Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

lewis m. grist, proprietor. | %n Jnkjpknf jfantHg ftriospaptr: Jfor % ^promotion of % ^olhital, Social, ^grkalfaral anb Committal Intmsfs of % SSotrfjr. J terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. ? ? ! VOL. 34. YOEKYILLE. S. C.. WEDNESDAY, JULY 11, 1888. NO. 38. Ibe j?t?*g Heller. ONE TOUCH OF NATURE. BY L. D. LEECH. It was in the early seventies, and I and my two partners were running a cattle ranch located on the Big Medicine river in southwestern Kansas. The recently finished Pacific railroads to the north of us had driven the buffalo pretty well out of the southern country, and the millions of acres of rich grasses which had pastured countless thousands of these animals for untold ages past, now lay open to the herdsof the cattlemen. We were among the first ranchers who entered the new field, but at the time of which I write nearly one hundred cow camps had been established within a radius of fiftv miles of ours. One of the most recent arrivals in the neighborhood was a New Englander named Bailey, a quyet, rather delicate looking fellow of about thirty-five, who, a year before-ray story opens, had come on the range, bought a Couple of hundred head of cattle, and located a ranch on the North Fork, about twenty miles west of our camp. Bailey was a shy, reserved sort of tnan, and although hospitable enough when visited, evinced but little of that wholesouled fraternal sociability which generally characterizes the lordly riders of the range. This made him very unpopular, and with the exception of an old Mexican herdsman, who served him in the capacity of cow-boy, he had few friends and no intimates. We are entirely too ready to believe the worst of any one whom we dislike, and cow-boys are no exception to the rule. So when, one autumn afternoon, big Smith, the boss herder of the circle bar ranch, came thundering up the dug-out, with his pony all afoam, and, calling me outside, told me that Bailey was running off a bunch of steers in which there were a lot of strays belonging to other ranchers, and that the boys had gotten wind of it, and were organizing a pursuing party to catch and hang him for cattle thieving, I did not doubt the accused man's guilt. Ten minutes later I had belted on my revolver, saddled my pony, and was galloping like the wind for the appointed rendezvous, all too ready to take my part in the anticipated "hanging-bee." We were a wild, rough-looking set who o>ot Dvoninnr at. thfi '2-X ranch, and IUWV iilMV V V v> V ?..? ? f started out on poor Bailey's trail. To tell ^ thedruth, we were most of us as wild and rough as we looked. There weto fifteen in the company altogether, for the most part owners.-or part owners, of ranches, and the rest cowboys. We were all well mounted; and each was armed with knife and revolver, while from every saddle horn hung the everpresent lanat, the all-important item, next to his pony, of a cowboy's equipment. Tom Anderson, a strapping Missourian who ran the 2-X brand, and who was the acknowledged master-spirit of the range, fell naturally into the lead upon this occasion, as he did upon all' others where intrepid daring and unyielding firmness were required. Tom was what the cowboys call a "holy terror." He did not know what fear was; but, though relentlessly fierce and cruel when enraged, he had a heart that was tender as a child's in some of its moods. He was a lion in both looks and nature, and we all admired him, and generally suhmltted without question, to his leader^ ship. Our party rode over sixty miles that night, and just as it began to grow light next morning we came up with Bailey. He and his old herder were engaged in cooking breakfast over their camp-fire when we appeared upon the scene, and we did not wait for them to finish their meal before explaining our business. Fierce and haggard from our hard nightride, we were an ugly-looking crew, and it was little wonder that poor Bailey looked scared as he rose and timorously greeted us with a "Good-morning, gentlemen!" as we advanced and drew up around the fire. No one answered his salutation ; it was received with grim, ominous.silence. "Just take care of him, boys, while I ride out to the cattle and see that there is no mistake about the strays. We want to be certain he's guilty, before going any further," said our leader; and as he spoke, he and several others of the party started toward a bunch of cattle that were grazing upon the prairie not far off, while the rest of us kept guard over Bailey, who had nolo oq floo t h and WAS tremb IIU W glVVTU UVMill) TTMW ling in every limb. In a moment Tom and the others returned, and, as they approached, Tom said: "It's true boys. There's a dozen strays in the lot, and no mistake," and turning without more ado to the cowering culprit, he added with a harsh abruptness that wa9 simply terrible: *lYou, Bailey, area cattle-thief, and we have come after you to hang you. You knew the law of the range when you broke it, so you must abide by it. You shall have an hour, and an hour only, to prepare for death." As his doom was thus spoken, Bailey, poor wretch, was completely overcome with terror and dismay. "O boys, boys, don't hang me! You musn't hang me!" he cried piteously, falling suppliantly on his knees. "I swear I am innocent! I call on my Maker to witness that I intended to pay you fc your cattle. Oh, have mercy, and don't hang me !"and he broke completely down, and wept like a child. But it was no use. There was no relenting in the harsh, stern faces of his captors, no softening of their grim determination; and not a syllable of dissent was uttered when our leadertspoke again, and said sternly: "Mercy from us you will not receive. You had best pray for it from your Maker. In an hour's time you will be in his presence." As Tom spoke, the poor wretch gave one despairing look at the unrelenting faces of the men grouped on their ponies about him, and, meeting with not a sign of pity, fell with a hopeless groan, face downward upon the grass. "I reckon we had better leave him by himself for awhile, boys. If he has any prayin' to do, I allow he