University of South Carolina Libraries
'"V T ' ' ' * "'v'> ' Mff . y?. imhi y i mj? 11 i Ml IMMIIIIIIII ?!? I MM! MUTI?I Hill III W1MBII ?!! MM T?W?TTTTT~TITTrHn ? ' ! ? III 1 lewis m. grist, proprietor. t % fnbcpenbenf Jfamilg ^ttfospapfr: jfor % ^promotion of % political, Social, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of % soa% |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. VOL 32. YOEKVILLE, S C., THTJRSDAY, MARCH 25, 1886. NO. 12. j&Uftd fottrg. LOVE THAT LIVES. ? ? BY OEOKOE PARSONS I.ATHROP. Dear face, bright, glinting hairDear life, whose'heart is mine? The thought of you is prayer, The love of you divine." In starlight, or in rain ; In the sunset's shrouded glow ; Ever, with joy or pain, To you my quick thoughts go Like winds or clouds, that fleet r Across the hungry space J Between, and find j'ou, sweet, Where life again wins grace. Now, as in that once young Year that so softly drew My heart to where it clung, 1 long for, gladden in you. And when in the silent hours I whisper your sacred name. Like an altar-fire it showers My blood with fragrant fianie. Perished in all that grieves; And lo, our old new joys Are gathered as in sheaves, Held in love's equipoise. Ours is the love that lives; Its spring-time blossoms blow 'Mid the fruit that autumn gives, And its life outlasts the snow. ?Century. JU (Ngiual Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. AMOS BAMON. ItY L. I>. OZMOND. CHAPTER IV. It was near the hour of twelve, on a dark, cloudy November night. The wind, which had blown stormily all through the day and afternoon, had partially subsided, but still swept in fitfiul gusts through the almost deserted streets of the city of San Francisco. A pale moon, struggling with the great masses of cloud that swept against her like giant battalions threatening to overwhelm her, now yielded to their adverse force, now penetrated their gloom with a feeble, transitory ray of light. By one of these fitful gleams might have been discerned a small cart, drawn by a powerful horse, and oc- J cupied by three figures enveloped in loose cloaks, proceeding along one of the least frequented of the thoroughfares which lead to the spot known as Lone Mountain, around which are grouped the various cemQfarioc u'horp thf? citv hurios its dead. The occupants ot the cart were men, two of them quite young, their companion of more advanced age. They talked little as they drove along; either the nature of the hour and the atmosphere, or that of the errand on which they were bound, seeming to have a depressing influence on their spirits. "I .half wish I was out of this," remarked one of the two younger in a subdued tone, as they neared the entrance of Laurel Hill - cemetery. The oldest of the three laughed. "Growing nervous, Baker?" he asked, lightly flicking the horse with his whip. "I confess that I am, though I suppose the admission will drawdown your ridicule upon me." "No," rejoined the other, "I don't consider you a subject for ridicule. Being a novice, it is quite natural that you should feel a little queer. I used to do so myself when I was young and inexperienced." "You are tolerably hardened now, I guess," remarked the third of the party. "Well, yes; it would be surprising if I wasn't. This is about the hundreth time, or the hundred and fiftieth, maybe, that I have come on this sort of expedition. I regard it now merely as a pleasure jaunt." The young man addressed as Baker shuddered slightly, and drew his cloak more closely about him. Nothing more was | said until they reached the gate; here the cart stopped, and the party alighted. The older man, whose name was I)rumraond, applied a peculiar-looking whistle to his lips, and blew a low but distinct note; this he repeated twice. There was a moment's silence, then the signal was answered by a corresponding whistle. "It's all right," remarked Drummond, as he tied the horse toa hitching post. "Come along, boys. Baker, keep close to me. Jack, you go around by the other road and meet us. Be careful, now. Where is your lantern ?" "Here," replied Jack. "Have you got yours ??Yes, I see. Now the other things; here, I'll carry these." "We'll divide. You are sure you know the place?" "Certain." Moving quickly but cautiously forward, in the shadow of the waving trees that bordered the road on the left-hand, young I Baker, keeping near hiscompanion's elbow, I soon found himself in the midst of the city of the dead. Drummond left the main road and struck into one of the numerous small paths lying completely in the shade, and so overgrown by tangled vines and weeds that it was difficult to make their way through it. "How neglected this part of the ground seems," murmured Baker,"as his foot stumbled against a loose stone. "Yes, just here it is. I don't want to go too near the open places yet. We'll skirt around a bit and