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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | %u Jnbcjpknt Jfamilg ISjtdosgapcr: Jfor % |rontofioiT of % folifital, Social, Igriraltaa! ani Comntmial $nfmsts of % ?oufb. j terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL. 31. YOEKYILLE, 8. C? THUB8DAY, AUGUST 6, 1885. ]^Q. 32. < Ihe ft0tg Stltn. A MOMENT OF TERROR. Rena Grange was the prettiest girl in Bolton, and the biggest flirt. All girls flirt, you say? Well, perhaps, but I think I know several who do not. Rena certainly did. She could never see a man without making eyes at him, and very handsome eyes hers were, and eloquent; she could make them say anything. I think Rena was so much in the habit of k flirting, that she tried her hand on the women sometimes. Certainly they were almost as much in love with her as their sons, which proves that, notwithstanding the story I am going to tell you, Rena must have had a kind and generous heart, and a great many other good qualities, or the women whose sons she fooled would not nave ueeu so ready to forgive her and take her to their arms. I am not making any excuse for flirting. I consider it one of the meanest devices Satan has ever invented for the beguiling of ^ . ?? man. But I knew the girl I call Rena Grange well; and I confess I could never see that she had but that one fault. She was the most truthful girl I ever knew, and the most unselfish. She must have been a born flirt. I cannot account for her being one in any other way. After all, it only amounted to this: She had what she thought was an innocent fashion of laughing and jesting with young fellows, of lifting her small rosebud face confidingly, of looking their hearts out of them with eyes whose expressiveness, perhajps, she did not herself know. Among Rena's married friends there was one, much older than she, of whom she was especially fond. Her name was Mercer. She was a widow, havinglosther husband under peculiarly painful circumstances, wheu they had been married only two years. She had never married again, and seemed to live only in her son, her only child, who > was in California, where he had been for five years past. Rena had never seen him. Mrs. Mercer thought Rena the sweetest, loveliest girl that ever was made. She did not think she had one fault. Even that foolish habit she had of trifling with gentlemen quite amused her, till her son Fred wrote that he was coming home. Then, indeed, the mother's heart misgave her. She knew that Rena's parents would never consent to her marrying even a young man with Fred's perfections without money. She was one of those women who tell all their thoughts, except now and then, when they keep a secret that destroys them. ',v* J " ?u r l.l.. +V,n. ".ttena ueaiy sue sam jmubi^, w<? mov time she saw her favorite after her son's letter, "I want you to promise me that you won't flirt with Fred." Rena laughed, and then made a face. "Now, Mrs. Mercer, you are as bad as the rest. You know I never flirt." "I know you do, my darling, dreadfully, and I don't suppose, in a general way, it matters much. Most men have tough hearts. But now and then there is one whose nature is so inflammable, that for a pretty girl like you to smile and look sweet at him is like a spark to gunpowder." "Really, you quite flatter me," said Rena, gaily. "I had no idea that I was so dangerous." The elder lady looked distressed. "Dear Rena," she said, "you know how I love you, and how dearly if such a thing were possible, I should like you for a daughter.^ But even if you liked Fred, which is imf&ssibte, you know that your parents | would never consent, and so, dear, I wish you wouldn't flirt with him. Now, that is frank, is it not?" There was a look of trouble in Mrs. Mercer's face, which Rena was quick to see, but not to fully interpret, not having the key. If her friend had told her all, it might have made a difference, and it might not. Who knows? As it was, she really did mean to be careful about Fred Mercer. She had already one or two unpleasant reminiscenses connected with young gentlemen to whom she had been too kind, and she did not wish to add to the list. Still, she had heard so much of him from his mother, his good looks, his manliness, intelligence, his affectionate disposition, his passionate temper, that she was very curious to see him. She was disappointed in him. Instead of the gay, eager and impulsive young fellow she had expected, she saw a tall, cold, haughty reserved man who looked much i older than he really was, and in place of appearing at all dazzled by her charms, showed her only marked coolness and avoidance. Rena's vanity was piqued. "He shall at least treat me decently," she * resolved and set to work, as only a woman can, to make him do so. The result any one could have foreseen. In a week he was at her feet, not as others had been though. "I did not want to love you," he said simply; "my mother told me you had no heart, but you love me, Rena. If you do not, Heaven help me !" Rena hung her head. The agony of his voice, his looks, pierced her like a knife. She had led him on; she knew that she had enticed him with every sweet word and look. "I am a wicked girl," she said to herself. "I deserve anything?and after what dear Uiv Afproor snirl tn trip ton." "You do love me, llena? I was sure of it," he said. "My mother told me no, that you looked at every one the same way, but I would not believe it. You will be my wife, darling?" Lower, lower went the bright head. "No," she said ; "no." But she could not look at him. He turned cold. "You don't mean it?you can't mean it!" he cried passionately ; "no woman could do by a man as you have done by me, and not love him." "As long as I live," Rena thought, "I will never flirt with anyone again." Fred Mercer fell on his knees before her. Her handsome face was white. The despair and entreaty of his looks were fright1 ful to see. "You do?you must love me!" he said once more. Rena turned away her head. "No," she answered again ; "no. If marrying you would right the wrong I have 4 done you, I would be your wife. But you know as well as I do that no woman could wrong a man more than by marrying him when she did not love him." "But I will teach you to love me." "Oh, no, no; forgive me." He rose to his feet. "1 will never forgive you!" he said bitterly; "you have done me a wrong for which you can make no atonement except the one of becoming my wife. You will not do that?very well. You have ruined my life, and you did it deliberately. You tried to do it. * If ever the time comes when I can make you suffer