kin do it better without a aujience ; so let's draw off apiece till his time's up." This most opportune and delicate suggestion came from old Jake Lape, and it was acted upon with alacrity. We immediately moved off for a distance of a hundred yards or so, and left the doomed man olnno m?L-? his; tinn 1 nrfmarations IXJCtU U1V/UV W J J for death. Although we fully intended to hang him, we all felt that it was no more than right to show him all the politeness and courtesy admlssable under the circumstances. Shortly after we rode off, Bailey rose dejectedly to his feet, thrust his hand into his bosom, and drawing forth what looked, from a distance, like a letter, dropped upon his knees and pressed it again and again to his lips with impassioned fervor. Afterward he replaced it in his bosom, and, bowing his head, spent the remainder of his last hour seemingly in silent prayer. When the time had finally expired, and we drew neartne kneelingculprit to finish our dread work, he arose to meet us with an air so gentle and clam, so utterly changed, that it astounded us, for we had expected to meet with tears and supplications and struggles. He offered not the slightest resistance when we bound his hands securely behind him, and, liftinghim upon his horse, drove with him down to the creek bottom, where a shaggy cottonwood had already been selected to serve as a gallows. Bailey was driven under the tree; the LEVI P. MC noose of a lariat was quickly placed about his neck, and the other end thrown across an overhanging limb, and made fast to the trunk. Old Lape had his "quint" raised in readiness to bring it down across the flank of the doomed man's pony at the word of command; all was ready for the final act, when Bailey raised his head and spoke. Calling Tom Anderson to his side, he said: "Tom, will you do a favor for a dying man?" "What is it?" was the gruff reply. "l wane you xo promise iu see mai iuj .family gets what little property I leave. 'They are poor, and will need it badly, Tom; so, please promise. I know you'll do it if you say you will." "Well, Bailey, I'll do it, if that's all you want. You may rest easy on that score; I promise," answered Tom, in softened tone. "Thank you, Tom; and now just one thing more, please," continued the prisoner eagerly, "reach into my bosom and get the picture that's there, and let me have another look at my wife and children before I die. We all of us sat grouped about on our ponies under the cottonwood during the scene, and as Tom Anderson complied with Bailey's request, and taking a picture from the prisoner's bosom held it before him so that he could look at it, the surrounding group of rough cowboys became uttery absorbed in the scene. Not a whisper was uttered, and the noise of the restive ponies, as they champed their bits or stamped impatienly upon the green sward, alohe broke the solemn stillness. With a look of unspeakable tenderness, Bailey glued his e^s'up6n the photograph and held them there for fully a minute. Then his head dropped suddenly upon his breast, and, with a groan, he cried out in despairing accents: "O boys, boys! it's hard to die and leave them all alone; and to die in such a way, too! It will kill my poor Mary, if she's not dead already; I know it will." He no longer looked at the picture, but Tom Anderson himself was gazing at it instead. Long and earnestly he looked at it, but did not speak a word. Then he handed it to old man Lape, and it passed from hand to hand until every man in the party had taken a long look at it. A sweet, gentle woman's face looked smilingly forth from the midst of the card, while over each of her shoulders peered a chubby face filled with childish glee and innocence. On the border of the card was written, in a clear delicate hand: "Come home soon, papa; we're so lonely without you." When the picture had gone the rounds and Tom Anderson returned it reverently to Bailey's bosom, the culprit raised his head and said: "It was for their sake, boys, that I drove the cattle off in such a hurry. I got word yesterday that my wife was dying, and I took the first steers I could find in order to get money to see her. It was wrong, I suppose, but I would have paid you for every head I took when I came back." Like a flash Tom Anderson's knife was out of its sheath. A quick stroke, and the rope about the prisoner's neck was severed. Instantly Bailey's pony bore him aside, and in his place, facing the crowd, on his mustang sat Tom, with uplifted hand and his eyes fairly blazing with fierce excitement, while we were too much amazed dither to speak or move. "That man speaks the truth !" he shouted. "Pie never intended to steal them cattle. But whether he did or not it's all the same to me; the man that lays finger on him must do it over my dead body. Jf I had a wife like that lady in the pictur', an' she was sick, I'd steal every critter on the range to git to her, an' the man's a dog that wouldn't. If there's any man here that thinks different I'm ready to light it out with him right here and now." For a moment there was no response. Then old man Lape spoke up: "Well Tom," said he, "ye needn't talk too mighty fierce, as no one's goin to fight ye, I guess. Not that we're skeered of ye, Tom. You musn't flatter yourself by i thinkin' that at all, but we all feel about ; the same as you do in the matter. Leastj wise I do, and to show Bailey that I be| lieve he's innocent, 1 hereby make him a i present of them three steers o' mine that's I in his bunch." "Bully foryou, eld man! them's my senI timents! and I'll chip in the steers that j belong to me, too!" shouted Bill Smith. "Same here !" yelled Dutch Frank, rubi bing two big tears off his cheeks with his j grimy fist. "I'm with you, boys!" shouted another. "Me too!" said another, and a minute I later every one of the "strays" that had caused all the trouble belonged as much ! ^ ^ DnJlAtT rto i f tb a nlr r\ f /ui/iU /\f t Knm ! IU JJailCjr ?o li nig naua ui gnv.ii wi uivtu bore his brand and no other. The revulsion of feeling was simply tremendous. The very men whoten'min! utes before had been ruthlessly intent upon hanging Bailey, now crowded