Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor, f 5U Jftbfjjtitbtnf Jfamiln ||tf fospjif r: Jw f(ic |)r onto (ion of lljt political, Social, ^gritttlfural anb Commercial Interests of t|e South. j terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL 31 YOBKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1885. NO. 44. Selected foettj. THE FAITHFUL ENGINEER, BY WILL S. HAYS. Life is like a crooked railroad ; And tbe engineer is brave, Who can make a trip successful From the cradle to the grave. There are stations all along it, Where at almost any breath You'll be flagged to stop your engine By the passenger of death. You may run the grades of trouble Many ciays and years with ease, But time may have you side-tracked By the switchman of disease. You may cross the bridge of manhood, Run the tunnel long of strife Having God for your conductor On the lightning train of life. Always mindful of instructions, Watchful duty neyer lack, Keep your hand upon the throttle And your eyes upon the track. Name your engine true religion When vou are running day or night - * * - -1 _ * V r., use me cuai ox xuiui xur iuci And she'll always guide you right. You need never fear of sticking On the up grades long the road ; If you've got hope for a fireman You can alwavs null the load. You will often find obstruction, By the cunning devil lain, On a fill, a curve or some place Where he'll try to ditch your train. But you needn't fear disaster? Jerk her open, let her go? For the king that ruleth all things, All his plans will overthrow. Put your trust in God the Saviour, Keep a going?don't look backKeep vour hand upon the throttle And your eyes upon the track. When you've made the trip successful And "you are at your journey's end, You'll find the angels waiting To receive you as a friend. You'll approach the Superintendent Who is waiting for you now With a blessed smile of welcome And a crown to deck your brow. Never falter in your duty, Put your faith and hope in Him And you'll always find your engine In the best of running trim. Ring your bell and blow your whistleNever let your courage'slack? Keep your hand upon the throttle Ana your e\Tes upon the track. ibc Stotir iellet. - " - V- - - <& "lawyer and parson. The Rev. Dr. Melton, was just beginning to feel at home in his new parsonage when he was surprised one evening to receive a call from his classmate Harvy Leigh. In college days they had been friends, and for a while after their graduation they had exchanged letters and visits; but the letters and visits had come to an end long ago, and it was many years since they had met. As they sat in the book-lined study, each eyed the other curiously. Years sat lightly on Mr. Leigh, and he was dressed fashionably, almost youthfully. In his dark red neck scarf was thrust a gold dog's head with ruby eyes, and to the parson, the scarf and dog's head suggested a sporting character, and he wondered mildly that a highly respectable, prosperous, middle-aged lawyer should thus adorn his person. "Well," Mr. Leigh said, "and how do you fancy the idea of becoming a metropolitan preacher, and seeing your sermon garbled in Monday morning's paper ?" "The papers didn't garble my sermon this week," the doctor said. "On the contrary the reporters picked out the best and overlooked the worst in the kindest and most flattering fashion." Mr. Leigh laughed. "You won't be amiable to reporters when you know them better. This is quite a change from your old life, and an agreeable change, no doubt. Or do you believe that God made the country and man made the town." "I believe that God made them both, and man tries his best to spoil both," the parson answered. "Ah, that's neat?very neat. By the way, I ought to call you doctor. I read your book on the Atonement with a good deal of pleasure." The parson winced, but Mr. Leigh did not observe that. "I don't wonder the college doctored you for it, though your ideas must seem rather liberal to the musty old fogies who peddle out Lat in ana lirees ana tneoiogy."I came near being one of the musty old fogies myself," said Dr. Melton. "They wanted me to be a professor, but I prefer to be a parson." "A city parson," said his guest. "I am'not sure about the city part," Dr. Melton said, slowly. "It was pleasant up there in the country; I was attached to my people; I liked to potter about in my garden. I was astonished when I received a call from New York. I don't know that I would have accepted it if one of my deacons had not had a promising son ready to fill my place, and I think that my congregation rather liked the idea of a young dominie. I had about come to the conclusion that I should live and die a country parson; but here I am." "With six thousand dollars a year and a comfortable house," added Mr. Leigh. The parson frowned. "A man with four children has no right to slight a chance of bettering his fortune; but it was not the money that brought me to New York." He broke off suddenly, perhaps because he saw the shadow of a sneer on Mr. Leigh's lips. "And you are still living in Philadelphia?" he asked. "Yes, indeed; I would not live anywhere else. New Yorkers may turn up their noses and call it a village, but Philadelphia suits people who belong to the old quaker stock." "You have a son, I believe, to perpetuate the name?" the parson remarked. "One son?an only child. Morton is twenty-four, and reading law in my office. A bright fellow too; never gives m'e a moment's uneasiness; always at work ; steadygoing ; no boyish nonsense about him." "Twenty-four," the parson repeated, "and no boyish nonsense about him? There is a good deal of nonsense about my boys, I am hap^-sorry to say. Still, I hope they won't disgrace me. Their mother thinks they are all right, and I am learning every day of my life that my wisdom, as com pared witn oiners, is ueiieaui uuutempi. 1 can hardly believe you have a.son twentyfour. Why, you are a spruce young man yourself." "Thanks to a life free from excesses of any kind," said Mr. Leigh. "And I married early?I advocate an early marriage, if a man has money enough to support a family. This waiting to scrape together a paltry income is terribly hard on a young man. Yes, I married early, and I have every reason to believe that my son will follow my example." "And when is your boy to marry ?" asked the doctor. "Oh ! it is not quite arranged yet." "So you arrange marriages in Philadelphia? 