Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 23, 1885, Image 1

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% ? ? M? Mil? , IIBII,II,MIMI?,IIB,IMIIIIH1 II HWI?? ! ! ! II IIBIII 1~l~l ir^nilir? ??? f lewis m. grist, Proprietor. 1 $ifte]pknf Jfamilg fjlriospaptr: jfor % |)ro)no(rott of ijie political, Serial, ^.griralfiiral anit Commtrrial |ntmsls of % Souflj. j TERMS--I2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 31. YORKYILLE, S C., THURSDAY, JULY 23, 1885. ISTO. 3Q. MEAN SET. The Taming of an Arkansaw Hoiden. Away up the Boston Mountains, in Arkansaw?near a stream so rapid that it seemed a torrent of hurry and worry, there stands an old stone house. Here and there, high up among the sudden coves and down below the little valleys, luxuriant crops of grain and grasses grow. The place is owned by old Nathan Billingsly, a man whose reputation for piety spreads far beyond the ? - * > -p iU. J... "Rill oounuary lines ui uie uuuuiy. iuio. ingsly was pale and pious. She worked so hard in summer cooking for the hired men, that she barely had the strength in winter to enter the revival work of the circuit and do herself justice. To this devoted old couple only one child had been born, a girl that had grown up to be anything but a joy to her parents. They had been married many years when the child was born, and the old man in an ecstacy of delight, declared that the little thing was a sun-beam that had fallen on to the shady side of his life. Years failed to verify this hopeful assertion. The girl, known all over the neighborhood as Mean Het, was, to her parents, a constant cause of vexation, and sometimes she was the cause of humiliation. She was small and of exceeding fleetness of foot. Her face was of that peculiar * paleness which no exercise tends to redden. Her eyes were as dark as the interior of a cave. "Hettie," said Mrs. Billingsly one evening, "where have you been all day?" She took a small fish from her pocket, threw it on the table, pointed to it and said: "Worked all day for that little perch. Lost all my bait and had to catch this young sinner with a cricket." "You ought to be ashamed of yourself." * l - J - iL.J. "lam. AnyDouy matcouiuu iuu ucbrci than this," again pointing at the fish, "ought to feel ashamed. Got anything to eat, handy?" I am hungry as a wolf." "Ah, child," sighed Mrs. Billingsly, as she turned to the "cupboard" to take down the dishes containing the dinner which had been kept for the girl, "I don't know what is to become of you. Hettie, do you know that you are sixteen years old to-day?" "This curly mustard makes splendid greens, don't it?" "Did you hear what I said to you?" - "Yessum. I never would know how old I am unless you were to tell me. Sixteen years old?sixteen. Why, I don't feel old, mother, and after all I am not as old as you are." ^ "Hettie, don't be so foolish." "Why, mother, is it foolish to tell the truth ? If I were to say that I am as old as you are it would be foolish, and at the same * time it would be untrue." "Hush* child, here comes your father. He is mad." The old man entered the room. "Het, where have you been ?" "Fishing." "I'll fish you." He walked out toward the apple tree. The girl dropped the knife and fork. "He is going to whip me, mother, don't let him. I know I'm mean, but it hurts so when I'm whipped. Please don't let him whip me." The old man, stripping the leaves from ^ an apple tree sprout, walked in with a deliberation which showed his strength of purpose. "I've fooled with you as long as I am goin' to, you good-for-nothin' thing, I'll?" "Hello!" some on called at the gate. The old man dropped the switch and went out. Mrs. Billingsly and the girl, seeing that the old man was conducting some one toward the house, went into the sitting room, where they were presented to young MrWilkins, the newly appointed circuit rider. The young man, during a course of theological study, had grown pale, but his face colored when Hettie, with mischievous frankness, extended her hand. "I am under many obligations to you," said Hettie, still holding the hand of the blushing preacher. The old man glared at the girl. The old lady violently cleared her throat, "Obligations to me? Why, Miss Billingsly, I do not understand you." "Yes, I am. Father was just about to larrup me with an apple tree sprout when you came." "Leave this room," demanded the old man. "Goon, I tell you. That switch is still handy, and you shall feel it yet." The girl left the room. The astonished Mr. Wilkins sat down, and recovering somewhat from his embarrassment, said: "Brother Billingsly, how is the condition of the church in this neighborhood ?" "Pretty fair." "At the last meetin'," remarked the old lady, "we had three as bright conversions as I ever saw. There has been a little backslidin' lately, caused by barn dances and the ?, like, but with the right sort of work the church can be put in first rate condition. This is your first charge, ain't it?" "Yes, I have just come from college. 2 Although I have never been actively engaged in the vineyard, yet I believe that I can do good work. I have?" The minister uttered an exclamation and ran out into the yard. His horse was galloping away. A giggling girl drew back *._*_ 1 _ -tn ? 