then strike across the country. Confound that branch! Look out for your eyes, man. Are you shaky still?" "Never mind," was the rather impatient reply. "I've undertaken the job, and I'll | see it through. Have we much farther to go ?" "Yes, it's a good way beyond here. Cold, >, isn't it? The wind is always sharp about k:o T-Tnvp von pvpr boon out here lIUO - V J . in the day time?" "Once." "Pretty place, rather. Some expensive monuments. Don't admire many of them myself, however. The L? monument is quite tine. Figure of Hope in a columned temple, sphynxes guarding the entrance, grounds tastefully kept. Seen it?" "Not that I remember." "It's too dark to show itto you now. Besides, our business requires despatch. Here, turn to your right,-now we come to smooth walking. Don't crunch the gravel more r- than you can help. Hallo, there's Jack." "Here we are, General," said Jack, advancing. "I saw Toby down below, the cart'll be along directly. How are you feeling now, Mr. Baker?" "Mr. Baker doesn't want any more investigations made in regard to his condition," said Drummond, with a grin. "He's all right." The remainder of their walk was short. A few minutes brought them to a freshly made grave in an uncultivated spot of ground. They halted, and Drummond and Jack squatted on the edge of a Hat tombstone, waiting for the arrival of some expected aid. Baker walked up and down, shivering. "Give him some spirits," whispered Jack. "He's awfully scared already, feels worse than if he was in a dentist's chair. Suppose he was to faint?" "Bother," was Drummond's answer ; but he produced, nevertheless, from his pocket a small flask, and politely offered some of its contents to the novice of the party, who, however, declined the offer with thanks. "Here's the cart," said Jack, gaily jumping up. "Now we're all right. Come along, Toby." The individual thus addressed, forming a fourth member of the group, was an oddlooking little man in a battered hat and a very seedy suit of clothes, which seemed all too thin to protect him from the cold. Stepping from the cart, on which he had occupied the driver's place in bringing it up fwsvwi f Kn fn u?Knm if hoon ldff. ho 11U11I Uig g(lbU) *? 11V/1 t IV IIUV4 V/VV4I ?V*V) ? %/ handed Drummond and Jack each a spade, reserving one for himself, with which he silently and skilfully fell to work upon the grave, whose recesses it was the object of the party to explore. The other two joining in the task, it proceeded rapidly, and soon a large pile of fresh earth lay heaped outside the grave. Baker in the mean time stood looking on, without offering to assist; and as a dull, hollow sound proclaimed that one of the spades had struck the coffin he shuddered visibly, and withdrew a step or two farther. A few minutes longer of energetic work, and the remaining earth was shoveled away from the surface of the coffin ; cords were now brought into requisition to raise it to the surface, and this accomplished, they proceeded to remove the lid. Toby was appointed to this task, or rather seemed to apply himself to it as a matter of course, and while he was engaged in turningthe screws, his companions sat down to rest and refresh themseves by a taste of Drummond's little flask. Jack took out his watch and consulted it by the light of me laniern. "We've been here longer than I thought," he remarked. "It's time we were starting for home." "No hurry," coolly answered his senior. "Everything's safe enough. It doesn't matter if we're not back before daylight." "No, but it's deucedly cold out here. By the by, Baker, how are you feeling now?" "All right," gloomily answered Baker. , "Have a drop of brandy?" "No, thanks; I never touch spirits." "Talking about spirits," said Jack, "I wonder what the ghosts of these fellows hereabouts thing of such a proceeding as this? Don't they regard it as a pretty cheeky thing, I wonder? Burglary and abduction in one, and they not able to defend themselves. It does seem rather unfair. "I don't see that it concerns the ghosts much," rejoined Drummond. "They are i not supposed to inhabit the graves." No, but they must still retain a kindly interest in their earthy frames, even after they have vacated them, I should think. Here's this fellow now; having been peacefully planted and covered up, his ghost thinks or rather thought, that he would be let alone in quiet and comfort for a number of years at least?hundreds or thousands, perhaps?and goes off at his ease to enjoy himself among i the other disembodied spirits, and explore i new countries; he comes back occasionally to see how things are getting along at home, and to his disgust he can't find his old tenement anywhere. Don't you suppose he'll feel aggrieved ?" "Don't matter much how he reels, replied Drummond. At any rate it doesn't concern me." i "Tell you what, old fellow, continued the other, "it's