'And this particular marriage is not quite arranged? Humph! I don't understand that sort of thing. Up in the country it is, 'Mary, I love you,' and 'Jack, I love you in return,'and then my services are called for. How does one arrange a marriage in Philadelphia?" The touch of sarcasm was quite lost on Mr. Leigh, who had crossed his legs, and sat in absorbing thought, frowning at the Eatent leather tip of his neat shoe. His ost watched him until he uncro&sed his legs and looked up. "Have you any daughters, doctor?" he asked. "Two of them." "Grown up?" "I hope so; otherwise they will tower over my head." "And do you understand them?" asked I Mr. Leigh, with a gravity that made the a< parson's blue eyes twinkle and the corners ? of his mouth twitch. u "Oh, no, I don't understand them; I ir don't understand any creature in petti- si coats: but my daughters are good girls, and their mother assures me that they are L remarkably gifted. What do I want to understand them for?" p "It might be an advantage under some o circumstances," Mr. Leigh remarked. "What is the matter! What girl do you c< think it might be an advantage to under- tl stand ?" cc LI %.Tmm tKA H/1 J) nnotiTAMA/1 AT* T r\i "Qhn mjy wniUj aiowcicu JLUI* ut unv i is an orphan, a far-away cousin of my wife, p: and she has lived with us for the past five w years. She has a nice little fortune; she is tc pretty; she is wellbred?" hi "That goes without saying," muttered the parson, stroking his long beard. ti "But she hasn't a grain of common w sense." Mr. Leigh rose, took up a position 1) on the rug, slippled his left hand under the m short tails of his cut-away coat, and gestic- uj ulated with his right as he warmed to his bi story. "Last summer," he began, "she sj was* twenty-one, and just out of school, vi She went to Cape May with the Phippards, h? people in whom I placed the utmost confidence. I thought she was safe with them ; sa but lo and behold! she must make the ac- w quaintance of a young gentleman who held tl the responsible position of book-keeper in ir one of our large hardware shops, a retail ol concern, and he has sold many a paper of ir tacks over the counter. I was in Europe; ai so this interesting tack-seller ran down to tl Cape May every Sunday, and staid until Monday. Then he had a clerk's two weeks' bi vacation, and he spent that at Cape May. le I came back in October, and before I had been home twenty-four hours who should w call at the house but this young man? He I bi wanted to see me, and 1 saw him, and I tc was informed by him that he had wooed | w and won my ward. I asked if he proposed I hi to take her to live over the shop." 1 h; Mr. Leigh's thin lips curled downward ; j he glanced at the parson for sympathy, but J w he encountered a steady, somewhat criti-; ol cal look. "Why shouldn't they live over the' sa shop?" Dr. Melton said. "Oh, you don't understand," Mr. Leigh ! b: exclaimed, fretfully. "She has been brought | m up in luxury, and she ought to have some ! c* idea of what is proper and fitting. There ; a has been a terrible time. Why, I assure I you I have had the sympathy of all Phila- bi delphia. This hardware man had the ef- > frontery to say that he had money enough i to take care of a wife, just as though he had ! w never inougnc 01 iuy warus iuue juriuue. ai He begged me to go and see his employers? : ir people I never heard of?and I told him ; that I did not want their recommendations; j 3M I did not propose to hire a book-keeper. I ol He was insolent, and I ordered him out. I C? Then she blazed away at me, the weak, infatuated girl. I tried to reason with her; hi my wife talked to her; my son?well, you cc see, my son wanted to marry her, too, and ai he would have made just the husband for e( her, but she told him if he spoke to her she sv would ask her hardware man to protect her. w Think of it! As though Morton would in- tt suit her?the best mannered man that ever ds lived." ec "And Morton is very fond of her," he w continued?"so fond of her, in fact, that he pi waited like a hero for this to blow over. I think the farce is nearly ended, for the hardware man became partner the other day in a nail factory or something of that sort, and a week ago he sailed for Europe, tr He will have to stay a year, traveling for ar his firm, and when he comes back?" Mr. c" Leigh hrokeoffto smile astutely and to drop j a the lid over his left eye. ! w "I dont't exactly understand your objec- | ?f tions to him," said Dr. Melton slowly. 1 "Does he drink or keep low company ?" I "No," answered Mr. Leigh; "but?" j et "I beg your pardon," said the doctor, in- j a* terrupting him, "but I want to speak in his j behalf. He must be industrious, and no ! 6 fool, and prospering, or he would not have \ 0 jumped into this new position. I confess I j don't think you have made out a clear case. I Of course you want to see your son happy; I a' but if she does not love your son that ends j P' the matter. And if she does love this other ! P* man, and he is honest and upright, why j w should he not have her ?" er "He is not her equal," said Mr. Leigh, j "You know in Philadelphia?" a* The parson rose up with a stifled exclama- j tion. 1 d< "It is warm in here," he said. "I want a ?F little fresh air; I am not used to a furnace-11!] heated house. Poor girl! The city has not I yet claimed me for its own, and I miss the ! o( fire-place in my old study. Poor fellow!"'to He threw up the window, and looked out J f? on a wide expanse of tiny high-fenced | m oaCK yarus; out overneau was uiecieur sea, i rof sky, where the moon rode at anchor amid a' the fleet of stars. He stood there, drawing in the crisp December air, until a tapsound- n( ed on the door. "Come in," he cried, and w one of his daughters entered?a tall, slim P' girl with her father's blue eyes. cc "Papa," she said, pressing close to him, ; and smiling mysteriously, "there are some j 111 people in the parlor." "Drawing-room, my dear," said the doc-} *n tor. "We are in Philadelphia." ?1 "We are not, but no matter," she return- rt ed. "I tell you there are some people in ai the parlor, and I think it is our first town c? wedding. She is very pretty, and she has on the loveliest little bonnet you ever saw. f1] Go marry 'em quick, and let'me be a wit- j in ness, only they have two witnesses with them." w He passed his arm about her and kissed j her, she did not know why ; then led her to sc> his guest. P( "Mollie, this is a classmate of mine. My daughter, Mr. Leigh?Mr. Harvey Leigh, 01 of Philadelphia. You must excuse me lor s0 a few minutes." ! 