around ' him, begging forgiveness, and vieing with i one another as to which could do the most i for him. | Such of us that owned none of the j "strays" actually felt mean and jealous of ; those who did, until Tom Anderson suggested a way in which we too, might give vent to our generous impulses. "Boys," said he, "there's none o' my critters in Bailey's bunch, but next spring I'm going to brand twenty calves for that ! little girl in the pictur', and it's my intenj tion to take care of them and their in! crease for her until she grows up." "Now you're shoutin', Tom ; I'll do the ! same, chimed in another; and so each man of us made a liberal contribution. Poor Bailey was entirely overcome, and ; no wonder. To escape hangingso narrowj ly, and five minutes later to have those j who had been bent upon executing him eagerly competing with one another as to which could show him the greatest kindness, was enough to upset any man. He tried to express his feeling coherent )RTO\. ly, but could not; and we left him in the midst of his tears and protestations of : gratitude, and rode off to the nearest ranch to procure food and rest for ourselves and Donies before starting on our homeward journey. Bailey is at present one of the wealthiest and most popular eattle-men in the Southwest. His wife did not die, but recovered, and now resides with him at his ranch on the North Fork. We cow-boys kept our word; and the spring after the lynching affair saw several hundred calves branded with the initials of Bailey's son and daughter turned loose on the range. With his share of them and their progeny the boy stocked a big ranch of his own; while the share of the little girl, who is by the way, one of the loveliest prairie flowers that ever graced the plains, makes her one of the richest heiresses in the State.?[Youth's Companion. marrying'IItranger. It was the Presiding Elder who rode up to the cabin of one of the poor brethren of his conference. The walls were dilapidated, the floor of rough puncheon. The shingles that covere the roof were so curled by the sun that the rain dripped through them whenever there was a down pour. The hearth to the wide, open fireplace, was made of ( , rough, flat stones, but here and there a large crack opened almost wide enough to I take in the foot of the unwary. The poor ! structure was unshaded by trees and no ! flowers bloomed near its unpromising , walls. ' ; "What a place for a human being to call home!" he said to himself as he approachj ed the door, which stood slightly ajar. ' He knocked, and heard from within a I querulous "Come in." He entered, and saw a paje, thin, elderly woman, with I gray hair and sunken eyes, a forlorn, ! wretched-looking creature, in the midst of" | i the most humble surroundings. She rose | to welcome him, and offered him a chair * of rude construction, and dilapidated at | that. There was something so desolate in the old lady's appearance that good Elder j Meigs felt his heart drawn out in pity. I He wanted to offer her some consolation, ' but he did not know how to commence. ' He spoke of the weather as an unfailing I resource; said it was a lovely spring day, ; j and he supposed Brother Howard was j busy in the field. A half-sullen, half inarticulate answer 1 was given. "Well, sister, I hope you have sweet communings with dear Jesus. You do not seem to have.much to turn you aside , from sweet, spiritual converse with this dear friend." Instead of answering, she turned upon him abruptly and asked, "Are you married again, Brother Meigs?" "Yes, sister," he answered, wondering at her abrupt question. "I thought I heard something like it. Did you marry a strange woman?" "Why, uo, sister. I had known and honored her for many years." "Well, I'm glad o' that," she said, with something like interest in her manner. "I tell you, it's an awful thing to marry a stranger. I did that forty years ago, and as nigh as I can calculate, we haint got acquainted yit." "That must be sad indeed, Sister Howard ; I can't quite understand you." Presently the old man appeared, walking with a shamblirg gait. He wa$ thin and poorly clad, though his clothes were well mended and clean. "Good-day, Brother Howard; I hope I see you well this fine spring day," said the Elder, rising to greet the man as he approached. Howard held out an almost lifeless hand, which he allowed warmhearted Brother Meigs to shake, but he / IwJ tnnm ir\ find unu wnrrlc tn lltfpr U1U 1IUK OCUlii IU llim * * ** J " w* V.W vw v? fvv* After a little time, he went to the waterpail that stood un a shelf in the corner, and taking down a gourd dipper, sought for water. "Why, Phrony, there ain't a bit o' water in the pail," he said, in a reproachful tone." "Well, you didn't bring any," was the whining reply. The man took the pail and went off to the spring, some distance from the house, through tall grass still wet with dew. Elder Meigs had drawn his chair near the door, and now sat looking after him. "It's a good bit of a walk to the spring, Sister Howard," said the Elder. "Yes, Brother Meigs, and I've brung hundreds of pailfuls of water from it. But the doctor said I inusn't do that any more, or I'd be bringing it now. 'Pears like Howard never thought on't till the doctor told him that it was my trailing through the wet grass that give me the rheumatiz this spring, and it come nigh j cripplin' me for life." : "That was very thoughtless of your husI band," said the Elder. B "Wall, I suppose it's what one must exTnect when you marry a stranger," she said, i in a spiritless tone. "But forty years ought to be long enough ! to make you acquainted," said the Elder. "Xo, Brother Meigs, I don't think etar! nity would be long enough when you're j nat'rally strangers," she said, looking I keenly into his good natured face. J "But that is dreadful, Sister Howard. How can you live together in the same room, sit at the same table and sleep in the same bed, and still be strangers?" "I can't tell you how it is, but it has always been so, from the day he brought me away from a comfortable home and kind friends and neighbors, and put me into this miserable cabin and told me this was my home." i "And you never planted a tree nor a flower, nor did anything to make it look cheerful and homelike?" said the Elder, in a tone that had in it a sound of reproach. "Yes, I did for a goad many years ; but the cattle browsed down ray little trees, and the hogs rooted up my flowers, and Howard said they was nothin' but weeds, and he didn't care if they was rooted out; so I give it up. He seemed to be kinder jealous of sech things, and said I cared more for them than I did for him. ? ? ?: "jjiu you ever ucgici-i inm iuryuui gulden? Did you let him come in hungry and find nothing ready when you had been tending your flowers, sister ?" "No, Brother Meigs, not unless he had forgotten to git me thiags to cook, or wood to make a fire. Then ? you know, J could not get him his dinner." "Evidently not." l^it as Mr. Howard was approaching, he could not continue his remarks. Mrs. Howard brought a teacup, and offered h?r guest water, and he drank and praised it. "Yes, Brother Meigs," said Mr. Howard, "that water is the beat ih the county. If it hadn't been so good* I should have dug a well at the door." So good Brother Meigs saw that there was one thing that roused the enthusiasm of this strange man. That spring water he admired and loved. jSe-wondeTN&fHffcfrere a was in his heart no ^Irspring of te'ftderness. But time was passing, and he must finish his call and go his way. So he asked to have a word of prayer, and he prayed most fervently that the spirit of love might descend upon this brother and sister and make them one as Christ and the , church are one, and that in their hearts ' living waters might spring up, that they should thirst no more. Then he bade them farewell, and exhorted them to seek [ to live loving Christian lives in the bonds nf unitv V J Good Elder Meigs mounted his horse and rode to the next settlement. The first farm-house that he reached was new and , rude, but there was evidence of thrift and , even taste. He saw that the morning glo- , ries were trained from the ground to the eaves of the porch, and were already be- i ginning to run up the cords. There was a bed for flowers on each side of the path ] running up frOm the gate to the house, and a few perennials were still in bloom, and ] annuals were springing up. "Ah," said the Elder, as he approached the house, "I see that Brother Goodman \ didn't marry a stranger. These ljlies and 1 roses look wonderfully home-like." He ( had never thought of flowers in the light 1 of witnesses before, but now they came to , him with a new revelation. "This man ' loves his wife and she loves him, or | there would never have been a lane of , flowers from the gate to his house. They | are not strangers, but are as one flesh." With a heart relieved of an unaccounta- < ble burthen, he walked briskly up to the ! door and knocked. A cheery little woman met him at the door, with a smiling baby in her arms, and gave him a cheerful welcome. j "And how is the good brother, Sister , Goodman?" "I am looking for him every minute, J Brother Meigs. He had to go to the county seat yesterday, and could not get back j till noon to-day. It seems a long time j since yesterday, he is so seldom away from home; we miss him, don't we, baby?" , "Yes, that is right," said Brother Meigs. "I'm glad you miss him, and I shouldn't j wonder but he misses you." j While he spoke, a step was heard on the gallery outside, and the young wife j with the baby rushed out, and both were 1 clasped in strong, loving arms, and kisses were rained on wife and baby. A minute after, and while the Elder was wiping a little moisture from his eyes, the happy hostess came wick and began to ] apologize for having gsfce out so abruptly, j 1 but the good man said very earnestly, "Never apologize for leaving anybody else ( to greet your husband. I was so glad to ] see that you hadn't married a stranger j that I was ready to weep a little." , Then, as the husband came in with the , baby in his arms, and sat down while the wife finished the preparations for dinner, the Elder told them the story of the poor woman who had married a straneer. "Yes," said Goodman, "I once heard the story of that strange pair. Somebody, beut on match-making, recommended Mr. Howard to the young widow Miller, and relying on the good judgment of her friend, she admitted his addresses and they were soon married. He had been a good worker for others, but when he began for himself he was lost, as you might say, and he was fearfully jealous of the late Mr. Miller, a man who had been very fond of his pretty wife, and had tried to gratify her tastes in many little ways. But Howard was different, and I have heard that he never wanted a tree or flower about his house, and never was willing that she should say a word about his business, and so they have lived the barest, poorest lives imaginable. I have even heard that sometimes they lack the commonest comforts of life." "Isn't that terrible?" asked the young wife. "I often wonder if men realize what it means to leave father and mother and the comforts of home and go away with them, perhaps to a strange land. I don't mean such a man as you, Charley," she added, as she saw a look, of pain pass over his face. "You and I were old friends as well as lovers. That makes all the difference. But Brother Meigs, when you marry people do you ever think how entirely the woman is placed in the hands of the man, and how terrible it is when he turns out to be wanting in principle, perhaps a drunkard? And her whole life is at his command. He is her master." "Yes, Sister Goodman, I often think of it with bitterness, and sometimes I ask God to forgive me for having committed a lamb to a wolf. And I have also sometimes felt my heart sink when I have seen a great, generous-hearted fellow marry a SOIIISU, JUU113U, llJSlg ill lii'ilii l nuumii, vrnu has no thought for others, but only looks ; upon a husband as a slave to work for her : vanity, and thinks him hardly good enough to wipe her old shoes on. I tell you, sister, it is a terrible thing when peo- 1 pie come together wlfhuat true love and appreciation. Let us pray that God will send the spirit of love and unity