prettty sure to concern you one of these days, for I'll be hanged if retributive justice don't'stir you up out of your last resting-place for the benefit of science. You needn't expect anything else. IIow will you like that?" "When that time arrives, Jack, I fancy I shall be tolerably indifferent on the subject. Science is quite welcome to benefit by my remains. I don't care a rush what becomes of them. In fact " Here a startling exclamation interrupted him. Toby had just lifted off the coffin-lid, and was staring before him with blank astonishment depicted on his interesting countenance. "What's up, Toby?" asked Drummond. "Jle\s\" up," replied Toby, scratching his head, from which he had removed his bat, tered hat. "At least, he ain't down. Coffin's empty?all but these." He took out a heavy stone or two, embedded in straw, and threw them aside. Drummond started forward with an oath. "You don't mean that somebody's been ahead of us!" he exclaimed. "Looks like it, boss. Anyways, you can see for yourself there's no corpse here." "Weil," said Jack, "if that isn't a sell!" "A nice thing to come out here on a freezing night after a dead man and find him i gone," growled J)rummond. "But who ] the mischief could have carried him off? i It must have been pretty quick work?I j don't see how they could have got through lit in such a hurry!?See here, Jack," he I continued, turning rather fiercely to the last named individual, "this isn't any coni founded joke of yours, is it ?" "Of mine? Why, General, you surprise me. Ain't I as much interested in this business as you are?" "Well, I should judge so; but nobody ever can tell what you feather-brained youngsters are after. Well, what's to be done about it?" "Put the coffin back, of course," said j Toby, who was much disgusted at the unexpected turn of affairs. "No use standing | here and looking at the darned thing." ! He kicked the unoffending but aggravating i piece of furniture as he spoke, by way of | venting his spleen. "Well," said Drummond, drawing a long breath," no such trick as this has ever been played on me before. If I could find out who's done it?" "But how do you know it in u trick?" I - * - . I asKeu mKer. "."suppose me man was iievci i ; buried here at all ?" "That's a new idea," said Drummond, j after moment's reflection. "Though why on earth he shouldn't have been, I can't for I the life of me, guess. Jle was a respectable j party, wasn't he?" "How should I know? I am an entire ! stranger to the facts of the case. I thought you knew all about him." "Not a thing about him, sir, except that I his death was sudden and peculiar, and that ! the autopsy was a most idiotic affair, a per feet farce. Such men as G. C. ought to be put out of office for driveling incompetency. ; But this joke of not burying a dead man i when it is expected of them to do so, is a j mighty poor one, in my opinion. Goahead, i Toby, we may as well get through." The coffin was again covered and re-Iowi ered, the grave filled in, and all signs of its I recent disturbance carefully obliterated, j The implements were restored to the cart, I of which Toby took temporary charge as \ I before, and the party retraced their way by j separate paths to the gate. By the time i they mounted their conveyance and started ! for home, the gray glimmer of dawn began to show in the east. "Your first experience hasn't been exact-j actly what you expected," remarked Jack j to Baker, whose countenance wore an ex-! pression of decided relief. "No; but it has been a curious one," was j the reply. "I don't think I'll ever meddle j with the resurrection business again. This glimpse of it satisfies me." Jack laughed. Drummond was in too bad a humor to notice either of them. He was, in fact, dreadfully disappointed ; but added to this disappointment was a disagreeable sense of mystery which especially \ aggravated him. What had become of the | dead man ? Had his burial really been pre- j vented, and if so, what was the reason, and why had there been the pretense of a funer-1 nl'? It was nrovokiner that he could not j openly take steps to clear up the matter; but he had reasons for keeping quiet about it, as he did not wish to be implicated in regard to the midnight expedition. Baker's curiosity had also been strongly j aroused, and to satisfy both himself and the | others he agreed to use every effort to pene- j trate the mystery upon which they had i stumbled. These efforts would perhaps have met I with small success, had not an unexpected ! solution of the problem been voluntarily j offered him. But as this was not the case ' until some time later, and as, for prudential j reasons, he did not betray his knowledge of j the secret to those who were most anxious : to discover it, we shall, for the present, re- j frain from any explanation. Suffice it to I say that Drummond