'S He went into adjoining parlor. Yes, it * re was a wedding-party, no doubt, but the ' tfl would-be bride and groom did not look like t(i the brides and grooms that seek out a par- ^ son in such a fashion. The man was a gen-! tli tleman, with a fine face and dignified bear- ui ing. The girl was pretty, but more than if that, she had an air of courage, of self-reli- w ance ; she was not a weak piece of pink and ti; white flesh. An older couple was with ki them, a somewhat frightened middle-aged man and a very nervous middle-aged woman, evidently his wife, for she clung to tli his arm helplessly. [ fe "I am William Dunbar," said the young et man. The parson shook hands with him. ei "And this," he added, turning to the young In lady, "is Miss Kate Perry. We are both of pi age?in fact, I am thirty-three?and I hope tl you will be good enough to marry us." Mr. Dunbar was very much in earnest, ai i?i. i? : 1 ~-i ~ l: **1^ morrluo-o iu pi uui/lie sniiieu a nuic. v.ui ... ... sadden," he added, "because I must sail for b; Europe to-morrow, and I want to take my di wife with me." 01 "The parson looked at him, then at the ai girl. Her eyes met his steadily, though a at faint flush stole into her cheeks." ti "Where is your home?" he asked. in "1 have none," she answered. "I have m neither father nor mother. I have been m living in Philadelphia with my guardian." a The words were spoken softly, but her eyes ai flashed. "I am free to do as 1 please," she ti went on. "My guardian has no right to al dictate any longer." tl "Hum !" said Dr. Melton, passing his a1 hand over his beard. "And you are from ol Philadelphia, too?" he added, turning to ir Mr. Dunbar. b< "I am," was the curt response. ti "Your name sounds familiar," said the b< parson. "Could I have seen it the other d< day in a list of passengers for Europe ?" "He scanned the faces before him. The lo man's jaws clicked; the girl's Hush deepen- ai ed into crimson. ei "We are free to marry," said Mr. Dunbar, tc "There is no reason why we should not be c< man and wife. If you won't perform the us ceremony, I shall find some one who is hi willing. We have with us my uncle and b; aunt; but there is no use in wasting words. 1 tl: Will you marry us?" I ot "Yes," said the parson. Then he asked j m a few formal questions, and married them ' pi ecording to the ritual of the Dutch church. Jg; le begged them to be seated for a minute, diile he filled out the certificate. This S lade it necessary for him to return to the ? :udy. "A runaway country couple?" said Mr. eigh. "I can't swear to the country part," the ] arson answered, as he drew a certificate ut of his desk. . . "I wonder you are willing to perform the z," jremony," Mr. Leigh remarked. "Ishould link it was a great risk to marry runaway juples." fou "The risk is greater without it," said the Hg arson. "If I don't tie the knot, somebody gm ill, and it is generally a satisfaction to one rj > know that the knot is tied. In this case, exl owever, I am quite sure I am doing right." tur - ? - - -- 1- ^ A wl / >? * !* fU ill A AAM _/? J Xie wellfc uaCK iu Hie jJiiuui >viui me eei- oi 1 ficate, taking pen and ink, so that the up itnesses might sign their names. Mr. in< unbar shook him by the hand, leaving a tra ote in his palm. The bride smiled shyly red pon him, and the elderly woman bowed; stri ut the elderly man, who so far had not ocl joken a word, said, suddenly, "I will tell bai ou, sir, that you will never regret having wh elped this marriage." pie "I don't believe I could have helped it," ant tid the parson, with a droll glance at the I ew-made husband. "I might have beeli its le means of deferring it, but Mr. Dunbar pej itends to take his wife to Europe in spite tha " a dozen tyrannical guardians and a dozen it i lore reluctant clergymen. God bless you sin id make you happy!" he added, taking of1 le young wife's hand. art Her eyes filled with tears, but her hus- j and drew her hand through his arm and erj d her away. aw Two carriages were waiting outside. One me entto the north, the other to the south; sed ut the parson watched the one that went ser the south, for in that sat a man and Sai oman whom he believed he had made a i uppy for life, so far as wedded bliss brings tob appiness. tut He returned to the study and gave the ed edding fee to his daughter, who bore it wa tf in triumph to her mother. inh "Does this sort of thing happen often?" mo tid Mr. Leigh. S "Not precisely this sort of thing. The am ride and groom were not girl and boy ; rj either did they belong to what you would thi: ill the common class. By-the-way, it was fou Philarlflnhia nartv?a William Dunbar?" t.hp Mr. Leigh started from his chair. "Dun- tra ar!" he repeated. "And the girl?" ant "Kate Perry?Katherine rather." Thi Mr. Leigh stared at him vacantly. "My spe ard!" he cried, in sudden anger. "And tab fter all I told you ! Why didn't you call Sw le in there?" Gei "How was I to know that?" said Dr. anc [elton. "You never mentioned the name Tai F your ward or her lover. You simply ko tiled him the hardware man. can Mr. Leigh walked out of the library, took old is hat and stick, struggled into his over- mil >at, and left the house without vouchsafing lother word to his host. The parson showI him out, and looked at him walking viftly down the moonlit street. When he P'j ent to his study again he had by no means P? te craven air of a man who has done a P,*:, astardly deed. On the contrary he laugh- ~P 1 outright as he sat down at his desk, \ " hereon lay the notes of his sermon.?Harr's Weekly. ^ nat THE ONLY REI> EAR. T Col. Osbourne, a grizzly gambler who, in ?? ie good old days "befo' the wah," won id lost many a dollar on the big double- ?t ickers on the Lower Mississippi, sat, on Pro bale of cotton at the wharf oue day last mC( eek. There were large rents in the back ?f * his russet coat, and his trousers were ^s i [firm with age. "Times are not what ie.v were," the old sport moaned, as he toss- t101 1 a piece of red faro check into the river 13 P id stroked his chin with a velvety hand. r?C( But I saw some pretty hard days in the c'v O's though and my present condition sort am carries me back to a particularly mem- 0W1 able day in 1863. It was on a Wednes- the ly in June of that year, if I remember retl 'ight, that I boarded a steamer at Mem- a.ctl lis. I had just enough money to pay my 3ig' issage to batches. But this fact didn't fav orry me any. There were plenty of suck- tan s in those days, and I was pretty cute in r'&( y line of business. The idea of not being ile to rake in a hundred or two on a trip in jver entered my head. We had gone bac iwn the river perhaps five miles when I tha lotted a young smooth-looking fellow deal- f?r< g faro out of hand. There were five Inaniatis in the game, and as I watched the the its I concluded that the layout was just ?eri 0 soft for anything; but, as I said be- Sot re, 1 didn't have a copper, and what at t adeit all the more discouraging, I had fori iwned all my jewelry in St. Louis sever- ted weeks hefore. the "I saw that the players were using ker- as ^ ils of corn for checks, and I had also seen, act< hile waiting for the boat to start at Mem- tur< lis that she