into every household." And both husband and wife heartily responded "Amen." A GOOD THING FOR THE HOYS. ( Manual training is one of the good things that is good for everybody. It is good for the rich boy, to teach him respect 1 for the dignity of beautiful work ; it is good for the poor boy, to increase his facility for handling tools, if tools prove to be the.thing he must handle for a living af- : terward; it is good for the bookish boys, to draw them away from books; but, most of all, it is good for the non-bookish boy, in showing him there is something he can well do. The boy utterly unable, even if he were studious, to keep up in book-knowledge and percentage with the i brighter boys, becomes discouraged, dull < and moody. Let him go to the work ' room for an hour, and find that he can ! - ' - ? l. ? maKe a UOX or piunu a ruugn piece ui board as well as the brighter scholarnay, very likely better than the brighter neighbor?and you have given him an impulse or self-respect that is untold benefit to him when hegoesback to his studies. He will be a brighter and better boy for finding out something that he can do well. Mind you it is not planing the board does him good; it is planing the board in the presence of other boys, who can no longer look down on him when they see how well he can plane. lie might go home after school and plane a board in the bosom of his family, or go to an evening school to learn to plane, without a quarter part, nay, without any, of the invaluable effect upon his manhood that it will have to plane side by side with those who, in mental attainments, may be his superiors. Ipscclkucous ilrailinti. LEVI P. MORTON. Hon. Levi P. Morton, nominee of the Republican party for the vice-presidency on the ticket with Benjamin Harrison for president of the United States, has longbeen a conspicuous figure in affairs, and it is nn small nraise to sav that he has filled with distinguished ability, every position to which he has been called. He was horn atShoreham, Vermont, May 10,1824, being a son of the late He v. Daniel O. Morton. While his early educational advantages were limited to those of the common schools, his home training and the healthful moral atmosphere in which his youth was passed, particularly fitted him for yearsof future usefulneas and forwinning for himself a successful and commanding position among men. Ilis earliest experience of business was in a country store at Hanover, N. H. After five years he sought a wider field of activity in Boston, where, unaided by money or influence, he worked his way to a membership in the firm of Beebe, Morton & Co., at the'same time that Mr. Morton, successor to George Peabody &Co., London, became connected with the house. In 1854 Mr. Morton came to New York and established the dry goods firm of Morton & Grinnell. In 18GB he gave up trade and entered the banking business. About the same time he established a partnership in London with Sir Johu Rose, former minister of finance in Canada, the house being known as Morton, Rose & Co. The latter were the fiscal agents of the United States from 1S"5 to 1884. The firm of which he was the head were active in the syndicates which negotiated United States bonds, and in the payment of the Geneva award of $15,000,000 ind the Halifax award of $5,000,000. Mr. Morton was appointed Honorary Commissioner to the Paris Exposition in 1878. In 1876 he was nominated for Congress by the Republicans of the eleventh New York district and barely escaped election, having very materially reduced the majority of his Democratic opponent. In 1878 he again received the nomination, and this time was successful by a large majority, and he was re-elected in 1880. His course in Congress was such as to command the admiration of his friends and the respect of those holding opposite political views. He gave strict attention to public business, and faithfully subserved not only the interest of his immediate constituents but the country at large. In the larger Held of public life he was no less progressive and successful than in the admirable administration of his private business affairs. Mr. Morton declined the nomination of Vice President on the Republican ticket in 1880. President Garfield tendered him the positions of secretary of the navy or minister to France. He chose the latter and filled the post with great acceptability from 1881 to 1885. Through his efforts the restrictions upon the importation of American pork into France were removed and American corporations obtained a legal status in the sister Republic. He was the American commissioner to the Paris electrical commission, the representative of this country at the submarine cable convention, and publicly received, in the name of the people of the United States, the Bartholdi Statue of Liberty enlighening the world. After Mr. Conkling's resignation as United States Senator in 1881, Mr. Morton was prominently mentioned by his friends for that position. He was a candidate for the same place in the election of 1887. Mr. Morton has been for many years conspicuously connected with many benevolent movements, notably that of sending, in 1880, a cargo of provisions in the naval ship Constitution for the famine stricken people of Ireland. THE CA^AIGN OF 1840. The famous "hard-cider" campaign of 1840 is still remembered by the older readers of the Times, but they, as well as the greater number of voters who have come enlater, will be interested in the account r\( if Kit Vathon Su rcrfint. hpt.tpr VCU KJl 1 V UJ JL1UWUUIA VW..W. known as "Oliver Oldschhool," in his 'Public men and Events." If one could imagine, writes Sargent, a whole nation declaring a holiday or season of rolicking for i period of six or eight months, and giving themselves up during the whole time to the wildest freaks of fun and frolic, caring nothing for business, singing, dancing and carousing night and day, he might have some faint notion of the extraordinary scenes of 1840. It would be difficult, if not impossible, otherwise to form even a faint idea of the universal excitement, enthusiasm, activity, turmoil and restlessness which pervaded the country during