4-V\ r\ V?Aticn CKn Ko/1 im_ oeniuu it curnci Ul mc nuu.^,. ?jnt iuiu unhitched the hqjse. The preacher, by climbing fences and crossing rugged places, succeeded in catching the horse, but at least two hours were spent in the perplexing exercise. "How is this, Brother Billingsly?" "What, Brother Wilkins?" "Why, I tied my horse securely, but you see he has the bridle over his head. This is certainly strange. Won't you ride to the house, Brother Billingsly ?" "Oh ! no, I am used to walking." "Well, I will ride." lie mounted the horse. The animal lunged forward, kicked up and threw the young man. Mr. Billingsly caught the horse. Mr. Wilkins said that there was surely some mistake. "Why, sir, he never acted this way before." The old man adjusted the saddle. A fragment of flint rock fell on the ground. The old man shook his head and sighed deeply. "What isthe matter, Brother Billingsly?" "I was thinking of the sinfulness there is in this world." "Yes, the world is full of sin ; but it is our duty to eradicate it." "Well, let us go to the house." When the preacher had gone to bed, Mr. Billingsly having secured the apple tree sprout, called his daughter. "Father, please don't whip me. I won't do it any more." "Do what?" "Do anything. I'll be good, I declare I will. I won't go fishing any more unless you tell me to go." "What made you put that rock under i the saddle and turn the horse loose, hah ?" "I don't know, but if you won't whip me, 11 will never do it any more." "I heard you talk that way before. Come here to me!" Just as he raised the switch, the preacher calling from the head of the stairs, said: "Oh, Brother Billingsly!" "Yes." "Step here a minute, please." The old man went up. The preacher said: "You must really excuse me for going to bed without having held prayers. I am very young in the cause, you know, and really forgot it. Is it too late ?" "No; we might pray a little." The preacher put on his clothes, came down stairs and summoned the family. Mean Hettie joined the circle of devotion. When the services were over, the preacher, the old man and the old lady engaged in a long conversation. The prayer had aroused them and they talked until a late hour. In the meantime the girl slipped away and went to bed. The next day was Sunday. Mr. Wilkins had an appointment to preach in a little church situated a short distance from Billingsly farm. "When the time arrived, Wilkins asked the girl if he might accompany her. She laughed uproaringly. You are the first person that ever wanted to go with me anywhere," she said. "It does not, however, give you cause to refuse." "Oh, I'm not going to refuse. The girls? and I hate nearly all of them?think it is awful smart to catch a new preacher." "I hope that this alone does not influence you to accompany me." "No." "You have a noble motive." "Yes, I want to see how foolish it will make father look." "You ought not talk that way." "Why don't you like to hear the truth?" "Oh, yes, but no one should entertain such truths. They are pernicious. A truth can be quite as bad as a lie." "Well, I have another reason." "1 am glad to near it." "It is a better reason than the other one." "What is it?" "I want to see how curious it will make mother look." "Miss Billingsly, you are provoking." "So are you. They are ready. Come on." Mr. Billingsly and his wife were surprised to see the preacher walking with their daughter, for having listened to neighbors who are never complimentary, they thought that Hettie was the worst child in the world. The young preacher was a success. At first he was embarrassed, but receiving, from the kindly faces around him, an inspiration of confidence, he threw off all restraint and thrilled the congregation. "How did you like my sermon ?" he asked of Hettie as they were walking along the road. "It did first rate for a beginner." The preacher Was disappointed. Of all the people in the house, he desired most to impress the girl. Perceiving his disappointment, and suffering a slight sting of remorse, she added: "It was the best sermon I ever heard. The heathen was touched." He looked earnestly at her. She laughed so loud that Billingsly and his wife, who were walking some distance in advance, looked back at her. "You do not call yourself a heathen, do you ?" "Yes." "You have no cause to call yourself a heathen. Are not your parents good Chris inr.e "Yes, but I am a heathen. Wonder what would become of me if I were to die. Oh, I know. I would be buried." "Miss Biliingsly, you should not talk so." "Doyou know why I am so bad?" "I do not know that you are so bad." "I am though." "Then, why are you ?" "Because, ever since I can remember, everybody has told me how bad I am. I must have been a repulsive child, for I cannot remember that a visitor to our house ever took me up and carressed me. Nothing could make me bitter, so I just became bad. 1 have made many attempts to behave myself, but the first thing I knew, something would come up to turn me back. I know that I am almost a woman?but we have talked enough about it. I have already talked more freely to you than I have ever talked to anyone else." Wilkins boarded with Billingsly. The! preacher tried in vain to engage the girl in another serious conversation. She did not avoid him, but when he attempted to draw frorr^ her a