carried a good sized cargo of the irn in the ear. Now here was an oppor- Sou inity. I moved away from the game, feel- ?9Ci ig as though there was but a few short Ne' eps between myself and opulence. Sneak- by g down on the boiler-deck, I found an t len hatchway, and, thrusting this big Pe.r ght hand into the boat's hold, fished up trie 1 ear of corn. I jammed the cob into my eo 1 tat pocket and crept upstairs like a thief, are lelling the corn as I went. It was not Sus ore than a minute more before I was look- ti_ai ig over the shoulders of the players. The gin line was getting interesting, and the men ha\ ere piling up the corn on the cards at a the eat rate. Now here was my time. I trit ooped up a handful of kernels and slap- a c ?d the seeds on the queen. The dealer yoi oked at the kernels a second, and, with- sid? it raising his head, said in a tone of voice ing i frostv that it chilled me to the bone, She ^.i.? nr.fi iiranger, ucu i nruii-inuci ui nu^ d checks.' I took in the situation at a Cor ance, and with a stage cough slunk away sha i the bow of the boat and cursed my luck. f?ro :hen that boat reached Natches, I sat on the le wharf two whole days watching them ant' lload that corn and I will eat this old hat unc there was another ear of red corn in the son hole cargo. Talk about hard luck, friend, niu lat was a little more agonizing than the . I ind I am plying in now." ligc . ^ . dul The Deliriums of Cocaine.?Cocaine, ie new amesthetic, which as a cure for hay- the ver and similar troubles promises to be- Wlt une a familiar antidote, carries with it c'ar, ,'ils as great as opium or alcohol when the rea ibit of its use becomes fixed. A Rochester Pea lysician describes its peculiar effects upon ( ie system that is addicted to it: the While a person in normal health is exhil- try ated by the use of the drug to such an "a* ctent that natural cowardice is supplanted P y the greatest daring, the slave to the '?1 rug, though previous to his enthrallment 00,1 ie of the bravest men, becomes the most Pro rant coward. He will not sleep, except sm: , long intervals, but never loses his appe- Por te, eating heartily as soon as the nausea iduced by the injection passes off. No *re lental faculties are clouded or dulled, but s^n >ving to extreme constipation the victim is ?' 1 prey to lethargy, and will not undertake wa< ly great labor or enterprise; becomes un- c<2t rlv in nerson. unclean in thought and inor- I a. ly depraved. Some have continued |VC< leir employment, but, on account of their "91 version to action, witli great diminution * "success. Opium, like other narcotics and "ie itoxicants used to excess, causes persons to |'ar icome absolutely indifferent to all rela- j|ie ons, duties and obligations; they even '',eK'orne brutal, but not nearly so brutal or "eJ jnraved as the cocaine slaves. *r? The victim does not sleep or care to, so J,,r ng as the drug affects him ; he will lie tur< vake, happy in the insomonia, seeing ,'erything about him, and yet exilerated diri i a wonderful degree. Hallucinations disj ime with night, not of the pleasant order tioi nially ascribed to opium, but ghastly and kin irrible phantoms to be chased away only is a / light. These imaginary beings creep in 1581 irough the cracks in the door and every get: her entrance conceivable to the diseased li lind. Such periods areas terrible as the enc iroxysms of delirium tremens. be 1 psceHatteims fjteadiug. Sh HISTORY OF TOBACCO. thi wl [From the Boston Globe.] hit n the first week of November, 1192, two lors were sent by Columbus to make a {?" ef exploration on the island of Cuba. A ey brought back to the ship the most ter irvelous and incredible report. "We its nd the natives," they said, "carrying th( hted firebrands with them and puffing J oke from their mouths and noses." mc rhe investigation which followed this n?-' traordinary statement disclosed the naa r\f fKo ^flrnKroniltj " Thpv u'ptp ninrlp th( the leaves of an unfamiliar herb, rolled a"( in the dried inner leaves of maize or ta( lian corn. It soon turned out, too, con- Paf ry to the theory which naturally occur- f,'1( 1 to the Europeans to account for this in? iinge custom, that it was neither a meth- ?u' of perfuming the person nor a part of a berous religious ceremony, but a practice ose sole excuse for being lay in the sim- su* satisfaction and pleasure of its perform- to. :e. v - pn n this matured and advanced stage of lir existence the cigar makes its first ap- to irance in history, and it is to be noted ! the changes which have been made in sp'1 during the nearly 400 years that have *ir ce elapsed have heen more in the details a'l ;he manufacture than in the nature of the tan icle itself. Pei Umost simultaneously with the discov- naa r of the cigar, the Spaniards were made thr are of another and still more eurious ins thod of extracting the virtues irom the uctive herb. The custom was first ob- I ved among the natives of the island of cer 1 Domingo. Upon the live embers of ex,vood fire they cast the leaves of the I acco plant. The long end of a hollow wa ie dividing into branches at the top, shap- ing like a letter Y with an extended stem, the s placed in the smoke. The fumes were i 4U??/MiniU +Ko liolrl in tKo c4-r\< ItllCU lliiuugii LII^; uiaiiLULO iiliu ill HIV/ OICI uth or nostrils. am iuch was the primitive pipe, still in use da? ong some South American tribes. ery 'he natives gave this novel instrument ant s name?tabaco. The Spaniards con- wil nding the name of the weed with that of fou i pipe through which it was smoked, of nsmitted the error to future generations, bac 1 we have continued to perpetuate it. age e Spaniards still preserve the original or i lling. The Italians add an extra C? thi acco. The poles call it tabaca. The kn< edes and Danes shorten it to tobak. The thr rmans, Dutch and Russians spell it tabak ovc 1 the French tabae. It is said that the hui tars made use of the three words ta ba bac to designate tobacco before the plant in 1 ne into use in England. There is an tw< story, so common that everybody is fa- cou iar with it, that "the word tobacco is ain DERIVED FROM TOBAGO, mil island of the Lesser Antilles, where the nt was discovered." This is told and mo ieved with confidence as if the island 1 borne this name through all time, and tae umbus had only to inquire to find out ma at it was. The fact as nearly as we can ide it, is that Columbus gave the island C1& 5 name because he fancied its outline yea e a resemblance to the Y pipe of the us ives of San Domingo. 