as you have me, I will do it," Aud then he was gone. Rena Grange was alone. She was very pale, she shivered ?,j Thpn in a moment tllJU. IUUKCU lllglireiibu. - her color began to come back, and she smiled nervous'y. "I'm sorry, and I didn't mean it should go so far," she said. "But who would have thought she would take it so hard ? As for making me suffer, I don't know how he ever can." But after what had happened she felt a strong reluctance to meet him, and it did not seem to her he could ever look Mrs. Mercer in the face. She went the very next day to make a long-promised visit to some friends who liyed in a distant part of the country. When she returned some months later, it was to get ready to be married. She had found her fate at last. She loved with all the s:length of her nature John Arundel, the man she was going to marry. The Mercers had gone away, no one knew where, and Rena felt herself the j cause. But with her remorse for that, min-: gled an undeniable sense of relief that they j were gone. She married in due time and went away ; on the bridal tour. One afternoon, as she sat looking from the window of the hotel where they were stopping for a day or two, she saw a lady and 1 gentleman come in. They were Fred Mercer and his mother. Both were very much altered, she saw, even J in the brief glimpse she got of them as she : drew back quickly her white face. Had they seen her? In five minutes she knew. Some one knocked. It was Mrs. Mercer. She spoke very coldly and hurriedly. "My son is just out of the insane asylum," shesaid. "His father was so; hekilled himself. I ought to have told you, but I could not bear to tell anyone. The doctors pronounced Fred cured, but he is very excitable. Rena, don't let Fred see you. I'm afraid he has already, for he positively refuses to leave the hotel." "Hesha'n't see me," nena answereu, ner white and trembling lips refusing to utter another word. The conviction smote her that he had seen her, and that he would try to speak with her. She had not forgotten his last words: "If I can ever make you suffer as you have me, I will do it." Her husband was asleep in the next room. She passed into it, and stood looking at him. A fair frank-faced man he was, with curly brown hair and lips that smiled even in slumber?not much like the other of whom she was thinking with such dread. "If he ever does hurt me it will be through you, my darling," she thought. One window of this room looked upon a small-flower garden belonging to the hotel. As she stood she raised her eyes to it, and she saw Fred Mercer standing on the terrace outside, and gazing into the apartment. With one hand he held the curtain back, with the other he motioned her to come towards him. Involuntarily she went, though his deathwhite face, his glittering black eyes, ^urned ! her sick with fear. Was he mad again? Oh if her husband would only wake. Her visitor loosed the curtain and laid a cold hand upon her bare shrinking arm. "I've come to keep my word," he said in a whisper. "That is your husband there, it is not?" and he took a pistol slowly out of his breast and pointed it at the sleeping man. "Utter one sound," he said, "and I i shoot." But the caution was needless. Rena was too frozen with horror to either speak or move. "You love him, I suppose?" he went on. "At last, at this moment, you suffer some, at least, of those pangs you once made me endure." Rena could not have moved or spoken if she had tried. She just stood and stared at hiin, and wished John would wake, and prayed inwardly with all her soul: "Dear God, don't let me faint. It isn't John who is to blame, but me, and you know I am a wicked girl better than I can tell you." Which was indeed very true. However, to make a long story short, Rena Arundel did faint, and her husband was awakened by the sound of her falling. Fred Mercer stood inside the room now. "I am an old acquaintance of your wife," he said, in answer to his stare of amazement. "She was standing at the window talking to me, when something frightened her and she fainted." At this moment Rena opened her eyes. She was in her husband's arms and he was saying to Fred Mercer in a very stern voice: "I know all about you. The besr. thing you can do is to leave." Rena shuddered, but to her amazement Mercer instantly passed through the low window, and, standing outside, turned and looked at her. "I beg Mrs. John Arundel's pardon for keeping my words so literally true to her. I I shall never trouble her again." And he was gone. Rena clung to her husband convulsively. I "I am the wickedest girl that ever lived, ! John. Fred Mercer has just come out of the j insane asylum. There is madness in his family, and if he goes back again it will be j my fault. "He won't go back?no fear, my darling," her husband answered soothingly. There was a long silence, ana then Rena, I without lifting her head from her husband's j shoulder said: "John, I am a wicked girl, am I not?" John Arundel laughed. "You are my darling." "It is a million times more than I deserve," she said: "and you are the best man that ever lived to love me so, knowing my faults." "I don't think you have any." "That is just the way you inen all talk; ; and you help us flirt?you know you do." "I don't doubt it, my darling. Men are as bad flirts as women, and I think they do just as much mischief." "Yes, I suppose so," Rena answered sadly. And here is where I believe in Rena. They were in society, and she was much | admired, but she never became a married i flirt. She had erirls of her own in the course of time, and they got the benefitof her experience and remorse in such earnest and oft repeated words of caution as they never forgot. ou Tea as a Beverage.?Use a china or porcelain pot. If you do use metal let it j be tin, new, bright and clean; never use; it when the tin is worn out and the iron is | exposed. If you do, you are playing the chemist and forming a tannate or tea-ate of iron. Use black tea. Green tea when good is kept at home. What goes abroad is bad and horrible. Besides containing the two hundred and three adulterations the Chinese philanthropist puts up for the outside barbarian, it is always pervaded by copper dust from the dirty curing pans of the growers. Infuse your tea. Don't boil it! Place one teaspoonful of tea in the pot and pour over it one and a half cups of boiling wa- i ter?that is, water really boiling. Ifyourtea is poor, use more. It is cheaper, though, to buy good tea at the outset. Put your pot on the back of the stove, carefully covered, so that it shall not lose its heat and the tea its boquet. Let it remain