the spring, summer and fall of that memorable year. Log cabins large enough to hold crowds of people were built in many places. Small ones, decorated with 'coon skins, were mounted on wheels and used in processions. The use of the 'coon skins soon led to the adoption of the'coon (raccoon) itself as an emblem and adjunct of the log cabin, and its counterfeit presentiment was hoisted in all the Whig papers. Meetings were everywhere and every lay held in neighborhoods, school houses, villages, towns, counties, cities, States, varying from ten to one hundred thousand ; and wherever there was a gathering there were also speaking and singing. Ladies attended these meetings in great numbers and joined in the singing. Farmers, with big teams and wagons, would leave their fields and travel ten, twenty or thirty miles, accompanied by their families and neighbors, to attend a convention or a barbecue and listen to a distinguished orator. Crowds on the road, multitudes in big wagons, drawn by four, six or eight horses, made the welkin ring with their log cabin songs. Nobody slept, nobody worked, uobody rested; at least so it seemed, for all were on the qui vive and in motion. Tne entire population seemeu to be absorbed in the great duty of electing General Harrison and thus changing the government. All kinds of mottoes and devices were invented and exhibited for sport and effect at these great conventions and barbecues ; live eagles perched upon locomotive log cabins; the 'coon, too, busy and playful; beside the cabin door rested barrels of hard cider, from which the beverage flowed freely to all comers. The string to lift the usual wooden latch hung out, indicating that any one was welcome to walk in and partake of the laboring man's hospitality. There was a gush of good feeling, animation, hope and confidence everywhere pervading the people, which forbade inactivity or despondency. But the West, if possible, surpassed the East in its monster assemblages. At Cincinnati, at Nashville, at Indianapolis, at St. Louis, at the Tippecanoe battle-ground, at Cleveland, at Fort Meigs and at Dayton, the people assembled could only be counted or estimated by the acre. The Dayton assemblage, especially, was such a multitude that "behold, no man could number them." Here were Mr. Clay, Mr. Crittenden, Governor Vance, Governor Cor win and many other celebrities, whose eloquence was called into service. It was estimated that from 75,000 to 100,000 people were there assembled. A marked feature of these assemblages was the great number of women mingling in them?the wives, daughters and mothers of the hardy and well-to-do yeomen Df the country, who took part in the singing. Among the devices displayed in such abundance, the grotesque and comical were not infrequent. Here met the eye a ludicrous representation of a fight between the coon and the fox (the emblem af Van Buren) in which the coon was always uppermost and giving the fox a terrible thrashing. Again might be seen a set-to between Harrison and Van Buren ; "Old Hickory," the trainer and second of fi the latter, showing evident concern that C his "little pet" was weak, dispirited and si getting worsted, while Harrison, backed c and cheered by thousands of people cry- fi ! ing, "Hurrah for Old Tip!" stood self- t poised and confident, "rejoicing as a strong n . man to run a race." These representa- ii tions were infinitely varied, sometimes ir- c resistibly provocative of roars of merri1 ment, all of which served to keep up the e fun, hilarity and general good feeling. ii With the election in November?which t resulted in Harrison's election by 234 elec- v toral votes of the 294 cast, and a Whig ma- a jorityinthe House of Representatives of t the United States?the national carnival ii ceased, and the people returned once more a to their regular daily avocations with e cheerful hearts and hopeful feelings. n For what has caused this great commotion, a motion, motion, C Our country through ? ii ii> is h uitu h roiling oil p For Tippecanoe and Tyler, too, .1 For Tippecanoe and Tyler, too. , The original or special friends of General Ci Harrison very naturally claimed that it was his popularity which produced such an unprecedented "corpnaotion" t4our>country ? through.1' But in tnisfKey were mistaken. -v The popularity of no one man could have ^ produced such a universal outpouring of ij the people from day to clay for weeks and Q months unceasingly, abandoning every- n thing else and giving time and money unstintedly to carry the election. General Harrison was but the figurehead?the representative of the Whig party for the time a being. Few had ever heard of him. The a people knew from history and the campaign papers that he had been a general in the then late war with England; that he ^ had won a victory at the battle of Tippe- " canoe over the British and Indians, and ^ 'also at the battle of the Thames, in Cana- ^ da, where Tecumseh, the noted Indian jj warrior, was killed. This was enough to g( make a hero of him by those who had a purpose to serve by doing so. As to his ^ fitness for the Presidency, the people knew nothing and cared nothing.--[Philadelphia Times. r _ >1 two kindTo?courage. ? General Horace Porter contributes an ? article to the June Century on "The Phi- p losophy of Courage," from which we quote 5* as follows: ^ "Indifference to danger is not always the y form of courage which should entitle its " possessor to the highest credit. It is a negative virtue as compared with the qual- ? ity which enables one to perform a dan- g gerous duty while realizing the full pleasure of the peril encountered. ? "These two traits are best illustrated by the old story of the two soldiers -whose regiment was charging up a hill in a des- ^ Eerate attempt to capture a battery. When j alf-way up, one of them turned to the p other and said,4 Why, you are as pale as a p sheet; you look like a ghost; I believe v you are?afraid.' 