'o the use of tobacco, which has become ar" general throughout the world, we are 'in( ebted to the uncivilized inhabitants Wf)1 the North American continent. By a ma cess of natural selection the inferior saij es vanished like smoke at the approach tut? he superior races, but they left with us ma i parting gift a memento which seems ?ly to last as long as any of our instituis. It is a curious fact, and one which robably not paralleled in history, that a e of savages should impress upon the ilized nations a practice originating ong themselves and exclusively their q. Evidently there was some void in i civilized heart waiting to be filled. It uired no long process of initiation or uirements. Tobacco was adopted at lit, and sprung into its place in popular or at a single bound. A custom so spon - i - -i - -..u.. -r it? eousiy accepted in spue ui me num jrous legislative attempts to suppress it, steady in its growth and so universal its ultimate extent, must indeed have 1 something stronger to recommend it n the mere spirit of imitation or the ,*e of novelty. tt the period of our first knowledge of it tobacco plant seems to have been spread lerally over the southern part of the ith American continent and the islands he mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. Acding to Humboldt it was largely cultivaby the ancient Mexicans as it was by native aborigines. It was found then, ,ve find it now, varying greatly in char?r according to the'climate and the nae of the soil in which it grew. It seemed n as it does now, particularly adapted to ithern parallels, but it is even at this day ^ asionally found as a weed as far north as f w York'S(ate, a relic of the cultivation toU the native red man. An 'nfortunately, future generations are not Alt mitted to record the name of the illus- jng >us discoverer of the virtues of the tobac- ^j0, ilant. For want of better evidence we obliged to accept the testimony of the *= quehatina Indians, who told the Chris- out 1 missionaries that it was of divine ori- pea ?a belief, by the way, which seems to mo e been pretty generally indulged in by 'p^n aborigines. "Some hunters of our >e," they said, "having killed and cooked leer, observed a figure like that of a mg woman, really a spirit, on the hill- stei 2, and thinking that she might be suffer- ten from hunger, olfered her some venison, the ; partook of it, was pleased with its flavor in(T I said : 'Your kindness shall be rewarded. ne here thirteen moons hence and you II find it.' We did so, and found maize er wing where her right hand had touched o'cl ground, where her left, kidney-beans, ble 1 where she sat we found tobacco." And qUj loubtedly this is just as authentic as j-n( le other "historical" data which are , ch more widely believed. . n this case, at any rate, we shall be obid to take things as they are, without in- Cle ging in our common weakness of trying gar iccount for them. It is certain only that j^e, savage was found by the white man ,)ra h the pipe in his mouth, and under his [jie e the culture of tobacco had already j chedan advanced stage. The first Euro-; prj n ship that touched the shores of Ameri- j pjs ;arried back with them the samples of curious herb that grew in the new coun- optl . We cannot, however, ascertain the gCju e of the introduction of tobacco into Eu- en{ e previous to 150(1, when Hernandez de j)Ur edo, a Spanish physician, who had been hjs ^missioned by Philip II. to examine the nec ductions of Mexico, brought to Spain a | e(j ill quantity of the leaves, of which a j j^g, tion found its way into the Portuguese ! rt. Forty years later, Jean Xicot, a i rt^t( 'nch embassador at the court of Portugal, on t the seeds from Lisbon to Paris, as those i ecj, i highly valuable medicinal plant which pas' i then known throughout Portugal. Ni- wj^ hasthe honor of having the genus named ! cep >r him, and is the why and wherefore of | pre atiana, nicotine and the several deriva-1 ^ail ! adji 'he first European cultivation of tobacco, j p refore, commenced in Portugal in the j ten ly part of the sixteenth century. I n 1572 j ces( culture began in France. A box full of i jje powdered leaves was sent to Catherine I ent Medici, and, owing to the fondness which I sj<rj developed for it, the plant was for a | tj01 e called "herbe de la reine." The cula rapidly spread to other parts of Europe. the IT WAS UHOUGHT TO ENGLAND ' and act from America, though there is some j Hu pute as to who brought it. The distinc- j to t l is sometimes accorded toSir John Haw- ma< s, in the year 1505. Sir Francis Drake feri lso an applicant for the honor in the year has ]. But Sir Walter ltaleigh generally tab s the credit for the performance. chu t does not make.any particular differ- Fifi e to anybody now, and posterity will not woi ikely to fight over the question. Shrewd wa. aple are beginning to .suspect that many I these interesting little personal anecdotes i bits of pleasant fiction and that history not always just. Everybody remembers 3 story of Sir Walter Raleigh's servant, 10, finding his master smoking, supposed ri to be on fire, and endeavored to extinish him with cold water. Regajdless of w much of these stories may be true or se, we do know that tobacco was introced into England by somebody in the lat part of the sixteenth century, and that use soon became as general there as on } continent. t would lie difficult to find anywhere a >re pertinent illustration of the powerless3s of legislation against a popular taste in in the early history of the extension of ) use of tobacco. Everywhere in Europe J in the young American colonies, when fir time came, the most severe laws were ?sed to check its progress. Venice was i first to place a tax upon tobacco, imposr it as early as I068. James I. forbade tivation, and ordered growing plants to , uprooted. The Czar of Russia announced it. pvprv one in his dominions, whether )jects or not, who smoked tobacco, was be punished with death, unless the cul- , tcould prove extenuating circumstances, which case the sentence might be reduced amputation of the nose. The Shah of rsia proclaimed to his army that if any dier should he seized in the act of smoig, he and his pipe and tobacco should be burned together. Amuret IV., Suli of Turkey, issued a mandate that every son convicted of smoking should be . rched, mounted backward, on an ass I ough the streets of the capital with the trument of his crime 1 STUCK THROUGH HIS NOSTRILS. ; n Italy, Popes Urban VIII. and Inno- i it XII. made it the subject of vehement i communication. < Sven in Switzerland a special tribunal * s created for the express purpose of bring- i ; to punishment delinquents who used 1 (forbidden weed. ! fet in spite of all this the use of tobacco < adily increased. It made its way surely i I irresistibly among the people, till to- < ? it is established in popular favor in ev- < r quarter of the globe. In this