there live min-' utes. Then drink it. Drink your tea plain. Don't add milk nor sugar. Tea brokers and i tea-tasters never do; epicures never do; the Chinese never do. Milk contains fibrin, albumen or some other such stuff and the ! tea a delicate amount of tannin. Mixing the two makes the liquid turbid. This turbidity, if I remember the cyclopaedia aright, is tannate of fibrin, or leather. People who put milk in tea are therefore drinking boots and shoes in mild disguise.? Wong Chin Foo in the Conk. 4. -4. teg1* A London doctor has lately collected some curious statistics about the longevity of public and professional men. lie says that the average ago of death of the twentyfive most prominent American statesmen during the last JIUO years was sixty-nine. The average of an equal number of English statesmen was seventy years?practically the same. He thought the latter did more work at an advanced age. The difference in favor of Euglish, as compared with American, political life was brought out by comfiaring the ages at death of members of the ! British Parliament with those of the United States Congress, who died between 18(50 and 1884. Of our Senators, fifty-nine gave an average of sixty-one years; 145 liepresentatives averaged fifty-five years, and the av- j erage of both was fifty-eight years. The 1 121 members of Parliament averaged sixtyeight years at death. fjjtoteis ott foreign puuis. SKETCHES OF TRAVEL IN SCOTLAND. BY REV. R. LATH AN. ? . [Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.] Since Glasgow is the second city in Great Britain, and its increase has been greater during the present century, than that of any other city or town east of the Atlantic, we would naturally conclude that its rapid growth is due to the intellectual and religious character of its population. This would not be a proper conclusion in judging of the growth of an American city. The growth of our cities is largely due to immigration. Foreigners pour into our sea port towns by the thousands every year. This is especially true of the Northern cities of the United States. Annually, insular and continental Europe disgorge ship loads of their worthless population on our American shores. Such beiner the case the increase in the pop ulation of many of our northern and northwestern cities is largely due to the vast number of immigrants. These immigrants, coming from every quarter of the globe, give to the population of some sections of our country a motly appearance. It is true that in time they become Americanized. They give up their vernacular language and adopt the English, they conform to the manners- and customs of the country and change their mode of living and direct their thoughts into new channels, still each immigrant retains enough of his original nationality to tinge the whole population. Glasgow has grown rapidly but the inhabitants are mainly Scotchmen "to the manor born." Its growth and prosperity are due mainly, to the wonderful mechanical skill, intellectual culture and especially to the Christian character of the population. Scotland is noted as the birthplace of great men. The Scotch are the most remarkable Sabbath observing people on earth. They stand first among Christians as worshipers of God, night and morning around the fire side. The principal educational institution in Glasgow is the University. This dates back to the time of papal ascendancy. It was founded by Bishop Turnbull. The bill granting liberty to form the corporate body was obtained early in January, 1450. The University of Edinburgh, which, perhaps, enjoys a greater reputation and possesses nearly twice as large an income, was not founded until 1582?one hundred and thirtytwo years after that of Glasgow. The University of Glasgow was first on | Rottenrow. It was afterwards moved to High Street. In 18G0, the Commissioners, who had charge of the Universities, reported that it was necessary to reconstruct the building, and that the present site was not favorable to such an undertaking. The col1 rwwAim/la tirV* ?nK Kor! Knnn /Inna fori K\r ICgC gJLUUUUOj >T 11XV/11 HC4V4 UbVU UV1IUIVU wj Lord Hamilton, were sold for five hundred thousand dollars, and new buildings erected on Gilmore hill. The present site of the University is very fine. It is in the northwestern section of the city, north of the river Kelvin, a small stream which winds through that part of the city, making, in its meanderings, a semi-eircle. In one of the angles formed by the Kelvin, on the top of a considerable elevation, is the University. From this elevation a splendid view of the valley of the Clyde and surrounding country is obtained. The buildings are not complete. Fortythree acres of land were purchased in 1864, for three hundred and twenty thousand dollars. This was the Gilmore hill proper. A short time afterward another land purchase was made for one hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars. This last purchase was made for the site for a hospital. The whole amount of land purchased was not quite fiftyacres, and yet it cost four hundred and ninety-two thousand dollars. The estimated cost of the building, including the hospital, was one million three hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars, but the cost of the building has gone fa^ beyond the estimate. The building, up to the present time, has cost two million and seventy-five thousand dollars, and it is estimated that it will require fully three hundred and fifty thousand dollars to complete it. This jimnnnt. ns I understood, does not include the hospital buildftig, which cost six hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. The whole, when completed, according to the plan adopted, will cost more than three million dollars. The building is a huge Franco-Scottish structure, six hundred feet long and three hundred wide. At each end there is a block one hundred and twenty-nine feet long, sixty wide and one hundred high. The centre of the building is surmounted by a tower one hundred and fifty feet high, upon which it is designed to erect a spire one hundred and fifty feet high. The building is planned into twoquadranglesdivided by a common hall. This common hall and the spire on top of-the tower are not complete. The floors of the class-rooms and halls cover six acres. The University is under the control of three courts, the senators, the faculty and the comitia. The senators is the governing court, the faculty have authority to teach and the comitia possess some sort of electoral power. There are thirty-eightprofessors beside a number of tutors. The l_ niversity of Glasgow