serious expression, she would make perplexing replies. A great revival was organized at the little church. Hettie would not walk with the preacher, and, in fact, she would not have I attended the meeting had not her father j compelled her to do so. One evening, just j before church time, the old gentleman called j Hettie. He received no answer. The old gentleman raved. He searched the prein-1 ises, but could not find her. The preacher j was grieved and Mrs. Billingsly was humiliated. They went to church without thej girl. When they had gone, Hettie came out from her hiding place. Her eyes were j red, and her cheeks were tear-stained. She i attempted to read, but threw down the book.! She tried to laugh but burst into tears. The | clock struck nine. Brushing back her hair, i she stood for a moment as though she were j deeply thinking, then, throwing a light shawl around her shoulders, she rushed from the house. The preacher had begun to call for mourners ; the brothers and sisters had begun to sing an old hymn, when Hettie entered the church. Without looking up she walked quickly to the mourners' bench and knelt down. The people were astonished. When the services were closed, the preacher looked for Hettie, but she had disappeared. He did not see her at the breakfast table the next morning. In apology, Mrs. Billingsly said that her daughter was not well. She did not come down to dinner, neither did she make her appearance at the supper table. The old man was much softened toward the girl, and before going tochurch he went up and kissed her. It was such a surprise, it moved her so deeply that she sobbed aloud. That night when the preacher called for mourners, Hettie suddenly appeared. She looked at no one, but with a low cry, she 1 XI. _ 1 1- "I* 1 -v ...L ~ MA.. smiK upon uie ueuun. .reupit; wuuimu ncver had a kind word to say of the girl, gathered around her and whispered consoling words in her ears. Everyone seemed to be glad that Mean Het was no longer able to fight; against the spirit. The girl was so earnest that the meeting was prolonged. Just as an old exhorter arose to say that the meeting would be brought to a close, Hettie sprang to her feet, uttered a cry of joy and seized her mother. It was now useless to attempt a dismissal of the meeting. The little church had never known a season of such shouting. Old man Billingsly lifted his lusty voice, and his wife, in a transport of happiness, singingin a voice of tremulous joy, time and again declared that the Lord had issued a special decree in her favor. The preacher was happy. He had been the means of accomplishing a work which every one had thought to be impossible. He was ardently sincere; he believed that a soul had been saved. Hettie no longer avoided him. Her face had undergone an entire change. Her smile was radiant. One evening shortly after her conversion, she and the preacher sat on a large rock. "Hettie, you do not know how bright your face has grown." "And, Mr. Wilkins, do you not know how light my heart has grown. I look with pity upon my former self. I can now realize the truth of what you have told me." "Hettie, you have been more to me than I have to you, yes, much more. I taught you duty; you taught me love. Oh, girl, I love, I love you." She did not reply, but she put her arms around his neck. This occurred several years ago. Mrs. Hettie Wilkins, wife of the presiding elder, is one of the most modest and pious women in Arkansaw. She often tells her husband that he more than once saved her?that his "hello" at the gate was almost as saving as his earnest voice of admonition.?Arkansaw Traveler. THE BANKER^ MISTAKE. My profession isn't a popular one; in fact, there is considerable prejudice against it. As for myself, I don't think it's much worse than a good many others. However, that has nothing to with my story. Some years ago me and the gentleman who was then connected with me in business?he's met with reverses since then, and at present isn't able to go out?was looking around for a job, being at that time rather hard up, as you might say. We struck a small country town. I ain't a going to give it away by telling where it *"A" nomo r\f if urac ThorP WitS, UI wimi l/lic name ./i iu ??*..v?x. was one bank there. The president was rich and old ; owned the mills, owned the bank, owned most of the town. There wasn't another officer but the cashier, and they had a boy who used to sweep out and run errands. The bank was in the main street, pretty well up one end of it?a nice snug place at the corner, with nothing very near it. We took our observations, and found out there wasn't no trouble at all about it. There was an old watchman that walked up and down the street at nights, when he didn't fall asleep and forget it. The vault had two doors; the outside one was chilled iron, and had a three-wheel combination lock: the inner door was no door at all? you could pick it open. It didn't pretend to be nothing but fire-proof and it wasn't even that. The first thing we did, of course, was to fit a key to the outside door. This was our place. After the key was fitted, I was to go into the bank, and Jim? that wasn't his name, of course, but let it "?" wr*i f r*n tho mitcirlp ! pass Wil.1 LU rv.c*.