country, 1 in Europe, it is stating it very safely 1 thin bounds to say that three outof every ' r adults are smokers. A rough estimate < the average annual consumption of to- I :eo for the whole human race a few years 1 ) obtained a total of 1,000,000,000 pounds, 1 seventy ounces per head each year. In < s country alone in the year 1884, it is 1 )wn that there were consumed nearly < ee and a half thousand million cigars, < >r a thousand million cigarettes, and a I 3d red and seventy million pounds of to- * co, and the average yearly consumption 1 the United States has been computed at 1 mty-four pounds for every family in the s ntry. Within a few years Great Brit- 1 's consumption was reckoned at fifty 1 llion pounds yearly. I 'he difficulty in dealing with these enorus figures is that they are so large that < iple do not really comprehend them, and * y are so weak by reason of their very ; rrnUnrlD Tt iu norhana n innrp fnrnihlo I i te to say that the number of cigars and 1 irettes smoked in this country alone each 1 ir would, if placed end to end, would give 1 a rope of tobacco that would reach far ond the moon. With this for a standit is easy to see what a superlative long 1 the annual smoking material of the ] rid would make if treated in the same ] nner. At any rate enough has been j 1 to give a very just idea of the magni- ( e of our subject, and thus impressed we ] y proceed to examine it more in detail, i ( I CARDINAL McCLOSKY. it ten minutes of one o'clock A. M., Ocer 10th, 188;"), John McClosky, the first lerican Cardinal passed away in death, hough his Eminence had long been ail, his final illness was of but short dura1 and the sudden bereavement has cast ;loom over the community. Throughtheday of October 0th, the Cardinal apred but semi-concious, but there were ments when he would brighten up. 3 day was Friday and when the attendnuns offered him beef-tea he refused it; partook, however, of ordinary tea in its id. At five o'clock Dr. Kayes, the atding physician, arrived ; he found that extremities of the Cardinal were growcold. This was a sign of approaching solution. As the time passed the suffergrew steadily weaker and at eleven oek his breathing was scarcely pvrcepti. The house, which before was very et, now became painfully so, for all jw that the last moments of Jlis Excelcy were passing away. Around the bed3 were his nieces, Miss Mullen, Mrs. ary, and Mrs. Kelly, Archbishop Corrii, Vicar General Quinn, Mgr. Preston and v. l)r. McDonnell. In the afternoon the yer for the dying had been chanted in 1 chapel by the nuns. ( lis Eminence, John McClosky, Cardinal est of the lloly Roman Church, fifth hop and second Archbishop of New rk, was born in Rrooklyn X. Y., March ] (i,I810. He received his early classical i ication at New York and subsequently 1 ered Mount St. Mary's College, Emmetsg, Aid., and after graduating, pursued ( theological studies in the seminary con- r ted with the college. He was ordain- c priest in the St. Patrick's Cathedral, 1 a York, in January, lS.'M. Soon after r i he went to Rome, and for two years he f ;nded the lectures in the ltomun couege. c his return to New York he was appoint- r assistant pastor, and six months later c tor of the Church of St. Joseph, X. Y., c ich office he retained for six years, ex- t t one year (1841) during which he was c sident ofSt. Johns' College near Ford- p n, N. Y. In 1844 he was consecrated co- f utor of the Right Rev. John Ilughes, J), i then Bishop of New York, ami in Sep- r iber, 1847, on the creation of the new dio- ' i of Albany was installed as its bishop, c remained in charge of this diocese sev- n een years, administering its affairs with [ ml ability, establishing new congrega- a is, erecting a magnificent cathedral at c >any and many other new churches in i diocese, as well as hospitals, asylums r 1 schools. On the death of Archbishop s ghes, Bishop McCIoskey was transferred 4 he vacant see, May C?th, 1864. lie was c de Cardinal by Pius IV. Leo XIII con- t ed the Red Ilat upon him in 1878. He 1 been most zealous in establishing chari- a le institutions and has built many new c rches in the diocese. The Cathedral on r th Avenue, X. Y., one of the grandest c *ks of architecture on this continent, i also completed through his exertions. MOONSHINE WHISKY. The "wild cut" still is usually quite a primitive affair, consisting of a copper still of small capacity, the necessary worms, and one or two barrels or hogsheads in which is kept the mash. The still is usually owned and operated by one family, some male member of which is always sure to be found at the shed or cabin of brush and logs in which it is located. The corn from which the whisky is made is secured from the surrounding farmers, or raised by the owners, and the whisky sold to any one in the neighborhood who "is willing to pay fifty cents a gallon for it and keep mum. By reason of this, enabling them to secure a fair quality of whisky cheap, the moonshiner makes friends of all his neighbors, and as a rule they are ever ready to warn him of impending danger, and at the approach of an officer or even a suspicious looking stranger, all evidences of the still are quickly removed. This fact makes it an exceed inf ly difficult task to apprehend the violators of the law, and it is necessary to use the utmost caution and discretion in order to apprehend them at all. The chief source of revenue derived by West Tennessee moonshiners comes from the whisky they sell to storekeepers in small towns, in dealing with whom they adopt such precautions that while the storekeepers may have an idea, they never know precisely with whom they are trading. These moonshine stills are great resorts for the men who dwell in the vicinity of where they are located, and on Saturdays and Sundays and other idle days, do/.ens congregate around them, drinking, smoking and telling stories. While the West Tennessee moonshiner is fully as shiftless as his brother in the Tennessee mountains, about whom so much has been written, he is not near as bloodthirsty, probably because he has never been hunted so persistently, haying been allowed in a manner to pursue his business unmolested by meddlesome officials. Hence, while many a revenue officer has dropped from his horse lead at the crack of the mountaineer moonshiner's rifle, there is but one or two instances on record where officers have been killed in West Tennessee. Years ago when the revenue officers bunted the festive moonshiner in his lair, the method of entrapping them was to inluce some one familiar with the country, generally a man who had a grudge against the moonshiners, or some negro, who would, for a consideration, agree to pilot the officers to the still. Then