is in the strict sense of the word a university. Everything within the range of human knowledge is taught, and the student is permitted, with some restriction, to make his own selection of studies and study hard or none at all, just as he sees fit. This is true, with some qualification, of all those world renowned institutions. Their greatness principally consists in huge piles of stone and mortar and in enormous pecuniary endowments. The sending of a boy to them to be educated is generally a loss of the boy's time and a waste of the parent's money. As, however, the human family are fond of glare and take a special pleasure in being deceived, it is well enough for every man who has the money to send his son to one of these pretentious institutions to be educated. The fact that he has been there will give him, without brains or knowledge, a position in society, which the graduate from an humble institution cannot take, no matter what his abilities or what his attainments. "What varied wonders tempt us as they pass, The cow-pox, tractors, galvanism, gas, I'ntil the empty bubble bursts and all is air." A multitude of young men, constantly, in some way or other, manage "to get through," as it is called, the universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, and Princeton and Yale colleges, who would have learned far more at home in an old field school. On the other hand these institutions occasionally send out individuals who are a credit, not only to the institutions themselves, but to the human family. In addition to the University, there are in Glasgow several other institutions of learning of considerable reputation and worth. Of these the Free Church College and Anderson's University may be mentioned. The primary schools are said to ue very good MM SumuieiiL ill nuiuun IW meet the necessities of the city. This, I was told, is a thing of recent date. When the population was perhaps one hundred thousand less than it is at present there were in the city twenty-thousand children who received no education at all. The j number of children at present receiving no education is about three thousand. I made some effort to learn the amount of money raised for the educating of the poor i children and the mode of raising it, but I j was not very successful. All that I certainly learned was that in 1872 an Education Act was passed which gave the school board 1 the authority to raise on the rents of the I city an amount of money sufficient to meet | the demand. The School Board rate, as it j is called, is about one dollar and sixty cents per hundred on the rental, and the whole amount raised about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The city of Glasgow is noted for its varied industries. The ship-building yards of the Clyde extend from Iiutherglen, two miles above Glasgow, to Greenock, twenty-one miles below it. Nearly one half of the ton age built in the kingdom of Great Britain is landed from the Clyde yards. In addition to ship building, capitalists are engaged in dyeing, bleaching and calico-printing. This last industry was begun near the city in the year 1738, and in the year 1787 chlorine, for bleaching purposes, was first used in Great Britain in Glasgow on the suggestion of James Watt. The Scotch are a people of great industry snd enterprise. They undertake great things and they accomplish great things. They are not by any means a rash, reckless people. On the contrary they are a cool, calculating and persevering people. Evidences of this are seen everywhere. The soil is generally poor, rocky and mountainous, but in spite of these natural disadvantages many of the Scotch have accumulated colossal fortunes and Scotch capitaf*' is scattered all over the United States. Glasgow has been either the birth place or the home of a long list ofjllustrious men. Among those of recent da# may be mentioned Professor Sandford, whose attainments in Greek literature were marvelous; Adam Smith the father of the science of political economy; Drs. Reid, Hutcheson, and Simpson, all authors of text books popular in their day. In' Glasgow William Motherwell was|born, and in it he lived and was buried. William Motherwell was -r> nr^r\4- Af Q/inf/th +trrvo Tn I iV II UC pucb ui I??IV pui v uvvwu vj pv. ?.?* every line which he wrote there is beauty and feeling, but some of his poems are exquisitely beautiful, and full of tenderness. His "Jeanie Morrison" has no equal in any language except it be Burns' Higland Mary. The following are the two last stanzas of Jeanie Morrison : I've wandered cast, I've wandered west, I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that lirst burst frae this heart Still travels on its way; , And channels deeper as it runs The love o' life's young day. 0 dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sundered young, I've never seen yor face, nor heard The music o' your tongue; But I could hug all wretchedness, And happy could I die, Did I but ken your heart still dreamed O' bygone days and me." In A Sabbath Summer Noon there are some passages which for beauty of diction and deep religious feeling are beyond all praise. It is too long or I would quote it entire. This is not necessary since it is contained in some of the school readers. I cannot, however, relrain from quoting a few stanzas near the close as follows: "Dear Lord, thy shadow is forth spread On all mine eye can see ; And filled at the pure fountain head Of deepest piety, My heart loves all created things, And travels home to thee. So, even now this hour hath sped In rapturous thoughts o'er me. Feeling myself with nature wed? A holy mystery? A part of earth a part of heaven, A part, Great God, of Thee." Motherwell was born in 1797 and died in 1835. He was buried in the necropolis of Glasgow near his bosom friend William TTnnrloronn Xl^UUViOVll Robert Pollock, the author of The Course of Time, graduated in Glasgow in 1820. In Glasgow he studied Theology under Rev. John Dick, D. D., and in Glasgow he wrote The Course of Time. So weak was he that often while writing that poem his friends were obliged to take him up from his seat at his table, and undress and lay him in bed. Pollock was born in 1798 and died in 1827. Rev. John Jamieson, D. 1).. author of the History of the Caldees ana An Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, was born in the city of Glasgow and graduated from the University. Dr. Jamieson was a voluminous writer, but his principal works are those mentioned. These are authority on the subjects of which they treat. With a brief notice of John Dick I will close this sketch. Dr. Dick was not born in Glasgow, neither was he educated in Glasgow, but he spent nearly thirty-two years there both as pastor and professor of divinity in the Secession Theological Seminary. Dr. Dick was born at Aberdeen in 17G4, was educated in King's College, Aberdeen, studied theology under Rev. John Brown, of Haddington, and waslicensed to preach the gospel in 1785. In 178(5 he settled as pastor of the Secession congregation of Stateford. In 1801 he, having demitted the Stateford consrefration. was settled over the Shuttle-street"(now Greyfriars) congregation in Glasgow. In 1820 he was, on the death of Br. Lawson, elected professor of theology in the Seminary of the Associate Synod. 