'Yes, I am,' was the an- tj swer; 'and if you were half as much ^ afraid as I am you'd have run long ago.' j It is something higher than physical cour- c age, it is a species of moral courage, which p recognizes the danger and yet overmas- ? ters the sense of fear. When the famous v mine in front of Petersburg had been com- g pleted, and the National troops drawn up ? ready to charge the enemy's works as soon 0 as the mine had done its work in creating v a breach, the signal was given just before a daylight, the fuse was lighted, and the ^ command stood waiting with intense anx- j iety for the explosion which was to follow, p But seconds, then minutes, then tens of j minutes passed, and .stiU no sound from _ the mine. The suspense became painful, p and the gloom of disappointment over- ? spread the anxious faces of officers and a men. v The fuse had been spliced about mid- jj way. It was now thought that there was c a defect in the splice, and that it was at j( this point that the fuse was hanging fire. ^ The day was breaking, the enemy was w becoming alert at sight of our unmasked ,, columns ; there was not a moment to be p lost. Lieutenant Doughty and Sergeant ^ Reese, of the ,48th Pennsylvania infantry, j( now volunteered to examine the fuse. They entered the long dark gallery which ^ led to the mine, and without stopping to v calculate the chances of life, calmly exposed themselves to one of the most horrible forms of death. With no excite- ^ ment to lend them its intoxication, with p nothing to divert their minds from the *j fate which seemed to await them, they a followed the course of the fuse through cj the long subterranean passage, found the j defect at which the spark had been ar- C( rested, and made a new splice. On their t] return the match was again applied, and j. the train was now prompt to do its dead- e lv wnrlf. Thpsn men disnlaved a hicher c. order of courage than tWe who after- q terwards charged into the breach." ^ SOURCES OF MISCHIEF IN EATING. ? The great sources of mischief from a eating are three?quantity, frequency, ra- D pidity, and from these come the horrible ? dyspepsias which make of human life a a burden. By eating fast the stomach, like t] a bottle filled through a funnel, is full and ^ overflowing before we know it. But the a most important reason is, the food is swal- ^ lowed before time has been allowed to di- +, vide it in sufficiently small pieces with D the teeth ; for like ice in a turn bier of water, j; the smaller the bits are the sooner are they n" dissolved. It has been seen with the 0 naked eye that if solid food is cut up in 3 pieces small as half a pea, it digests almost 0 as soon, without being chewed at all, as if S( it had been well masticated. The best c; plan, therefore, is for all persons to thus comminute their food; for even if it is well chewed comminution is 110 injury, ft while it is of great importance in cases of C( hurry, forgetfulness or bad teeth. Cheerful r( conversation prevents rapid eating. It re- jj quires about five hours for acommon meal n to dissolve and pass out of the stomach, during which time this organ is incessant- t] ly at work, when it must have repose, as e any other muscle or set of muscles, after ^ such a length of effort. Hence persons j, should not eat within less than a five v hours' interval. The heart itself is at y rest more than one-third of its time. The n brain perishes without repose. i Never force food on the stomach. All _ are tired when night comes. Every mus- u' cle of the body is weary and looks to the ? bed, but just as wo lie down to rest every other part of the body, if we by a hearty ^ meal give the stomach five hours' work, n which in it's weak state requires a much e longer time to perform than at an earlier hour of the day, it is like imposing upon a servant a full day's labor justat the close of tl a hard day's work. Hence the unwisdom of eating heartily late in the day or even- ^ ing; and no wonder it has cost many a man his life. Always breakfast before work or exercise. No laborers or active u persons should eat an atom later than sun- fc down, and then it should not be over half q the midday meal. Persons of sedantary ^ habits or who are at all ailjpg should take e absolutely nothing for supper beyond a -s single piece of cold stale bread and butter, j? or a ship biscuit, wun asingiecupoi warm ]8 drink. Such a supper will always give t( better sleep, and prepare for a heartier n breakfast, with the advantage of having ^ the exercise of the whole day to grind it up and extract its nutriment. Never eat y without an inclination.?[The Housewife. jr How Calico Got Its Name.?The derivation of the word "calico" is very inter- rj esting as of such an ancient date is its origin. Mrs. Leon Owens says in her "Travels in India," that in the year 1498, just ten months and two days after leaving the rr port of Lisbon, Vasco da Gama landed on tl the coast of Malabar at Calicut, or more ti properly Kale Rhoda, "City of the Black ai Goddess." Calicut was at that period not si only a very ancient seaport, but an exten- w sive territory, which, stretching along the tc western coast of Southern India, reached le rom Bombay and the adjacent islands to !ape Comorin. It was at an early period o famous for its weaving and dyeing of otton cloth that its name became identied with the manufactured fabric, whence he name calico. It is now generally adoitted that this ingenious art originated n India in remote ages, and from that ountry found its way to Egypt. It was not until the middle of the sevnteehth century that calico printingwas ntroduced into Europe. A knowledge of he art was acquired by some of the serants of the Dutch East India company, nd carried to Holland, whence it was inroduced in London in the year 1676. It 3 surprising for grown up children, as well s our young folks, to learn that "Pliny, as arly as the first century, mentions in his atural history that there existed in Egypt wonderful method of dyeing white loth." Calico cannot be despised when t boasts of such antiquity. The shoddy iake-up of the present day may look own with contemptupon the calicodress, ut what kind of lineage has it ? the cali0 can proudly ask. Chesterfield Fairly Outdone.? '?xas judges dy> not administer the laws 1 a spirit of cruelty, but give the con emned their sympathies and good advice, 'he