a deputy marshal went to the town nearest the point he wished to reach, and summoning a posse, started out. In all of this it was necessary to preserve the utmost secrecy, as the moon.hiners invnriahlv have friends to warn them. Piloted by the guide, the officers would approach until they could see the smoke of the still curling above the tree tops, and then charge down. Sometimes they were successful in capturing the men, Dnt generally these managed to escape. Fhe officers always cut up the still, tear iown the shanty and pour out the mash ind whisky that happened to be on hand. A. raid on a moonshine distillery is always nteresting and exciting because fraught kVith so much danger, one never knowing when a rifle ball will tear its way through lis body.?Memphis Avalanche. THE LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE. The insufficiency of information in the Bible concerning the condition of the future ife formed the basis of a recent sermon by Liev. Henry Ward Beecher. There was no ?vidence, Mr. Beecher asserted, that the he oes in the Old Testament believed in imnortality. Only the poets of the Old Tesament touched upon immortality. The )ld Testament, he explained, treats of the secular benefits of life; the New Testament >f the spiritual benefits. Beyond proving, lowever, that another life is in store for the jeople of earth, the New Testament throws 10 light upon the lorms and relations with which the future life is to be endowed. Evjrything concerning the details of a future itate of existence is left entirely to the imigination. The New Testament through>ut gives a sense of the great brightness and leace and joy of the future life, but contains lothing but vague and unintelligible imiressions. After reading from the twenty-second ihaptcr of Matthew of the woman who had narried seven husbands, and who upon askng whose wife she would be in a future tate, was told that all would he like the mgels, neither marrying nor giving in marriage, Mr. Beecher said : "But what are the ingels ? We are nowhere given the means if knowing. Imagination is all that is left o us, and any man may create his own deal heaven, may be his own artist, and ,vith his own palette and brush paint his iwn heaven in as glowing colors as his fanjy can depict, always with the limitation if the spiritual knowledge that we have, hat love is eternal, and that what is purest tnd loftiest, the noblest aspirations, the lighest aims that man can conceive of, nust enter into its composition. The grand janorama laid before us in the Itevelations symbolize the war waged with sin and the uerfectness of the life hereafter. Our pow r J.; : : i__ : ar 01 perception issimpjv niipiesseu. tuning definite is given us." Mr. Beecher then spoke of asceticism as :aught in religion, showed how mistaken ind erroneous was the idea that joy was to je eliminated from thislifeand sorrow only :o have place in it. While people are to prepare for perfect joy in the future, yet it is their duty to partake in all the lawful oys that this earth can give. In conclusion ie said: "That dear old man that has gone up from among those who loved him leaves belli nd his Cardinal's throne, the purple of nis robes and his tiara. It was well enough that he should have them and the symbols if his authority, but the moment that he emerged into the other life he stood alone in (lis spiritual entirety, where his temple was liis Lord. When he lifts his venerable lead there he will be young, young in the presence of his Cod, and he will remain with those he loved and with those whom ie has consigned to destruction, for they will be there, too. I rejoice in his transnission as I do of all the saints. This is he testimony of a Protestant. Remember, *ou could not make a Catholic out of me my more than you could make an eagle, hained in a barn-yard, lay eggs." THE FORCE OF HABIT. We have never seen this story in print, [t is attributed to Col. A. S. Colyar, of Jenlessee, and is illustrative of the force of labit: A well-to-do old farmer, in one of the best ounties of Middle Tennessee, owned a large lumber of slaves, and among them one old larkey about his own age, and whom he lad known all his life. In fact he was one >f the "old family negroes," brought out rom Virginia, uia "oain" was a iauniui, lociIe creature, a great favorite with his naster, and a sort of privileged character >n the plantation. The old fellow was inlustriousand exemplary in his behavior all he year round, except during that period latingfrorn the time when roasting ears berin to ripen and the earliest appearance of rost. Satn was invariably seized at that jeriod with an invincible desire to run iway. It recurred as regularly as a tit of 'hay fever," was as incurable, and like that lisorder, could only be treated by change of lirand locality. Sam, understanding this, > referred to take his case in his own hands ind administer the treatment iu his own liscretion. Of course, in such a case, the isual punishment inflicted on "runaway liggers" was not to be thought of. ltemontrance was unavailing. Sam declared, 'He jes' couldn't he'p hisself," and it beame a settled and understood arrangement, hat he should go, and that the neighborlood should condone his raids on corn-fields tnd potato patches. After many such esapades, his old master asked him on one iccasion, when the matter was under dismssion: "Sam, do you really enjoy running away ?" "'Deed, Marso John," said Sam, "f does. I Hits tie moas' lun in tie wurr. coon nuntin' ain't nowhars to hit." "Well, then," said Marse John, "just let me know the next time you take a notion to start, and I'll go with you, and try it awhile myself." Sure enough, in due season Sam came up, saying: "Old Marse, de time's mighty ni^h when I 'bleeged to lite out. Ef you gwine wid me, you better be gittin' reddy, for when de time comes I got to go quick." "Old Marse" kept a bright look out, and when Sam started he was on hand. They had a delightful time. They fished occasionally, "caught 'possums, robbed orchards and watermelon and potato patches, nink-pd hlankherries for recreation, and daunted the greenest and shadiest nooks of the forest, all of which Sam knew well. "Old Marse" had never enjoyed a summer so much. In fact, he was so much pleased that regularly afterward he accompanied Sam when the latter went into annual retreat. At length Sam died. The old master grieved for him sincerely. He was sad also over the reflection that his summer Sastime would in future be denied him. iut, to the amazement of all his friends, and not less his own, when roasting-ear time came again, the fit seized him as strong as ever,and he ran away by himself. PLUCKY CHARLEY COMBES. One of the most