1833, after a short illness, death brought his labors to a close. In the Necropolis there is a beautiful monument erected to his memory. It stands near the monument of John Knox, the greal reformer, and in close proximity to that of Macgavin, the author of The Protestant. On the sides of Dr. Dick's monument are engraved in Greek the following words: "Say not the good ever die, he sleeps a sacred sleep." The reputation of Dr. Dick wasnoteonfined to Scotland. In 1815 Princeton College, New Jersey, conferred upon him the degree of Doctor in Divinity. His work on "the Inspiration of the Scripture" was regarded long before his death as a standard work by English divines. During the whole period that Dr. Dick was professor of theology he was also pastor of one of the j largest and most influential congregations in the city of Glasgow. We can judge of ! V. 1? K!o ltT. J-MCK HSU ureuuiici Ulll^ vj 1110 (luunn..ed works and by the opinion of those who heard him. The testimony of those who heard him preach is uniformly favorable. His body has been in the grave more than half a century, but he is still remembered in Glasgow as a pre-eminently good man. While living he was venerated by the people of his charge, reverred by the students of theology and honored and esteemed by the inhabitants of the city. During his lifetime Dr. Dick published a number of pamphlets and small volumes. After his death his Lectures on Theology were published, by whom 1 am not certain but think by one of his sons, at the instigation of others. These have been frequently republished both in Great Britain and America. They were not prepared for publication, but for the author's own use in instructing his classes in theology. They consist of one hun! dred and five carefully prepared lectures on I theology, taking the Westminster Confession of Faith as a formula. The diction of j these lectures is equal to that of Maeaulay. I In some respects the style of Dr. Dick is superior to that of Maeaulay. The periods | of the great English historian and essayist | are always smooth and round, but some! times his adjectives are so numerous and so I stroncr )i? tn <rive the truth the appearance ! and often the effect of fiction. The style of I Dr. Dick is always as clear as crystal, as smooth as oil, and has the dignity and state| liness of truth. Dr. Dick, in his Theologic| al Lectures, makes no effort either to go behind or beyond the word of God, hence he has sometimes, and by certain theological schools, been charged with wanting originality. While this close adherence of Dr. ! Dick to the Bible deprives his lectures of the startling, it is calculated to give us I confidence in the conclusions he reaches. I Turnbull who heard the lectures of Dr. i Dick delivered, thus describes their author: 1 "He is always lucid, always logical and satisfactory, heis never profound or original. His style glides in pellucid beauty, like a rivulet through a meadow, mirroring in its calm depth the green foliage which adorns its banks, and the blue heavens bending above it, but never cutting itself a new channel, or sweeping onward, with majestic force, like a torrent to the sea." It is difficult to decide whether the first part or the last part of this sentence is the more complimentary to the memory of him on whose monument it is engraved : "Say not that the good ever die, he sleeps a sacred sleep." He who cuts new channels in theology generally cuts them into the sea of error into which he and his followers go sweeping on to destruction. sftUsccllaucous Reading. TESTS FOR IMPURITIES U WATER. To know whether water is hard or soft, dissolve a little white soap in alcohol, and add a few drops of the water under investigation. If the alcohol turns milky, the water is hard ; if either unaltered or simply cloudy, it is soft. To detect a copper percentage add a little tiling dust of soft iron to the water, leave it for a few minutes, and add a few drops of sal ammoniac. A blue colorization betrays the presence of copper. Sulphur combinations are detected by adding a little water to the mercury in the bottle; this is closed and left to stand for a few hours. Ifthe mercury assumes a darker surface, and, upon shaking separates into gray powder, it is a sign that the water contains sulphur combinations. Dissolved pure lime is proven by adding one or two crystals of oxalic acid to the water. A milky precipitate betrays the presence of lime. Sulphate of lime (gypsum) is recognized by the white precipitate caused by chloride of barium in the solution. The precipitate is not redissolved by nitric acid. Alkalies and alkaline earths are detected as follows: Ulue Litmus paper is colored feeblv red with dilute vineerar. and dipped into the corresponding water! If the former blue color is restored the water is alkaline. An iron percentage is recognized by a few drops of nutgall decoction, which are added to the water. If iron is present the water assumes an inky gray to black color. Also one drop of solution of ferrocyanide of potassium colors ferruginons water blue. To detect magnesia the water is to be heated to boiling, and the point of a knife full of carbonate ammonia and a little phosphate of soda are added. If the magnesia is present it is precipitated. Acids are ascertained by dipping a small piece of litmus paper in the water. A red colorization betrays their presence. Water for carbonating or domestic use, and for distribution through pipes into dwellings in cities, towns, villages, and other places should be derived from sources that afford adequate quantities at all seasons, characterized as being: 1. Wholesofne for drinking, for culinary and for other uses. 2. Soft, without having the power to dissolve or injure lead, and well adapted lor washing the person, for use in baths, and for use with soap. 3. Of a normal uniform temperature at its source equal to the average of the climate for the year. 4. Well aerated, holding in solution eight or more cubic inches of gases per gallon, namely, about two of oxygen, six of nitrogen; agreeable and refreshing when drunk. 