had enemies, and that it was owing to the adroit daring of these | enemies that he had been frustrated in his j plans, and an empty coffin had been carried ! to Lone Mountain, on the particular occa-' sion to which this history refers. About a month afterwards, the ground surrounding the violated grave was enclosed, to the space of a few feet, by a neat iron railing, a gardener went to work, dug and weeded and planted, and flowers and turf soon appeared where barren earth and brambles had been before. This work had just been completed, and the gardener, leaning on his spade, was contemplating the result with satisfaction, when a stranger rambling through the cemetery stopped to look also. "New place?" he asked. "New place, sir. Just put in order. Here's my card?" "Thanks, but I'm only a visitor, and not; likely to need your services." "Ah!?well, sir, we never know what may happen," said the gardner reflectively. "This party here was a stranger too; just a sojourner, as one may say; and died quite unexpected, away from home. His widow sent on orders to have everything arranged in the best of style. Unfortunately there was a mistake about the stone, which ought to have been set up before the ground was laid out; however, it doesn't matter much; the stonecutter's a careful man. After it's set up, I shall put in another rose, a Madame Plantier; pure white, suitable for graves; just here, you see. Know the variety,sir?" The stranger answered in the negative, and walked on. That same day the stonecutter brought the stone. It was a pretty one, of variegated marble, in the form of a cross; and being put it) place, added greatly to the neat appearance of the spot. For the gratification of the curious, I will here reproduce the inscription : i. TO T1IK MK.MOUY OK : AMOS BARTON j : A NATIVK OF KALKIOH, NORTH CAROLINA, WHO DIKD SUDDENLY ; | IN THIS CITY, : NOVEMRKH ]()TII, 1870, AOKl) 37 YEAIIS. : REQUIESCAT IN FACE. : [TO BE CONTINUED.] FOUR NOTED REVIVALISTS. The names of Moody and Sankey are familiar wherever the English language is spoken, and perhaps no persons in the United States occupy a more conspicuous place in the religious world than the four whose portraits are here presented. Moody and Sankey have been prominent before the country as evangelists for more than twenty years, their labors when not in Europe having been in the Northern and Western States, until recently when they visited the Southwest, in which section they have been laboring for some time past with great success; and the fact that j they are now in South Carolina, conducting ' a series of meetings in Charleston, from j which city they will proceed to Columbia, j contributes additional interest to their I Southern visit. According to the arrangments made in advance, they were to have j arrived in Charleston on yesterday, on ; which day revival services were commenced, and are to be held twice daily to and includingSaturday, and on Sunday two i additional services will be held?one at11 ] A. M. for the colored people, and another at j 3.30 P. M., for women only. All the services j are conducted at Agricultural Hall, and | are designed for the unconverted. In their ! labors in Charleston the evangelists have j the earnest co-operation of the pastors of j the various denominations of the city, and atmvtr (iviilnni'/i thnt fhf?V will HP- i tllCIC JO CVVJJ \y*IUVIIVV V ?..VJ ..... ..w | complish much good. But while Moody and Sankcy have long been prominent in the North, there has also sprung up in the South one whose aggres-: siveness in combatting the wiles of Satan: has made him no iess conspicuous before j the country than his two worthy co-laborers; I while the vein of originality?often more j homely than elegant?characterizing many ! of his thrusts at ungodliness, has given to | his pulpit utterances a wide dissemination j by both the religious and secular press. ! For several months past Mr. Jones has been ! neeietiwl in lliu n V!lll trf'l if'n I VVnplv llV I JH/.Jr ; Samuel W. Small, of Atlanta, who was j converted through his instrumentality dur-, ing a revival service in Georgia. In view of the prominence of these evangelists, j now actively engaged in their work, a j brief sketch of each will be of public in-1 terest. mVIGIIT J,. MOODY. Thequotation from Shakspeare, "The evil J that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones,1' should be : exactly reversed in the case of Dwight L. j Moody. It is doubtful whether any other evangelist can boast of such a varied expe-' rience as Mr. Moody can, and to mention,! even in the most sketchy manner, all the | incidents of his remarable career, would require far more space than is allotted to the average newspaper article, lie was born February 5th, 18.37, in Northfield, Mass. j At the age of seventeen he went to Boston, and there worked as a salesman