with which men who have been In the public service cling to government employment, even when their interests are in other directions. They prefer a salary of two or three thousand dollars a year, with a petty office, to five times that amount in the obscurity of private life. There are now on file at the Post Office Department, a number of applications for meagre salaried postmastersnips by ex-Congressmen, who cannot rest content out of office, though their business or professions yield them large incomes. Some of these papers are couched in pitiful terms, which would not ill become the petition of an exile who yearns for his native soil. It would be impossible to inflict a greater injury on a rising young lawyer or merchant than to send him to Congress and then not keep him there for life. He never can resume his occupation with success. The office instinct, once implanted in his mind, will crop out every time an office is to be filled and will render him incapable of serious attention to his business. He will probably become in the end a chronic office seeker, a ward politician or even a member of the legislature. Constituencies should ponder well the responsibility they assume when they select new representatives in Congress. They should bear in mind that they are transplanting tender plants into a richer soil and that when these plants have taken root in the tropical climate of the capital they cannot, without damage or destruction, be removed to the less genial clime whence they came. Better leave them in their native earth or make their removal permanent. During the last session of Congress there was considerable comment about the number of ex-members who were seen on the floor of the House. These were, for the most part, Republicans who were knocked off their feet by the tidal wave of 1882, andwho were still quite dazed by the suddenness of the thing. It was pitiful to watch their features as they wandered from seat to seat, receiving condolences and affecting a jollity they were far from feeling. One would think that revisiting the scenes of r,oof rrlnrxr nnlv add* nain to misfortune, but 6"?J r these ex-statesmen seemed to find a melancholy happiness in viewing the field of their worldly exploits and even in contemplating the chairs which they once occupied. Several ex-Congressmen have settled permanently in Washington, after vain attempts at re-election in thier districts and are seemingly happy to be near the gates of the official paradise which they are not permitted to enter. Others spend the greater part of the Congressional year at the capital drifting about the public buildings in the hope that something may turn up, all the while neglecting their private business and perhaps running into debt. A few of these quandom legislators are ever begging clerksnips on the committees of Congress, or places in the departments?anything, in fact, that savors of public office. CIRCUS APPRENTICES. "There are no circus apprentices nowadays," said W. D. Hutchinson recently; "circus proprietors get their talent reaay made and only want the best. The old way of training for the ring was by an apprenticeship of seldom less than six years. One of the best old-time trainers was Levi J. North, who was in his prime about 1840. At that time circus people were not brought up to do any particular act. A good man was supposed to be able to do everything, to be as good an acrobat as a juggler, or as clever a clown as a bareback rider. The boy apprentice would usually commence by learning to ride a pair of ponies. The method of teaching boys to be bareback riders was almost the same in those days as at the present time. They were first put to work on a 'mechanic,' which consists of a pole set in the middle of a sawdust ring, with a high arm, which ran over a rope. One end of the rope was fastened to the boy's belt as he stood on the horse and the instructor held the other. As the horse galloped around the ring the pole and arm revnivpri. Tf the nuDilsliDDed from the horse's back he was saved a fall* by the rope fastened to his belt. They were made to practice three or four hours a day. Levi North's circus performers were made up principally of apprentices, and North himself was a performer in the ring. For practicing on the road where no 'mechanic' could be erected, a short rope was tied to the pupil's belt and fastened to a ring in the saddle. This prevented him from falling to the ground. The old gymnasts always had the youngsters with them learning, but in these times gymnasts come from the city gymnasiums or learn their business in the barnloft of the old homestead. Sometimes a performer finds a smart boy, teaches him during the winter and the next season brings him out in a 'brother,' or combination act. There are two large schools for circus riders and gymnasts in the East. One is kept near Patterson, N. J., by J. Eaton Stone, one of the best known of the old riders, and the other by James Cook, an Englishman, who came to this country with L. B. Lent. They were first established for the use of members of the profession who wished to add new features to their acts or to keep themselves in training during the winter.'' "Do the women riders serve apprenticeship?" "Well, no?that is, not in this country, for most of our riders are foreigners. Yet some of the best and most daring horsewomen we have ever had in the ring were American girls. ? Batiiing.?Many people are in the habif of dabbling a great deal in bath tubs filled I with fresh water during the heated term. This is injurious. Sponge bathing, in the majority of cases, would effect the cooling and refreshing purposes intended and cleanse the pores just as well. Nature evidently intends man shall bathe frequently in summer. In winter, if one is notengaged in particularly dusty or dirty pursuits, a bath all over once, twice or perhaps three times a week should be plenty. Cold baths are best for the strong and vigorous, out tne weaker ones, who begin with tepid bathing water, should end each bath with a dash of water as a cold as the system will bear. A good friction with a coarse towel, supplemented with a hand rub-down or perhaps a little bay rum or alcohol rubbed in after the coldest bath, will restore healthy action and bring a glow to the surface, causing the whole body to feel reinvigorated.?New York Telegram. ^ a?"-Among all the virtues, humility, the lowest, is pre-eminent. It is the safest, because it is always an anchor; and that man may be truly said to live most content in his calling whostri ves to live within its compass. a?T A few strong instincts and a few strong rules should govern us, and among them one ought, if possible, to cherish an undying love of truth?not abstract truth but the every day article. aST Consult your friend on all things, especially on those which respect yourself. His councils may then be useful, where your own self-love might impair your judgment. All other knowledge is hurtful to one who has not the science of honesty and good nature.