5. Clear, transparent, colorless, bright, and, when seen in large bulk, pure blue, the natural color of uneontaminated water. G. Unable to cause a deposit or fur in the utensil in which it is heated or boiled. 7. Free from organisms, animal or vegetable, living or dead, and matter in suspen sion. Water in its natural or normal condition characterized by all these seven qualities may be abundantly obtained in some portions of the globe. MRS. JULIA T. GRANT. Mrs. Julia T. Grant, the wife of General Grant, is oneofthe most conspicuous women of our day. Apart from being the wife of the great soldier of his day, she possesses qualities which alone would place her above the level of her sex. Her constant watchfulness during the General's sickness and her noble action in refusing the offer of Mr. Vanderbilt to create a trust fund out of the proceeds of General Grant's real estate, which had been assigned to the millionaire after the failure of Grant A Ward, will long be remembered. Mrs. Grant is the daughter of Judge Dent, of Missouri, and was born on his farm at Whitehaven, in that State. She first became known to General Grant through her brother, whose life Grant saved during the Mexican war, and who was the latter's chum at West Point. The union of the young couple was at first opposed by the elder Dent, but the saving of his son annulled all objections, and the mar-? A--1- * ..,,4. 00?,1 1QIQ of C + riftge IOOK piHCC -tt-Ugu.-SL -uu, jlo-io, aL ui. Louis. The first winter of their married life was spent at Sackett's Harbor, where Grant had been ordered. In 1849 they commenced housekeeping in Detroit, but in 1850 Mrs. Grant returned to her father's house in St. Louis, where their first son, Frederick I). Grant, was born. During the civil war Mrs. Grant stayed alternately with her father's family, in St. Louis, and her husband's family, in Covington, Ky. She, however, lost no opportunity to visit Grant in the field, notably after the fall of Fort Donelson, his first great victory. When Vicksburg fell, whicn made the name of Grant a household word, she was serenaded by an enthusiastic populace in St. Louis. After the war she lived with her husband in Washington, and when the latter became President, became mistress of the White House, from which her only daughter, Nellie, was married to Algernon Sartoris, an English gentleman, of old family. The marriage attracted universal attention at the time, and was fully described by the newspapers. Upon General Grant's tour around the world Mrs. Grantaccompanied him. Skill With the Lasso.?It is no credit to a cowboy to catch a bull by the horns, says a Fort Keogh letter, for he cannot be thrown by them and is simply held as a prisoner, but the skill in throwing a lasso is to pitch the noose in front of an animal when he is going at full gallop, so that the next step he treads into it. The (fcwboy tried It on a bull while both of our ponies were jumping along a dead run. The old fellow was going about as fast as we were, but the fatal loop shot through the air at a tangent and fell, wide open, just in front of him on the ground. The left fore foot plunged square into the circle, the rope was tightened with a sudden jerk and the steer rolled over in the dust, as cleverly caught as anything I ever saw. The broncho too, understood his part of the business thoroughly, for he bore at the right moment in the opposite direction, else he might have been thrown instead of the bull, to which he was much inferior in weight. Aiking Beds and Booms.?The air of a sleeping room should be constantly renewed from without, yet it should not be icy cold. It is amazing to see in otherwise well informed people the lingering prejudice against night air, which makes them willing to breathe vitiated air all the night long. Attention to the airing of beds and bedding cannot be too great, and it ought to be insisted upon in every house. The hurry to have rooms in order early causes beds to be made up before they have been thoroughly permeated by air, and sunlight, and gives them that close, stuffy smell which is a sure index of deficient cleanli ness. During the night the body throws off, through the invisible pores of the skin much impurity, and to make up a bed while mattress, sheets and blankets are still sweltering with animal heat is a thing no neat, intelligent housekeeper should ever do under any pressure of hurry. The rest of the room can be set to rights, and the bed clothes spread over chairs, with windows open, until a late hour, and nobody will be hurt. When a bed room is the common sitting or sewing apartment of a family, it should be thoroughly aired for half an hour before dark, everybody vacating it for the purpose, and again before the occupants retire. A Story op Ingratitude.?We find this story in a New York letter to the Sunday Oreffonian: This hotel, by the way, was built on the ground once occupied by the mansion of Nathaniel Prime, the Jay Gould of fifty years ago. It may be added, parenthetically, this same banker, Prime, once when a poor young man, went to a Southern planter, on a visit at the time to New York, and asked for the loan of $5,000. "Whatsecurity can you give?" asked the planter. "The word of.an honest man," answered Prime." The planter eyed him for an instant and then replied : "You shall have it." This sum gave Nathaniel Prime his first I great start in life and he soon paid the debt. Years rolled on and he became the leading banker of the city. One day the planter, who had befriended him at the outset of his career, came to him in poverty and asked him for the loan of the same sum that he had lent Prime so opportunely. The banker remembered him well, but asked : "What security can you give?" "The word of an honest man," answered 1 the planter echoing Prime's own words of years before. "That won't do in Wall street," was the banker's reply. The planter seemed dazed by such an answer and left without a word. The man who was capable of such ingratitude had become a miser, a monomaniac on the subject of money, and in his old age, became insane in the midst of wealth over the thought that he might by some possibility die poor, commtted suicide by cutting his throat in his mansion that occupied the ?ite, as already stated, of the present Washington building. _ Mr. Davis and Gen. Grant.?Some time ago the Boston Globe wrote to Hon. Jefferson Davis for his opinion as to Gen. Grant's military