for his uncle, Mr. Samuel ITolton. In 1856 he went' SAM JONKS. s X1 U J west, full of ambition and a desire to make his fortune. lie obtained employment in Chicago. He joined the Plymouth Congregational Church and soon became known for his success in bringing in new members. In Chicago he started his first mission in a deserted liquor saloon. To this place the worst characters of the city were invited and the success of the scheme was without precedent. In 1858 he joined the Young Men's Christian Association of Chicago. He worked diligently for his cause, in the slums of Chicago and soon gave up his position as salesman, to devote his .whole time as a missionary. In 1SG3 Mr. Moody was installed in his new church in Illinois street, Chicago. He became the apostle of the Young Men's Christian Association, and conducted a series of revival meetings in the principal cities of the country. In 18G2 he first became acquainted with Ira David Sankey, and their co-operation yielded most beneficent results. In 1872 Messrs. Moody j and Sankey sailed for England, and there, as well as in Ireland and Scotland, conducted revival exercises which were unprecedented in the number of visitors. Nothing like it had been heard of before ; the people became fairly wild to see and hear the great evangelists. It has been said that in London alone they converted ten thousand souls. This is, indeed, a showing of which they can be proud. I HA I). SANICEY Was born at Edinburgh, Lawrence county,! Pennsylvania, August 28th, 1810. He en-1 gaged in business in New Castle, of that! State, continuing therefrom 1855 till 1871.1 When the Young Men's Christian Associ- j ation established a branch at New Castle, j Mr. Sankey entered zealously in the work j and was chosen President. In June IS7U, he went to Indianapolis as a delegate to an International Convention, and there first met Mr. Moody. At a revival meeting Mr. Sankey led the singing and his beautiful voice electrified the audience, as it has countless numbers since. Prom that time the history of Messrs. Moody and Sankey, as far as religious work is concerned, is almost identical, although for brief intervals they have operated separately. After the stirring revivals in all the prominent American cities, where as many persons were turned away as could be accommodated, Europe was visited and meetings that taxed the capacities of the largest halls of England and Scotland were held. So great was the inilux that open air meetings were held. In Ireland, too, they met with un precedented success. 111 Eonuon, mat plague spot of the world, whose poor John Ruskin says, are lower than the South Sea Island savages, a series of revials were held that astonished the denizens. Returning to America they renewed their efforts and the number of their convert doubtless is greater than that of any other revivalists. Of late years they have operated mostly in the Western States. REV. "SAM" JONES. The Rev. Samuel P. Jones was born in Cartersville, Georgia, in 1849. J lis father was a lawyer, but several of his ancestors were connected with the ministry. Sam's early life was marked by a restlessness and recklessness that threatened nothing but evil, but the death of his father led to the conversion of the young man. Such a scene , as was witnessed in that chamber of death is not often beheld. The hour was tragic; falling on the lloor the prodigal son cried . out, "I'll quit, I'll quit, God be merciful to j me a sinner." The great change came by the renewing power of the Iloly Spirit, j The young convert soon had a desire to ; preach, and in 1872 was admitted to the j North Georgia Conference, but it was not until 187G, in Floyd county, Georgia, that he emerged from obscurity. For over ten years he labored in the various churches of his native State, but in 1881, went to Alabama. lie, in turn, visited Florida, Missis- j sippi, Kentucky, Texas, Tennessee, South j Carolina, New York, Ohio, etc., etc. His audiences ran into the thousands, and in Nashville, Tennessee, he was so successful j that crowds were turned away nightly. A ! fluent writer thus eulogizes him : "In ap- j proaching a platform on which Sam. Jones stands, surrounded by thousands of upturned : faces, what arrests attention is his utter freedom from clericalism in any of his characteristics. His attitude, his tones of voice, IAVICHT I.. MOODY. I HA I>. SANK BY. El NOTED REVIVAL his forms of expression have .all the naturalness and greatness of a Kentucky or Tennessee popular stump speaker. The feeling produced in the hearer is mixed. You approve of the naturalness, but find yourself putting in an interrogation point before the abandon in manner and expression. It is hard to rid one's self of the conviction that reverence is absent or there would be greater constraint in manner. While you are yet turning this question