Castroville Anvil prints the seutence f Judge Paschall to a colored hoodlum amed Anderson, aged 20, for shooting at barber. The judge is reported to have lid: "You have no trade, I suppose, a trade t which you can go to work and make n honest living. I am now going to point ut to you an opportunity by which you 'ill be able to better your condition. It i this: When you get to the penitentiary ou must select a trade?the shoemaker's, tie carpenter's, or some such pursuit. >ut do your duty and you will have nothlg to fear. Several months will be knockI off the time for which you are to attend lose services and you will be presented 'ith a new suit of clothes that will make . ou look handsome and stylish. You will Iso be given money enough to pay your 'ay back home to this county or any other ) which you may want to go. You will et back in picnic season, just in time to at a swell with the girls. Everything ortends for you a bright and useful career, low go back to jail with the sheriff and 'ait until arrangements can be made for our departure; I assure you it will not e long." "Yes, sah, yes, sah, Jedge. I'se much bliged to you gentlemens for taking such reat interest in my future comfortment." He then walked away light-hearted and oiling, only seeming to regret that he adn't got a chance to go tong before. Brigham Young's Ready Wit.?It is elieved that the following anecdote of Irigham Young has never before been ublished. The high priest of the Morions often had to exert the whole of his wonderfully quick wit in order to preserve he faith that his followers had in him, ut he was generally equal to the occasion. l certain elder, while chopping wood, had ut his leg so badly that it had to be amutated. As soon as he was able he came o Young and stated his case to him somewhat as follows: "I have always been a ood Mormon; I have several wives and good many children, and in ray present ondition I do not know how I am to proide for them. I believe truly that you re Christ's representative on earth, and hat you have all the power that he had. f you like you can work miracles; if you ike you can give rue a new leg, and now ask you to do it." Young assented to all the flattering ^positions as they were laid down, and /hen the elder had finished speaking he aid: "I can give you a new leg, and I /ill, but I want you to think about it a ittle at first. When the day of judgment omes, wherever you are buried, your old 3g will find you out and join itself to you, ut if I give you a new one, that will rise /ith you, too, and the question is whether ou would rather suffer the inconvenience f getting along with one for a few years ere, or go through all eternity with three ?gs." The choice was quickly made, and Brig am Young's reputation as a miracle/orker was saved. A Famous March.?Looking through istory, we find that though in all other articulars the art of war has made wonerful strides, yet in the actual distances ccomplished in marches on foot the anients were fully equal to modern soldiers, n fact, the most wonderful feat ever reorded in marching was accomplished by he ancients. In the second Punic war lannibal waited at Canusium forhisbrothr Hasdrubal to bring him reinforcements ;om Spain. Facing Hannibal was a Rolan army under the Consul Claudius [ero, while opposite Hasdrubal was anther Roman army under the Consul jiyius. Leaving the main body to hold nd deceive Hannibal, Claudius, with a icked body of 1,000 horses and 6,000 foot, larched quickly and secretly to Livius,' nd, joining forces with him, they hurled hemselves on Hasdrubal and defeated im. Claudius then at once marched back gain before Hannibal was aware of his rother's defeat. Now, the distance betveen Canusium and Serra Gallica, the lace of the battle, by the best authorities, 5 given at the least measurement at 225 liles. The march was made in six days, r at the rate of over thirty-seven miles a a > iltLi *v\^maL ?r? <\ m Avnnnf! Ana i a>y JDUt HUD IliaiUU ID till CAV;cpuuuai ne, and, if believed, must stand out like ) many other of the wonders of the anients. Love and Honor.?"All is honorable in love" is a maxim entitled to more Dnsideration for its age than for its cor3ctness. It is not true that all things are onorable in love. Here are two young len, for instance, of good standing, and tanding equally well in the estimation of tie community. Before all other things ^ ach desires the hand of this girl; they o not believe merely, but they both now?at least they think so?that life nil be one continuous gloom without her. Vhat a temptation to resort to every leans to win her favor. One of them elieves that by falsely disparaging his ival he can achieve success. But how ase to resort to calumny even though it /ould secure to him what he esteems the reatest of human prizes. Many a young lan in such a dilemma has acted on the lost generous and chivalric sentiments, ven exaggerating the virtues of his cometitor in love and beauty rather than to au any risk of doing him injustice. The *ue way to win in love is to make your wn merits greatest in reality, rather than y sounding your own praises too loudly. Flowers of Norway.?The roofs of lany of the houses are covered with turf >r warmth, and you see upon them freuently quite a garden of flowers which ave sprung up. Sometimes there are ven small trees. Many of the flowers in rorwav remind one, as indeed the whole indscape frequently does, of New Engind. You see the dandelion, the butjrcup, the gentian and various other faliliar dowers in the fields. In their winows, both in town and country, the Nor'egians have a wealth of flowers that sets ou wondering how they can raise them 1 such beauty and profusion. I presume le absence of furnaces and gas has much ) do with their success as horticultusts.?[Colonel George Bfiss in New York imes. Whom Life has Disciplined.?The liddle ages, who have lived through leir strongest emotions, but are yet in the me when memory is still half passionate ad not merely contemplative, should irely be a sort of natural priesthood, hom life has disciplined and consecrated ) be the refuge ana rescue of early stumsand victims of self despair.