career. Mr. Davis answered the request on April 2nd, but directed that it should not be published until after Gen. Grant's death. The following is Mr. Davis' answer: Beauvoir, Miss., April 2, i880. mir:? Your letter asking me to give my views on the subject of Gen. Grant's military career j has been received. With most respectful | consideration for you and the influential paper you represent, I must decline to comply with the request for the following reasons: Gen. Grant is reported dying. Although he invaded our country with ruthless track it was with open liana, and, so far as I know, he abetted neither pillage nor arson. When his armies were so successful that General Lee's army had not even the power further to retreat, Gen. Grant gave terms both liberal and courteous, and has since the war, I believe, shown no malignity nor perpetuated slander against the Confederates, either of the military or civil service. Therefore, instead of seeking to disturb the quiet of his closing hours, I would, if it were in my power, willingly contribute to the repose of his mind and comfort of his body. Jefferson Davis. A Dog With a Mercantile Turn.?I was sitting one day in front of a shop in the old Etruscan city of Ferentino. Presently an ill-bred dog of the pointer kind came and sat down in front of me, looking up in my face and wagging his tail to attract my attention. "What does that dog want?" I asked. "Signore," he answered, "he wants you to give him a soldo to go and buy you a cigar with." I gave the dog the coin, and he presently returned, bringing a cigar, which he held cross-wise in his mouth until I took it from him. Sent again and again, he brought me three or four cigars from the tobacco shop. At length the dog's demeanor changed, and he gave vent to his impatience by two or three low whines. "What does he want now?" I asked. "He wants you to give him 2 soldi to go to the baker's and buy bread for himself." I gave him a 2-soldo piece, and in a few minutes the dog returned with a small loaf of bread, which he laid at my feet, at the same time gazing wistfully in my face. "He won't take it until you give him leave." I gave the requisite permission, and the animal seized the loaf and disappeared with it in his mouth. "He always does like this," said the standers-by, "whenever he sees a stranger in Ferentino." I "rvwrtv> Tirwn' tos Rvk "?Thf> nonular misconception of this well-known ditty is to the effect that the Scottish bard who wrote it?ltobert Burns?intended to picture in the fascinating lines a laddie and lassie meeting and kissing in afield of grain. The couplet: If a laddie meet a lassie, Comin' thro' the rye, and especially the other two lines: A' the lads they smile on me, When comin' thro' the rye, seem to imply that traversing the rye was an habitual or common thing among the "lads and lassies" in the Land o' the Scots, and suggest, perhaps a harvest scene, where both sexes, as was the custom are at work reaping, and where they would come and go through the fields, if indeed not through the rye itself, so as to meet and kiss in it. The truth is however, the rye in the song is not grain at all, it being the name of a small shallow stream near Ayr, which, havjng neither bridge nor ferry, was forded by the people going to and from market, custom allowing a lad to steal a kiss from any lass of his acquaintance whom he might meet in midstream. ~ .... - - + ^ The Story of Dives Explained.?Dr. H , who fills a suburban pulpit out West, is of a practical turn of mind, and not infrequently impresses his congregation by original expositions of the Scriptures. In one of a recent series of discourses upon Lazarus the doctor said : "Now some fool of an infidel will say: 'How could Abraham hear the rich man calling all the way from Heaven to Hades? This, my friends will not be difficult to comprehend when it is remembered that we are talking by telephone a hundred miles or more every day." But again: "This was an actual occurrence. It was not a mere parable that the Lord was relating but a real happening. He says: 'There was a man,' etc. Lazarus was doubtless the name of the poor man, but the name of the rich man is not given. He is called Dives. This was not his name, however. Divea is simply a Latin word, mean1 --l "VT^xitr ttaii moxr in | ing ncn, or ncn num. xhjw juu inquire why his name was not also given? I And the most probable explanation is that the Lord withheld the name of the deceased out of consideration for the feelings of his surviving friends."?Harper'* Magazine. ?. ? ? The Placidity of Franklin.?There is a sort of intensity which requires no strength of passion, none of the burning phrase we are accustomed to associate most usually with eloquence, the placid intensity of steady conviction and cool determination. Of this kind Benjamin Franklin is the great example. Perseverance, courage, learning, sound judgment and the strongest and most masculine exhibition of determined struggle were his; yet he never made a speech or wrote a line of passionate declamation. If one should try and describe his surface character in a word, it would be, placidity. Yet who of all the revolutionary statesmen accomplished more than he? Who left so deep an impress on the thought and policy of the age in which he lived ??St. Louis (1 lobe-Democrat. THE MAN ON CEDAR HILL. A REMINISCENCE OF MISSIONARY RIDGEHOW GENERAL MANIOA ULT MIGHT HAVE MADE HISTORY. Among: the incidents of his recent trip through the South, Gen. Brinkerhoff relates a story of the battles about Chattanooga, which just now, whilst the attention of the nation is concentrated on the man who at that time directed the armies on the Union side, may be interesting. "On my way from Charleston to Columbia," said Gen. Brinkerhoff, "I fell into conversation with Gen. A. M. Manigault, the present adjutant-general of the State of South Carolina. Finding that I had recently been at Chattanooga, he told me that he was in those battles, and commanded a brigade near the centre of the Confederate line at Missionary Ridge. "He said the finest sight he ever saw was the advance of the Union army with 60,000 men in line. "The day before the final fight at Missionary Ritige, Gen. Manigault had his headquarters on an elevated point known as Cedar Hill, but upon the advance of the Union army the Confederates fell back about three-quarters of a mile, and took up a position on Missionary Itidge. As the Union army advanced, Gen. Manigault observed that Cedar Hill, the position evacuted by I him the day before, was now occupied by j some one, evidently of high rank. He could j see