-j/ 1IUIVII V..V, . When anyone passed he was to tip me a whistle, and then I was to douse the glim and lay low. After they got by I goes on again. Simple and easy you see. Well, the night we selected the president happened to be out of town; gone down to the city, as he often did. I got inside all right with a slide lantern, a breast-drill, a steel jimmy, a bunch of skeleton keys, and a green baize bag to stay the swag. 1 fixed my light, and rigged my breast-drill, and got to work on the door right over the lock. Probably a great many of your readers are not so well posted as me about bank locks, and I may say for them that a threewheel combination lock has the three wheel. In order to unlock the door, you have to get the three slots opposite to each other at the top of the lock. Of course, if you know the number the lock is set on you can do uus, out 11 you don't, you have to depend on your ingenuity. There is in each of these wheels a small hole, through which you put a wire through the back of the lock when you change the combination. Now, if you can bore a hole through the door, and pick up those wheels by running a wire through those holes, why you can open the door. I hope I may make myself clear. I was boring that hole. The door was chilled iron, about the neatest stuff I ever worked on. I went on steady enough, only stopped when Jim?which, as I said wasn't his real name?whistled outside, and the watchman toddled by. By-and-by, when I'd got pretty nearly j through, I heard Jim, so to speak, whistle again. I stopped, and pretty soon heard footsteps j outside, and I'm blamed if they didn't come I right up the bank steps, and I heard a key work in the lock. I was so dumbfounded when I heard that, that you could have slipped the bracelets right on me. I picked up my lantern, and I'll be hanged if I didn't let the slide slip down and throw the light right on to the door, and there was the president. Instead of calling for help, as T thought he would, he took a step inside the door, and shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at me. I knowed I ought to knock him down and cutout, but I'm blessed if I could, I was that surprised. "Who are you ?" says he. "Who are you ?" says I, thinking that was an innocent remark, as he commenced ' it, and a trying all the time to collect myself. "I'm the president of the bank," says he, kinder short; "something's the matter with the lock?" By George ! the idea came to me then. "Yes, sir," says I, touching my cap. "Mr. j Jennings, he telegraphed this morning as i the lock was out of order and he couldn't J get in, and I'm come on to open it for him." 1 "I told Jennings a week ago," says he, J "that he ought to get that lock fixed. : Where is he ?" "He's been a writing letters, and he's | gone up to his house to get another letter he wanted for to answer." "Well, why don't you go right on," says | he. "I've got almost through," says I, "and 11 ! didn't want to finish up and open the vault till there was somebody here." "That's very creditable to you," says he; "a very proper sentiment, my man. You can't be too particular about avoiding the very suspicion of evil," he goes on, coming round by the door. "No, sir," says I, modest like. "What do you suppose is the matter with the lock ?" says he. "I don't rightly know yet," says I, "but I think it's a little worse on account of not being oiled enough. These locks ought to be oiled about once a year." "Well," says he, "you might as well go right on now I am here ; I will stay till Jennings comes. Can I help you?hold your lantern or something of that sort?" The thought came to me like a flash, and I turned around and says: "How do I know you are the president? I have never seen you before and you may be trying to crack this bank for all I know." "That's a very proper inquiry, my man," says he, "and shows a remarkble degree of discretion in you. I confess that I should not have thought of the position in which I was placing you. However, I can easily convince you it is all right. Do you know what the president's name is?" "No, I don't," I said, rather surly. "Well, you'll find it on that bill," said he, taking a bill out of his pocket; "and you'll see the same on these letters," and he took some letters from his coat pocket. I suppose that I ought to have gone on then, but I was beginning to feel interested in making him prove who he was, so I said: "You might have got those letters to put up a job on me." "You are an honest man," he said ; "one among a thousand. Don't think I'm at all offended at your persistence. No, my good fellow, I like it?I like it!" and he laid his hand upon my shoulder. "Now here," he said, taking a bundle out of his pocket, "is a package of one thousand pounds in bonds. A burglar wouldn't be apt to carry those round with him, would he? I bought them in the city yesterday and stopped here tonight, on my way home to place them in the vault; and I may add that your simple and manly honesty has so touched me that I would willingly leave them in your hands for safe keeping. You needn't blush at my praise," "I suppose I did turn rather red when I saw those bonds. "Are you satisfied now?" he said. I told him I was, thoroughly. And so I was. So I picked up my drill again, and gave him my lantern to hold, so that I could see