over he bursts upon you with a witticism, a slang phrase, or reckless abuse, such as offends most deeply and makes you wish yourself out of the audience. Your politeness holds you until his words of application come, fierce with earnestness or running over with sympathy." SAMUEL WHITE SMALL. While the name of Sam Jones is on every lip, the name of his able assistant is not so well known, but lie has made himself a factor in the work in which Jones is engaged, and hereafter we will hear of Jones and Small as we hear of Moody and Sankey. Moreover, Small is a convert of Jones, making their collaboration still more interesting than it would ordinarily be. Samuel W. Small was born July 3rd, 1851, at Knoxville, Tennessee, and received his primary education in that city, but graduated from the High School, New Orleans. To finish his education he was sent to Emorv and Henry College, in Virginia, and graduated with high rank. Sam's father was a journalist, and in addition to this was rich and influential. lie was Superintendent of the Southern Express Company and President of the Texas Express Company. The wealth of his father proved Sam's bane. He was led into all kinds of excesses and spent money faster than his father could make it. The young man started out in life as a lawyer and next became a journalist. He was of a roving dispositon and never stayed long in one place,'although his ability was very marked. Taking up stenography he j became an expert at it. He has lived in j most of our large cities and spent some | years in Europe, where his father's wealth j opened to him all avenues of enjoyment j and dissipation. Under the nom de plume ' of "Old Si," he won a reputation among literary men and became an acknowledged master of negro dialect humor. Under his old pseudonym he is still writing for the Atlanta Constitution. Physically he is a nonentity, or at least he seems to be, but it is said of him that he can do more work than those who seem in every way his superiors. He not infrequently worksall night and this without apparent injury to his delicate candition. As Sam Jones says, he is a physical phenomenon. As an orator he has few equals and his speech on the floor of I ho f'hnmhpr of rmrimproe of Cincinnati i isf spoken o as a model. lie has a wife and four children. Power or Mormon ism.?The Lutheran Observer gives the following extract from a private letter on the situation in Utah from Charles S. Varian, Esq., who has figured prominently in the recent trials of polygamists at Salt Lake City, as assistant United States Attorney. It will be read with interest: "The situation here is a strange one, and the responsibility of a government oflicer is very great. We are surrounded by an 1 alien people. The great mass of Mormons is recruited from the peasant classes of Continental Europe and England. Honest j but ignorant and fanatical, the proselite tothe faith is conveyed to Utah and placed in possession of a small holding of land. At once lie finds himself in a position of cnunun-rt/in' sifHuonce. The land he holds vv"7'"' comes to him by conveyance from John j Taylor, the head of the church, who he is taught to believe is the supreme authority. | Thus he is bound by a two-fold tie. First, i he believes and therefore acknowledges) the Mormon priesthood as the representa- j tivesof the Almighty. Second he is grate-, ful to the power which he supposes has con- j ferred temporal blessings exceeding those i of his wildest anticipations. The people know nothing of American institutions, and have 110 appreciation of their duties as citizens of the Republic. Our flag to them is but a symbol of tyranny, and its stars have no significance. So far as patriotism is concerned, if does not exist. It cannot he awakened for it does not sleep. No appeals 1 SAM SMALL. ^ I. ISTS. | will reach them, because there is nothing to appeal to. By and by the American people will realize the danger, and in some heroic way solve the problem. They do not understand it now. Their wisest and best men seem to have little idea of the necessites of the hour. Rome, in the days of her greatest power, never held such a despotic sway as does the Presidency of this church. The lives, liberties and property of all Mormons are at the absolute disposal of the head of the church." VERY ROMANTIC INDEED. "I had a strange experience once in human hair," said a member of a firm of human hair importers to a reporter for the Philadelphia Times. "A French lady of noble blood, who had been my friend for years, wrote me a few months ago, inclosing a lock of hair which was a peculiar shade of drab and of silky fineness. She wanted me to match it, and I set about doing so. I dispatched my agents all over Europe, but nowhere could they find a thread of hair that would match thesample. "I then inserted an advertisement in the principal Philadelphia, New York and Boston papers, offering a liberal reward for a switch of the desired quality and color. One day a woman about twenty years of age, shabbily dressed, but with a form and face that Venus might have envied, entered my office. " 'I came in answer to your advertisement,' she said, and removing her hat, unbound a luxuriant coil of hair that called from me an involuntary cry of admiration. 