darinj* feats during the recent rebellion in the Northwest was performed by a soldier in the ranks who went with the regulars from Toronto. At the risk of losing his life he performed an act which had an important bearing on the final defeat and rout of the rebels. At the commencement of the siege of Batoche the Xorthcote, passing down the Saskatchewan attracted the fire of the rebels from either bank of the river. She was able to keep up constant communication with the attacking column on land by blowing the steam whistle. This displayed to the General the position of the rebels and also showed that the boat had not been siezed. The vessel was under a heavy fire and the brave defenders had to seek refuge behind boxes of corned beef and bags of oatmeal piled on either side. Across the river was an elevated cable beneath which the vessel had to pass. It will be remembered that the rebels lowered one end of the cable to stop further progress. The boat, however, went on and the smoke stacks, flag staff, and steam whistle were broken off by the cable. Thus all communication with the column was stopped. As soon as the whistling ceased those on land attacking the rebel stronghold thought the boat had been seized. The importance of keeping up communication was recognized by all on board. Maj. Smith of C Company had a !m<h?!a/1 nan^amnn/ia titifK 4-V*rv on r?tn ? n rtf flio IIU111CU CUUlClClltC tYlbll HIV Lapiuiu ui tliv boat to ascertain what could be done, but a satisfactory conclusion could not be arrived at. The engineer was unwilling to risk his life in trying to repair the damage. M^j. Smith then called for a volunteer to go up and screw the whistle on. Private Charles Combes of C Company immediately offered to undertake the hazardous job. In order to fix the whistle on again it was necessary to stand on top of the wheelhouse and screw it to the pipe. The chances of being shot were very great, as the rebels were keeping up a continual fire. The ship's carpenter cut a hole through the upper deck to the wheelhouse. Private Combes got into the wheelhouse through the hole and from thence he climbed through the window to the top of the structure. The bullets were flying fast and it was momentarily expected that he would be shot. He reached the top in safety and began screwing on the whistle to the pipe five feet above the roof. He was completely exposed to the fire of the rebels. Fortune seemed to favor him, for though the bullets were directed at him they did not strike the mark. The pipe to which Combes was screwing the whistle was struck twice,*and the board on which he was standing was pierced by balls, within two inches of his feet. At last, however, the job was done, and amid the applause of all on board he descended the same way as he had gone up. The whistle worked all right and communication was once more restored with the column. Private Combes was congratulated by the officers for his bravery. Captain Bedson, chief of the Transport Company, was warm in his congratulations and promised the young hero $50 as a reward for his brave conduct. When the company arrived at Battleford Col. Otter ordered a parade of troops. He called upon Private Combes to fall out, presenting him with the check promised by Capt. Bedson, said he was very proud of the brave action, and spoke highly ot the service rendered. Private Combes is 16 years of age and of English birth. He has lived in Toronto for the past few years. His father is an old member of the Toronto police force. Some Superstitions.?At Smithill's hall, near Bolton-le-Moors, there is still to he seen?an object of interest and curiosity to a large number of visitors?the print or a man's foot in the flagstone. It is said to have been produced by George Marsh, who suffered martyrdom during the persecutions of Queen Mary in 1555. When on one occasion the truth of his words was called in question by his enemies he stamped his foot upon the stone on which he stood, which ever afterward bore the ineffaceable impression as a miraculous testimony to his veracity. This story must have been an afterthought to account for what we may suppose to have been a prehistoric Tanist stone. In connection with this modern legend another of a somewhat different character may be related. A good many years ago at the back of the British museum there was a piece of waste ground called Southampton fields, noted as a resort for low characters. There was a tradition connected with it that two brothers in the Monmouth rebellion took opposite sides and engaged each other in fight. Both were killed, and forty impressions of their feet were traceable in the field for years afterward. The field has long been built over, and the precise locality can not now be pointed out. But Southey went to see the curious sight, and has given a graphic description of it in the second series of his "Commonplace | Book." The impressions were about three j inches deep in the hard soil; no gra^s ever i grew in the terrible hollows, and noeultiva tion of the soil could obliterate them, for when the ground was plowed they persisted in reappearing. Southey mentions that he saw no reason to doubt the truth of the story, since it had been confirmed by these tokens for more than a hundred years successively. It is probably a fact with a circumstance, to say the least, extremely doubtful. Upon the legend, which was known far and wide, Jane and Anna Maria Porter based one of the popular romances, called "The Field of the Forty Footsteps and the Messrs. Mayhew took the same subject for a melodrama?Blackwood's Magazine. Shy Children.?We ought to be tender - - - - ? i rni J ?_ with naturally shy cnnaren. ine aguuies these little people have to go through they alone can understand. But those of us who have passed through the same ordeal can remember what we suffered in our day of small beginnings and unused experiences, and by ourselves we can judge for them. To be told to go and speak to a stranger?to be taken between his knees and kissed by a big dark man with a scrubby beard and a red nose?to be asked, when older, to repeat that bit of poetry which it is as much as the poor stammerer can do to say to his governess in camera?to be made to play that sonata before a proficient?to be sent down to dinner with a spectacled stranger who has a reputation?to be taken out to drive with a formidable old aunt who asks questions and finds faults?to be, in fact, initiated from childhood upwards in any of the necessary procedures of life?is to be simply tortured. We should not force a weakly child to take the exercise only natural to a healthy, strong and powerful one ; nor should we force a shy child to moral exertion over severe for its constitution.