the door. I heard Jim, as I call him, out-1 ~ ~ owl T noarl\r hnpcf. nnf. SlUtJ uuce t?l l/?Ylv;c, nuu JL iiv/mmj w?laughing, thinking how he must be wondering what was going on inside. I worked away, and kept explaining to the president what I was trying to do. He was very much interested in mechanics, he said, and he knew that I was a man well up in my business by the way I went to work. lie asked about what wages I got, and how I liked my business, and said he I took quite a fancy to me. I turned round once in a while and looked at him sitting there as solemn as an owl, with my dark lantern in his blessed hand ; and I'm blamed if I didn't think I should have to halloa right out. I got through the lock pretty soon, and put in my wire and opened it. Then he took hold of the door and opened the vault. "I'll put my bonds in," said he, and gohome. You can lock up and wait till Mr. Jennings comes. I don't suppose you will try to fix the lock to-night." I told him I shouldn't do anything more with it, as we could get in before morning. "Well, I bid you good-night, my man," says he as he swung the door to again. Just then I heard Jim whistle, and I guess the watchman was coming up the street. "And," said I to the president, "you might speak to the watchman, if you see him, and tell him to keep an extra look-out to-night." j "I will," said he, and we both went to ! the front door. "There comes the wachman up the street," j said he. "Watchman, this man has been : fixing the bank lock, and I want you to j keep a sharp look out to-night. He will j stay here until Mr. Jennings returns." "Good-night again," said he, and he: went up the street. I saw Jim?so called?in the shadow on the other side of the street, as I stood on j the step with the watchman. "Well," said I to the watchman, "I'll go and pick up my tools and get ready to go." I I went back into the bank, and it didn't take long to throw the door open and stuff the bonds into the bag. There were some boxes lying around, and a safe I should have liked to have tackled, but it seemed like tempting Providence after the luck we ; had had. I looked at, mv watch and saw it was iust a quarter past twelve. I put my tools in the bag on top of the bonds, and walked out of the front door. The watchman was on the steps. "I don't think I'll wait for Mr. Jennings," j I said. "I suppose it will be all right if I give you his key." "That's all right," said the watchman. "I wouldn't go away very far from the j bank," I said. "No, I will not," he said. "I'll stay about here all night." - "Good-night," I said as I shook hands with him, and Jim and I?Jim was not his right name, you understand?took the halfpast twelve express, and the best part of that job was, we never heard any more about it. It never got into the papers. ^mmmmmia *m. \ w CARTER HARRISON. Carter Harrison, the Mayor of the city of Chicago, was born in Fayette county, Kentucky, February loth, 1825, and received a classical education, graduating at Yale College in 1845 ; he studied law, but was a farmer in his native county until 1855. Resuming the study of law he graduated at the Transylvania Law School, Lexington, Ky., in 1855, after which he removed to Chicago; did not enter into active practice at the bar, but was a real estate owner and operator there. He was elected a Ccok county Commissioner in 1871, and served until 1874. He represented Illinois in the 44th Congress, being elected as a Democrat, and was re-elected to- the 45th Congress, his second term expiring December 6th, 1877. Since his terms in Congress, Mr. Harrison's name has almost unintermittingly heen in the public prints. Being elected as Mayor of Chicago, and for three times returned to tnatomce, ne succeeuea in making many enemies, and the city press almost without exception stigmatized him as unworthy of his post. The JnterOcean and the Times were especially violent in their denunciation, and the former charged him with being in direct collusion with thieves and sand baggers. Mr. Harrison entered suit for libel against tho various papers and individuals, the different suits aggregating $800,000. The cause of the trouble was the stealing of one of the ballot boxes, immediately after the election, which caused a dead-lock in the Illinois Legislature and which ended in the final election of J. A. Logan to the Senate. The strike of the car drivers and employees in Chicago brought Mayor Harrison again prominently to the front, and he issued a proclamation in which he asked all good citizens to aid him in enforcing the law. Fighting, Ancient and Modern.? 