'Will this do?' she asked. "I examined her hair and compared it with the sample sent me by the countess. The two were so similar that when I mixed them together I could not distinguish one from the other. " 'Thia ho ir is Ovrtf'tlv Avllflt. T Wfint." 1 said, 'and I will give you $200 an ounce for it." 44 4Take it off,' said she, with a nervous trembling of her voice that at once attracted my attention. 4I am starving, I and my baby, and what you are willing to pay is a fortune to me.' 4,I became interested and questioned her. After a little hesitation she told me her story. Her husband had been a sea captain, and shortly after they were married, had sailed for the west coast of Africa. His vessel was never heard of after leaving port, aud it was presumed she had foundered at sea and all hands had been lost. The presumed widow had struggled to mantain herself and infant child, but with indifferent success. Finally, when suffering from the pangs of hunger, she had read my advertisment and hastened to my place of business, praying inwardly that her hair, which had been her husband's pride, might be the required shade. "Well, to make a long story short, I bought her hair, which weighed four ounces, and paid her $800 for it. I sent the switch td my customer, the countess, and wrote her the history of the hair. She is a woman of great wealth and goodness of heart. The return mail brought me a letter authorizing me to pay the poor little sailor's widow $1,000 extra. I did so and wrote an account of the affair to our official journal, which is published in New York. The story was so romantic that the daily papers copied it and I received several letters from charitable people offering pecuniary assistance to the sailor's widow. She was proud and refused to receive any help. 440ne day, about three weeks after the publication of the story, a man who was bronzed and bearded came into my office very much excited, lie held in his hand a copy of a New York paper and upholding it, pointed to my story. "Can you give me the address of this woman ?" he asked, eagerly. "She is my wife; I thought her dead." "While I wrote down the address he told me his story. His vessel had been wrecked on the African coast, and he and two others of the crew alone reached the shore. It was several months before they managed to reach a civilized port. He immediately sent word of the disaster to the owners of the foundered vessel and wrote to his young wife. From the former he received a reply, but he heard no word from his wife, and when he reached Philadelphia discovered that she had mysteriously disappeared. One day in looking over a paper he came across my story and hurried to my office to learn fuller particulars. I sent him to his wife in my carriage, and you can imagine what occurred at the meeting, for each believed the other dead. I wrote to the countess, giving the sequel to the story, and the result was that the shipwrecked captain now commands her yacht, and the wife who sacrificed her hair to buy bread sails with him on every voyage." A SLAUGHTER PEN. ["F. 1). M." in Cin. Commercial Gazette.] At half-Dast 3 the fuse was liehted. Upon the Federal side men grasped their muskets nervously, they held their breath in awful suspense, and could hear their hearts beat in the black stillness. The Confederates slumbered on peacefully in the doomed fort, the men on their picket line in the perfect quiet almost forgetting to peep occasionally through the eye-holes in the breast-works looking toward the Yankee works, 300 feet away. And all this time the little hissing, sputtering flame of the fuse was runuing along through the dark gallery, nearer and nearer to the 320 kegs of powder stored thirty feet beneath them. There was the first faint streak of gray upon the eastern sky as the mine exploded. Those waiting felt a strange thrill run through the earth, and then, said one, "It seemed as though the earth had exploded." The ground rocked under the tremendous recoil, as a jolid mass of earth rose slowly 200 feet in the air, the exploding gunpowder blazing through it like "lightning playing through a bank of clouds," seemed to hang poised an instant, and then with a vast roaring sound in showers of stones, broken timbers, cannon, blackened human limbs or bodies, it fell, and a heavy cloud of black smoke floated off. The dreadful work had been thoroughly done. Where the Elliott salient had stood there