through his glass that orderlies were coming and going in such numbers as to make it very certain that some person of importance was then on Cedar Hill, and one who must at least rank high as a division or corps commander. "As he watched the hill the maxim of Napoleon in regard to destroying or disabling the guiding mind of an opposing army, occurred to him. Napoleon under such circumstances advised the concentration of a number of batteries and a whole broadside in order to make sure work, and as Gen. Manigault had several batteries of I rifled guns, he felt very sure that he could kill or cripple the officer on Cedar Hill, but as he had orders not to waste any ammunition until ordered from headquarters, he sent for his division commander and suggested the propriety of sweeping Cedar Hill. He was told that the orders of Gen. Bragg were imperative on account of the scarcity, of ammunition, to reserve fire for close quarters. However, he said he would see Gen. Bragg and ask his consent. Gen. I Bragg declined, and so said Gen. Manigault, 'I lost an opportunity of changing the cur! rent of history, for a week or two afterj wards my pickets brought me a Cincinnati newspaper with Gen. Grant's report of the battles of Missionary Ridge, from which I T 1 ? ? A 4-Urti 4-Ua *v?on An I 'oHQ T Mill WHS JL learueu tnau mc juau uu WUUJ. AA??* ?> Gen. Grant himself, and I am very sure that with the batteries at my command I could have killed or crippled him." " 'I have had in mina, for many years,' said Gen. Manigault, 'to tell Gen. Grant this story, if by chance I should meet him, but it is not likely now that I will ever have an opportunity.' "?From the 3fauafield, Ohio, Herald. , ? Plow Trees Die.?When Dean Swift facetiously predicted that he would die like a tree, by "going off at the top," anticipating the failure ot his mental powers, he correctly described the beginning of natural decay in trees. There are exceptions, but as a rule the visible signs of decay begin at the top. The cause of decay may lie elsewhere, but the top limbs are the first parts that become paralyzed. The enfeebled vitality is unable to drive the sap to the extremities, the pores being choked up, and the limb dies. This is apparent in mostly all plants and trees that die what may be called a natural death. At all times the circulation and the vitality is weakest at the extremities, just as in animals, and it may almost always be noticed that most injury from cold is done, not always to the most exposed parts, but to the extremities of the shoots. It is this vigor, the nearer we get to the root, which has no doubt led cultivators to suppose that cutting alimb back puts strength into a plant, but the idea is quite erroneous. Undoubtely the further we cut back at the right season the stronger does the shoot grow for a certain distance, but no additional strength is added. What was wanting before cannot be put there again by the removal of any portion of what is left.? Chicago limes. The Waters of Utah.?There is in the extreme north of Utah a magnificent subterranean reservoir of first-class soda water, bubbling and effervescing out of the ground in such quantities that all America might be supplied. In the extreme south, on the road to Orderville, is an exquisite circular lakelet that is always full to the brim with water as clear and as green as beryl. And wherever the water overflows the lake's edge it incrusts the ground and the grass and the fallen leaves upon it with a fine coating of limestone, so that the brim is perpetually growing higher and higher with the imnerepntihlfi hut certain growth of a coral reef and in course of generations the lake will become a concreted basin. Between these two points are scattered all over the country springs and pools of the strongest waters. There is another that mysteriously replenishes itself with halfgrown trout. One stream that I saw, though clear as crystal to the eye and tasteless, stains all the vegetation it flows over a deep brown. A warm spring near Salt Lake I City is the strongest sulphur water in the world. A "hot spring," a few miles on, with waters so hot that you can hardly put your hand into them, and as bright as diamonds, is one of the most remarkable combinations of chemicals ever analyzed.?Bonton Budget. What Men fall in Love With.?Men fall in love they say, with beauty, with goodness, with gentleness, with intellectual qualities, with a sweet voice, with a smile, with an agreeable manner, with a I lovable disposition, with many ascertaina[ ble and measurable things, and yet we find | them continually falling in love with woI men who are not beautiful, nor good, nor I wise, nor gentle, nor possessing any ascerjtainableor measurable thing. You'll find I one hundred reasons given for falling in j love, or being in love, and rarely the right ! reason?which is commonly simply because a man cannot help it. He is in love because a mysterious force in nature has touched him. The woman may be unbeautiful, heartless, selfish cruel, untrue, coarse frivolus, empty, but if the magic of nature? something of the magic, I suspect, that Puck used on the eyes of Tritan?touches 1 him he sees not one of these things in their j true aspect. Yes, the Titanias that have I fallen in love with men crowned with donI key heads, and the men that have fallen in J love with serpents, thinking them doves, are j many?and all because of a diabolism or a j mystic fury in nature that delight, in bringing incongruous elements together for the sake of a dance of delirium. Hevolutionaky Survivors.?Karly in J the late civil war it was announced that j none of the soldiers of the Revolution were I alive, and this, falling under the eye of a I gentleman living in Hartford, who knew j that at least one survivor remained, he dej termined to learn, if possible, whether there [ were others, and to obtain a record which would determine accurately to whom belonged the honor of surviving all his com' rades. The result of his inquiries established beyond all doubt that in 1864 six soldiers of the Revolution lived. These were the Kev. Daniel Waldo, then aged 102; William t Hutchins, aped 100; Adam Link, aged 102; Lemuel Cook, aged 105; Alexander Milliner, ajjed 104, and Samuel Downing, aged 102. Unfortunately it was impossible to learn which one of these survived the others, though there is some reason to believe that the oldest of all, Lemuel Cook, was the last to pass away. All died within a year or two after they had been seen by the gentleman referred to, and one, the Rev. Daniel Waldo, within several months.?Xrw York-Sun.