'PRp r?r> 1 \r /lifTprpnpp hpf.vvppn implant, and modern armies is in the application of steam, gunpowder, and dynamite?a very great one in appearance, but not so much in reality. Modern armies do not need to be so large in the field as ancient armies; yet it is questionable whether fewer people are required for an effective war in modern times than of old. The men who make the powder and dynamite and the girls who fill the cartridges are quite as much part and parcel of a modern army as the soldiers who fire them off, and run pretty nearly similar risk. The methods of modern warfare are exactly the same as of ancient warfare, and relatively not much more effective, though just as coarse and brutal. The long bow was quite as effective a weapon as the rifle, and modern cannon do not seem to be any great advantage on the balistie and battering rams of the ancients. In naval warfare we have actually gone back again to one of the most ancient naval manceuvers, that of ramming. The siege trains of the present day are just as cumbersome as siege trains in times when as the Bible tells us, "Mountains and hills were made low and valleys exalted; when rough places were made plain and the crooked straight." Science has not yet said its last word on the adaptation of nature's secrets to resistance against rapine, carnage, and wrong, whether exercised by nation or nations against individuals. Even now substances are known to chemists which it only needs fiber mechanical skill to make into efficient and invincible agents for defending civilization against barbarism and savagery. What secrets may be, and no doubt are hid in the womb of nature, and are waiting to be revealed by the hand of science, can only be conjectured. But we i? ?1.tknt limy UC 5UIC l/I L11 lo 111 ULll l/liai IUU illgiltJi the civilization and the more developed the intellect of the future, the more hopeless will become the attempts of needy and adventurous barbarians against the well-being of rich and highly civilized nations. If the rich Romans had left to Britain with their civilization a body of physical knowledge similar to that even of to-day, the Saxon conquest would have been impossible. Ancient Life in Arizona.?Many regard the Southwest as a new country, and look for new things when visiting the Southwestern lands. But in reality the Territory teemed with an active population, versed in science, in the art of government. in the knowledge of manufacturing industries before Milton and Shakespeare and Cervantes and Columbus were born. It is possible, indeed, and quite probable that Arizona was a progressive and nopulous region when Noah built the ark, when the battle of Thermopolyje was fought, when Homer wrote his epics. In fact, it is an old country, rich with a history that may never be known, sacked and pillaged, neglected and forgotten during the years in which the East grew up .?Port/ami (Me.) Iran script. BsaT It is the young, the idle, the smallminded, who are most prone to vex themselves about small things and outside things. As years advance and interest widens, we see with larger eyes, and refuse to let minute evils destroy in us, that equal mind which, accepting life as a whole in all its earnestness and reality, its beauty and sadness combined, weighs calmly and strikes bravely the balance of good and evil. "We never see a tear in the eye," says a celebrated writer, "but we are reminded of a warm heart." ftotw flu Jtoeigv ^paads. SKETCHES OF TRAVEL IN SCOTLAND. BY REV. R. IjATHAN. [Written for tlie Yorkville Enquirer.] After a pleasant night's rest on the boat, I landed on the banks of the Clyde, in the city of Glasgow, at an early hour in the day. For several hours a Scotch mist had been j falling and as the boat steamed up slowly alongside the landing, and began to disgorge her cargo of human freight, the clouds, as if aware of our exposed condition, began to empty their contents in earnest. All rain is water, and all water possesses the property of wetting, but really it does seem that some rains possess greater wetting properties than others. This, 1 was told, is a peculiarity 01 a Scotch mist. It will wet a man to the skin. The Clyde runs through the city of Glasgow, its general direction being north-west. The larger portion of the city is on the north side. When first seen, and especially on a rainy morning, Glasgow presents a gloflmy appearance. From Dumbarton Castle to Glasgow, the country generally presented a gloomy appearance. The boats move along so slowly at many places that they can scarcely be seen to move. Posts are erected at short intervals, on the banks of the river, to each of which is attached a plank, on which is written in large letters, "Dead slow." At these places the boats only creep along. At other places the river spreads out for a considerable distance when the tide is up. Land, which is covered once in every twenty-four hours by the tide, presents a spectacle of gloomy desolation which is indescribable. The first thing every traveler attends to after reaching a city or town in which he purposes to remain for some time, is the selecting of a hotel or boarding house. Of these there are in the city of Glasgow, I suppose I may safely say, hundreds. One of these hotels is owned by the Glasgow and South Western Railway Company, and is said to be the third hotel, in size, in the kingdom. Americans generally stop at Philip's Cockburn Hotel, 141 Bath street. This is an immense five story stone building fitted up in recent style, with all the modern appointments. The proprietor and manager of this hotel is James Philips, of New Orleans, Louisiana. Over the Philips' Cockburn the American flag floats. Here I may remark, that some thirty-five or forty Americans were comfortablv Drovided for. We represented every section of the Union, and nearly every State in the Union. At home, some of us were ultra southern Democrats, others were ultra northern Republicans; some of us had been