was now a horrible chasm 150 feet long, sixty feet wide and from twenty-five to thirty feet deep, and its brave garrison lay buried beneath the jagged blocks of blackened clay?in all 256 officersandmenof the Eighteenth and Twenty-Second South Carolina, and twenty-two men of Pegram's battery. Instantly the Union batteries opened with every gun from Appomattox creek to Jerusalem plank road, from Fort McGilvery to Fort Davis, in horrid uproar. The air was alive with howling shot and screaming shells, and the valley shrouded in billowy ; smoke. The troops pressed forward into [ the crater and over the lines of the enemy, stunned and demoralized, and the day of carnage began. Hundreds of people have tried to tell the story of the Battle of the Crater, which began with the explosion at 4 in the morning and ended with the recapture by the Confederates about 1 or 2 o'clock in the afternoon. The story can not be told. Xo language can adequately describe it. It can not be painted, for no colors are deep enough. The story from the Federal side is not a proud one. Grant called it a "miserable affair," and summed it up as a disgraceful affair to the Union army, and cost the lives of nearly o,000 men. The troops were the poorest in the northern army?mixed white and black?and led by men who, if they possessed any knowledge, bravery, or sense, failed to show it upon that occasion. There was individual on/1 moniT avInhitinnQ nf hltfh ^aiiaiJlijr aim iuuuj va?i?w<v?vmw w ?a? courage, and there was the most desperate and.deadly fighting of the war, but in general there was no glory in the day for the Yankees. Our men huddled in the crater instead of pushing on ttf Cemetery hill, as ordered, and soon an enfilading fire made it as dangerous to go backward as to go forward. It was not until 8 o'clock that the colored troops were sent in. They charged over the heads of the whites crowded in the crater, swept over the crest3 cheering, and spread to the right, capturing 200 prisoners and a flag. A heavy fire of artillery and musketry sent them back to add to the confusion in the crater and the numbers in that horrible mixture of men alive, wounded and dead, and the ghastly debris of the ovnlnainn The Confederates trained their heavy guns upon this red slaughter-pen and dropped shells into the frenzied masses. The Confederates charged repeatedly and poured volleys into the crater. Back and forth over the edge the men fought in desperate dashes. They threw hand grenades over. The Confederates lighted bombshells and rolled them over the parapet into the crater. Several charges of the Confederates were beaten back in bloody repulses by the Federal troops, and from the vast rim of the crater a steady storm of bullets poured upon Mahone's men, and every gun on the southern side was pointed at that place. When all had been retaken but the crater the Confederate batteries ceased firing upon it, and preparations were made for assault. Happily, before the assaulting party could be j formd a white handkerchief made fast to ! a ramrod appeared over the edge of the J crater, and after a brief pause a motley | crowd of prisoners poured over the sides j and lan for their lives to the rear, j The Federals lost about 5,000 in killed ana wounaea anu i,iuu pnsuueis. x?u brigade commanders were captured and twenty-one flags, according to the authority quoted. The Confederate loss was very heavy too, the destructfulness of the fightI ing being shown by the fact that the Sixth | Virginia, with ninety-eight men, lost eighty-eight?one company from Norfolk having every man killed. The sharpshooters had eighty men and lost sixty-four. SOME QUEER RELICS. ! Bullets and other relics are still plenty, j There is a building full of relics picked up j by Mr. Griflin, the owner of the place. Some of them are particularly interesting, j One is made by two bullets meeting in the ! air, striking point to point in exact range. The result is a disk of lead as large as a silver dollar, and about as thick, with the base of the Yankee bullet showing in the centre on one side and the Confederate bullet on the other. Had these bullets passed each other j the fate of the men tiring them would not , be hard to reckon. Another queer relic is a Confederate musket, in the barrel of which two bullets met, splitting the barrel open like a banana peel. There the two bullets can be seen. The Confederate bullet had got about onethird out when it met the prying Yankee bullet on its way in, and then there was trouble at once. Of course the Yankee bullet had no business in there, or at least it should have waited until the other got out, but undoubtedly it was better for the holder of the gun that it went in the barrel than in his eye.' _ toy- The only unadulterated thing in America is the fool who thinks he i3 getting anything pure.?Brooklyn Eagle. '