slaveholders, while others had been bitter Abolitionists, but in Glasgow, all these petty political distinctions were forgotten, and every man took off his hat and bowed courteously to the American flag, feeling and exclaiming "that's our flag." The places of interest in the city of Glasgow, are, I may say, innumerable. This is true with regard to all the cities and towns in Great Britain. They have a history as thrilling as a fairy tale. In fact, no small part of the history of these old cities is fairy tale legends. As places of interest, the University, the Cathedral, the Monuments, the Acropolis, the Exchanges and Botanic Gardens may be mentioned. It will be remembered that of the cities nf thp Rritish TsIps. Glasgow, in Doint of commercial and mechanical importance, and, in population, ranks next to Loudon. The rapid growth of Glasgow is very remarkable. At the time of the union of England and Scotland, 1707, the population of Glasgow was only a little more than twelve thousand. The increase in the population of England and Scotland during the present century partakes of the marvelous. In 1800, the population of England, including Wales, was only about eight million five hundred thousand ; to-day it is twentyfive million. At the beginning of the present century, the population of Scotland was only about oue and a half million, at present it is, perhaps, four million. For various reasons the population of Ireland has been gradually decreasing since the year 1847. Its population at that time was more than eight million; at present it is about five million. During this period of eighty-five years, England, Scotland and Ireland have been sending out large numbers of their population to settle up the colonies of the British Government in various parts of the world. In addition to this, the English, the Irish and the Scotch are scattered over the United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The population of the British Isles?that,is of England, Ireland and Scotland, is about thirty-five million, while that of the United States, including the Territories and Alaska, is only about fifty-one million. The State of Texas alone is more than five times as large as England and Wales, and more than twice as large as all England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland. The territory of the United States is more than three and one-half billion square miles, while that of England, Ireland and Scotland is only one hundred and twentyf>nn tlimiusinrl ?i\- hnnrlroil nnrl piorht miles; or, the territory of the United States is more than twenty-eight times as large as that of England, Ireland and Scotland. But, to return to the main subject in hand, it may be said of Glasgow that it is both an old and a new city. It is entitled to be called a city, not because of the number of its inhabitants, or the importance or extent of its commerce or manufactures, but because there is, within its corporate limits, a Cathedral. This seems strange to Americans. The inhabitants of little railroad depot towns, in our country, do not hesitate to use the word city as a suffix to the name of their town. To this, no one objects, and city is far more dignified if not more sonorous than villa. On the British Isles, no town is entitled to be called a city except there be in it an old Cathedral, a monument of architectural greatneas and spiritual degradation and superstition of bygone days. The founding of Glasgow took place about the middle of the sixth century. Here ahmit Alii) St Afimrrn nr Ivpntirrorn hniltn cell. The spot on which this Culdee cell was constructed is said to have been about a mile north ofthe Clyde, some place near the site of the Cathedral. It was a place of no importance, or of but little importance for centuries. While England and Scotland continued separate kingdoms, the situation of Glasgow was unfavorable to command trade. In fact, without the Clyde, and the Clyde dredged out and made navigable, Glasgow would be nothing but an insignificant Scotch town. The Cathedral, one of the finest architectural structures in the kingdom, in fact one of the finest architectural structures in the world, might give it a kind of semi-religious importance, and entitle it to be called a city, but never could Glasgow be what it is, and what it is destined to be without the Clyde dredged out. This suggests the idea that if the obstructions were taken out of Broad river, the beds of iron on King's creek, Wolfs creek and Doolittle might be utilized and made a source of immense revenue to the State of South Carolina. There seems to be no natural reason why ships of heavy burden might not be brought from the mouth of the Santee to Cherokee ford, as easily as ships of the heaviest burden are brought from Greenoch to Glasgow. Not only so, but by a system of canals, boats of heavy burden pass from Oban to Inverness, almost directly across Scotland. The only difficulty in our way is we southern people are too poor and the natural resources of our country are so grant iiiut we uu nut itrtu tut; necessity ui icsorting to artificial means, either to support life or to accumulate wealth. With the Glasgowegians necessity was and is the mother of invention. Since the Cathedral, the germ of which was St. Mungo's cell, entitled Glasgow to be called a city, and was for several centuries the most important feature of the place, it no doubt is expected that every traveler will give a minute discription of this huge fabric. This I attempted when on the ground, consequently I will be very brief at present. The Cathedral of Glasgow is a relic of Papal ascendancy in Scotland. From A. D. 560 the year that St. Muugo built his cell down to A. D. 1115 very little is known about the Cathedral. At the latter period it was a rude structure. David, then prince of Cumberland, refounded it. It was not, however, until 1176 that it was rebuilt and enlarged to its present size by Bishop Joceline. It was in this year that William I granted the citizens of Glasgow a charter to hold a weekly market and in 1190 they were granted a royal charter to hold an annual fair. The present dimensions of the Cathedral are, length from east to west, three hundred and nineteen feet; width, sixty three feet; height of the choir, eigniy-nve ieet; ana nave, ninety ieei. a tower of two hundred and twenty-five feet high rises from the centre of the building. In the interior of the building there are one hundred and forty seven massive stone pillars. There are one hundred and fiftynine windows of various dimensions and all filled with stained glass from Munich. This was begun in 1859 and completed in 1864 by private individuals. On many, if not all, of the stained glasses are to be seen more than the traces of Popery. They are covered with pictures of imaginary saints, or with imaginary pictures of real saints. It is stated positively, but whether true or not, I do not know, that the Cathedral of Glasgow "possesses in its windows a display of stained glass more abundant and brilliant than that of any other edifice in Great Britain." To describe the Cathedral of Glasgow requires about as much architectural knowledge as it did to write "The Last I)ay3 of Pompeii." The nave, which is the middle or body of the edifice, is one hundred and fifty-five feet long. The width between the aisles is thirty feet, from which it is separated by two rows of pillars. The height of the nave is ninety feet. Formerly the nave was cut off by partitions, and used as a parochial church. Of the nave it may be said that itis Gothic in the style of its structure, and is characterized by grand simplicity, exquisite beauty and gigantic strength. The choir is ninety-seven feet long and sixty-three feet wide. The choir is now used as a place of worship, and is known all over the city of Glasgow as the High Church or St'Mungo's Parochial Church. The pulpit is in or near the centre of the space occupied by worshipers. The choir or band of singers occupy the west end, but elevated above the hearers, perhaps fifteen feet. There is a grand organ?a part and parcel of the DUiiciing. ine nousc is nguieu wiui j^no and so dark it is that the gas has to be lighted in day-light. The Cathedral of Glasgow is the property of the Established Kirk of Scotland. It is not by any means a pleasant place in which to worship. The place is gloomy, nothing cheerful about it, and the air is dank and a peculiarly unpleasant odor is constantly floating through the place. This istrueofall the Cathedralsand Abbeys. The crypt?from krupto, to hide?under the choir, isa wonderful piece of architecture. It is one hundred and twenty-five feet long. The piers from which the arches spring are so constructed that a grand view is obtained from every part to the shrine in the centre. It is regarded as one of the best specimens of vaulting in the world. The crypt was at one time used as a place of worship, but is now only used as a place of burial, the purpose for which it was originally designed. The genius of the inimitable Sir Walter Scott graphically refers to the crypt in the tale, or novel, Rob Roy. The Cathedral stands in the midst of an extensive cemetery. The ground of near, or perhaps fully, one half this ancient burial ground is literally paved with grave stones, while the other half is crowded with what we call tomb-stones and monuments. Some of these are memorials of a number of those who gave their lives as martyrs of the Covenant. At the north-east end ot the Cathedral is pointed out the very spot on which Alexander Kennedy and Jerome Russell, in 15J8 were burned at the stake because they embraced the doctrines of the Reformation. The student of Scotch Church history will remember that there was something peculiarly affecting in this act of cruelty. Especially was it affecting in the case of Kennedy, a boy of eighteen years, of liberal education and poetic endowments. John Knox describes him as "a young man of meek nature, quick spirits, and of good letters." When the timid boy was brought before the judges and threatened that if he did not recant he would be burnt alive, he began to tremble and apparently was about todeny his Lord and Master. In ashorttime he recovered. He knelt and thanked God that He had preserved him from apostacy. He arose from his knees and addressed the judges in a firm tone using the following language: "Now 1 defy death. l)o with me as you please; I thank God I am ready." So affecting was the scene that it touched the heart of the Archbishop of Glasgow, whose heart was not very soft.